Page 124 of Reverb
There was a pause. “That’s still a pretty touristy place, even for a Wednesday in October.”
“I know.” Because she had a plan, too.
“All right,” he said. “I can be there in about forty-five, if the trains cooperate.”
“So I’ll see you in an hour or so?”
His laugh warmed her heart and did nothing to stop the cascade of tears from rolling down her cheeks. They didn’t feel bad this time, even if she hated them on principle.
“Yeah,” he said. “See you soon, Mish.”
“Soon,” she repeated. Because sayingI fucking love you, you assholeseemed over the top.
She stared at the phone after setting it down on the coffee table, brushed the tears from her cheek, then stood and headed to her bedroom to get ready.
When Mish got to the bar, David was standing against the wall next to the door, trying to stay out of the way of the people passing on the sidewalks. He let out a breath that smoked into the cold day when his dark eyes met hers. Nervousness and tension were carved into the hard set of his shoulders and the rigid way he stood.
She’d done the same, blowing out a breath when she spied him. That combination of a gut punch and the absolute knowledge of coming home ran hard through her.
She’d missed him. More than she wanted to admit and in every way that told her this was worth fighting for—if he wanted to. He had to listen and work for their survival as well. They’d walk this path together or not at all: that was her bottom line.
She chose to step close enough that a shove or jostle from anyone passing might push them together. David met her gaze, tipping his head up a fraction.
“Come here often?” His voice was soft and broken. Full of all the things she’d wished he’d have said months ago.
“Hardly ever. But I met a guy I liked here once.” Her throat stung, as did her eyes, though she could blame that on the cold. Maybe.
“Funny, I met a woman I liked here once. But I fucked it up horribly.” He gave a little shrug. “Now I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, you did say something about buying me a beer. Let’s start there?” She paused. “You okay with being seen with me in public?”
David crinkled his brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because all the rumors will start again,” she said. “And this time I’ll have to address them, one way or another.”
More breath clouded the air. “Well, we’re in public now. Might as well be in public where it’s warmer and there’s beer.” His smile was slight, but it was the first she’d seen from him in months, and it took all her strength not to wrap her arms around him, and—hold on. Be each other’s anchors in the rocky sea that was life.
But they also needed to be on the same page. She opened the door to the bar and gestured him in. That smile smoothed out when they found a booth toward the back. He peered up at the chalkboards with the list of draft beers, and that profile was everything. Hard angles, soft eyes. The well-kept beard and that smooth, golden skin.
Mish tore her gaze away to focus on the list of beers, too. “Got any recommendations?”
A little lift to his shoulder. “Depends on what you like. Lagers? Ales? Hops? Wheat? They’ve also got Belgians listed, though some of them are high-test.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m driving.” She didn’t even own a car, though she could afford one, even with the insurance.
“You are so in the driver’s seat right now,” David said.
She gave up on the board and stared at him. He’d turned, too, and the same tension as earlier was back. “I know.” All the decisions were hers to make. “But I need a good navigator. So you pick the beer.”
He closed his eyes, briefly, and she couldn’t read his expression at all. Pain? Hope? When their gazes met again, he nodded.
“I’d also like fries slathered in gravy.” This sort of thing required comfort food.
For a moment, David’s eyes danced. “I can do all that.” The server chose that moment to come over, and David ordered the fries, plus two glasses of some Belgian tripel that was on tap.
When the server left, David folded his hands on top of the table. “I’m a complete and utter fuckup,” he said. “You deserved a hell of a lot better than I gave you. I’m sorry.”
Mish let her breath out slowly. There was truth there, and she appreciated that. But also a lie. “Not acompletefuckup. You’re here, aren’t you?”
