Page 51 of Tangled Up

“Manic bipolar disorder. She loses track of time.” Carly exhales a soft noise. “I recommended her children be put in protective custody.”

“And were they?”

She nods, studying her plate.

“Good work. Sounds like you’re one of the good guys.”

“Maybe.” A note of sadness is in her tone.

“It sounds to me like you saved those children’s lives. Are you sorry they were taken away?”

“No, of course not. It was the right thing.” Her eyes blink up to mine. “I’m sorry the mother is now branded a villain. She loves her children. When she’s medicated, she’s a very good mother. She really needs support, but she’s all alone in the world.”

Leaning back, I trace my glance down the side of her cheek, to her pretty eyes and pouty lips. She’s the same girl who used to defend stray animals when they’d go in people’s yards, or raccoons digging in trash cans. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

The warmth in my tone softens her. She tilts her head to the side. “I’m not always so sure I’m right anymore.”

“I think that comes with age. You’re only right all the time when you’re seventeen.”

“For me it was sixteen.” Her nose wrinkles, and I remember sixteen.

It was the summer I kissed her for the very first time. Her lips were so full and soft, and she tasted like the salty pretzels we’d been eating. That kiss changed everything.

I wonder if her surety had anything to do with us and if I can make her that sure again.

Her tongue slips out to touch her lip, and she smiles at me shyly. “You seemed pretty sure of yourself at seventeen.”

“I know I was then.” It’s a bittersweet confession. “It lasted until I was twenty-two.”

It was the year I broke her heart.

“I was nineteen,” she says softly.

We finish the meal in relative silence. The background music is nostalgic memories of strangers in the night or doing things “my way.” All the words I need to say are heavy on my mind when the waitress finally reappears.

“Save room for dessert? Our tiramisu was featured inFlorida Monthly.” She smiles, but her smile slowly melts when she sees our somber faces. “I’ll just take this when you’re ready.”

I take out my card and settle up the bill.

We’re back in my Rover, headed to her aunt’s house when she looks over at me. “Are you happy in Tampa?”

“Not really. I mean, I have some really great friends, but…”

I have to leave it there because it’s too soon to say I miss her. I’ve reached the point in my life where I have everything except the one thing I want most—someone to share it with.

“You’re clearly doing well.” She slides her hand down the armrest of her seat. “This is a nice ride.”

“It’s probably overkill.” I’m almost embarrassed by my luxury SUV. Carly’s never had anything, and I’m sure she’s not making bank as a public servant. “I thought I might go places where I needed all-wheel drive.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

Music plays softly on the radio, and my eyes drift across the console to her smooth legs lit intermittently by the streetlights passing overhead. I want to reach over and slide my hand between her thighs, then slide it higher…

The thought makes my dick twitch, and I push back on the fantasy.

I have to take it slow. The last time I fucked her, she said it was over. Now she’s riding in my car, letting me buy her dinner, take her home. It’s more than I could have expected after how we left it.

---