Page 39 of Second Swing
She thinks she’s hiding behind her carefully crafted walls when instead she’s giving me every single one of her emotions as if they’re playing on a movie screen. I want so badly to pull her into my arms and promise her things I’m not even sure if I have the right to promise. Two months wasn’t enough time to convince Paloma. Not when she already made it clear about what she did and didn’t believe in. Love wasn’t on the list of beliefs.
So instead of pulling her into my chest where she was minutes ago, I stay where I am. Close enough to feel her warmth but far enough she won’t bolt. “You hungry?”
Her eyes pop open, and she gives me a crooked smile, tilting her head in my direction. “Starving.”
I return the smile, even if it hurts, and bump her foot with my own. “Come on. I’ll make you some waffles.”
She stretches her full figure beneath the sheets, and I watch her in this stolen moment. If she wants every single one of my mornings for the next two months, I will give them to her. Even if they never feel like enough.
When she stands, the sheets are tucked beneath her arms, the sunshining, casting a soft morning glow on her skin. Somehow she looks even more beautiful when the sun lets her be the main character of my life. Everything is so much less picturesque without her being the one to catch the light.God, I love you.My breath catches at the thought, my mouth parting at my need to say something I know I can’t. So I say nothing at all.
I hear Paloma grumble as she makes her way to the bathroom, the sheet wrapped around her body like armor she doesn’t know how to take off. When the door shuts behind her I can’t stop the thoughts ofwhat if. What if I ask her to come with me? What if I choose to cancel the contract? Choose to stay here with her.
Maybe if she believed in things that were more than temporary.
Maybe if I was a better man.Maybe.
I run my hands over my face, huffing a breath that sounds more like a defeated laugh than anything else.
I love her, but it doesn’t matter.
If all she will accept from me are waffles, they’ll be the best damn waffles she’ll ever have.
21
Chuck:And there they are again, exactly where we expected.
Lou:Consistency is key, isn’t it?
Chuck:Not when it’s consistently disastrous.
Lou:Eh, even disasters have their own charm.
My heartbeat matches the rhythm of my feet pounding against the paved running trail. I may not be the fastest runner, but being fast isn’t my goal anyway—consistency is. Every morning I make an attempt to run three miles. It helps clear my head and makes me feel good. I don’t believe in needing to force myself to move my body. I’m not doing this for weight loss. I enjoy it. I love how the destination gives me one thing to focus on, the push and pull as my toes move me into my next step.
It's an easy goal, the next step.
Which is exactly what my heart tells me to do with Clint.Take the next step.But the argument between my parents flutters through my mind as I slow to a stop in front of Sweet Bean. My mom and I planned to have breakfast this week before Sweet Bean opens. The fact that I’m up at the ass crack of dawn proves just how much I love her.
I brace my palms on my thighs as I take a deep inhale through my nose and release the last remnants of frustration when I exhale.Catching my breath, I use my key to unlock the door before pocketing it and turning the deadbolt in place so her regulars don’t try to sneak in. She doesn’t have the heart to turn anyone away.
Bringing my hand up to the side of my mouth, I yell, “Mami?”
She yells back from our table in the corner, “Mija, agarra los cafecitos en el mesa y vente para acá.”Honey, grab the coffees at the counter and come here.
“Dios mío, Mami, me asustaste.”Oh my God, Mom, you scared me.Grasping my chest, I shake my head and take a breath. She must have been over there setting up the table because it has guava and cheese pastries and toasty buttered Cuban bread. I’m sure there’s fruit over there too, but she knows my love for the carby little bastards. I grab both coffees and bring them over before setting them down on each side of the table, then lean over to kiss my mom on the cheek. Meddlesome or not, she’s my everything and always goes out of her way to take care of me. Even when I’m insufferable.
“I’m sorry, mija. No quise asustarte.”I didn't mean to scare you. “Did you run all the way here?”
I nod my head, not allowing the sweet liquid to cool as I take a greedy sip—warming my body from the cool morning.
“How’s the boy you were on a run with the other day, hm?” Mami’s voice is heavy with disapproval. I hold back my chuckle at seeing her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed to barely-there slits. I can already tell she’s claimed Clinton as her future son-in-law, and she doesn't even know the nitty-gritty of our past. Either way, it doesn't matter. She’s made her pick.
“Maaaa,” I drag out before I finally look up to her. Her mouth is in a firm, straight line along with the all-knowing glare I’ve only ever seen moms pull off. One day, I will be giving my child the same look and,genuinely, I’m excited for the day. “Theboy, has a name. Danny’s just a friend. I needed to ask him something, and I knew he’d be one hundred percent honest with me.”
“You could have asked me.” She shrugs, as if she has all the answers.
“Yeah? How could I have asked you if I sabotage all my relationships, hm?”
