Chapter Eighteen
Sean was already seated at a table when Kristin arrived at the restaurant nearly fifteen minutes late. He walked up front to meet her as she came in, a warm smile on his face.
“I thought you’d bailed on me.”
“I almost did.”
He put his hand on her lower back and escorted her to the table. “Glad you didn’t.” He held out her chair for her before taking his seat next to her. A waiter came to their table and handed her a single yellow daffodil.
“Sean asked us to bring this out when you arrived. Please take your time with the menu. I’ll be back in a moment to take your order.”
She turned to Sean. His eyes were shining so bright she had to look away.
She looked at the flower, then at him. “Why?”
“Renewal.”
Her mother’s early teachings floated back, reminding her that today—the spring equinox, Ostara—was seen as a prime time to get back things once lost. Is that what he had in mind? She dipped her nose into the cup of the flower and inhaled its spring-time fragrance. No flower better represented renewal than the daffodil, so he got that right. She wondered whether he had called his friend Ian’s mother, who was something of a witch, for advice.
“Are you hoping we’ll experience a renewal?”
He smiled. “I thought we agreed not to talk about us?”
She shook her head and grabbed the menu. She felt his eyes on her, but refused to look up and risk losing all control. First a smile, then she’d be romping in the backseat of her car with him.
“Do you know what you’d like to try?” she asked.
He held his arms wide, his hands toward her. “I’m completely at your mercy.”
“That’s a risky place to be.”
“I trust you, darlin’. Completely.”
Their flirty sparring and the bees buzzing in her stomach told her that she was the one in a risky place, not him.
Thankfully, the waiter showed up then. She ordered items that she liked and that she thought Sean might like. When the food arrived, he stared at the plate with a look that said he wasn’t sure he could take a bite out of the colorful and artfully arranged raw chunks. To his credit, he smiled.
“How do we…do…this?”
She picked up the long slender envelope at her plate and opened it, taking out the wooden chopsticks. He did the same. She placed the chopsticks, one then the other, in her hand, demonstrating how to hold them. She reached into the plate of food, picked up a piece of yellowtail, dipped it in the wasabi, and placed it on her plate. He tried to follow her lead, but the sticks wouldn’t cooperate.
“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do,” he admitted good naturedly as one stick clattered to his plate for the third time.
Chuckling, she got up and moved to stand behind him, placing the chopsticks in his hands. Standing this close to him, touching him and not kissing him, was the hardest thing she’d ever done. He smelled so good. His skin was so warm. When he turned his head toward her and stared at her lips, her knees went weak.
“Pay attention,” she teased. “There are no forks here, so if you want to eat, you gotta learn the sticks.”
“If you can use a fork to eat ice cream, surely I can use my fingers to eat this?”
“Sure you can…you and the two-year-old over there in the booth.”
Sean turned in time to see rice and bits of food spill from the toddler’s mouth onto her T-shirt. His hearty laugh warmed her pink parts.
Mr. Overachiever soon got the hang of the sticks and was able to pick up the food from the serving dish, move it to his plate, then back to the service dish without dropping it all over the table and into his lap.
“All this work has made me hungry. When do we get to eat?”
She explained what everything was.
“Which one do you like best?” he asked.
“The yellowtail.”
He inspected the plate again. “I don’t see any with tails.”
She pointed to the piece on her plate.
“Okay.” He picked up one like it from the serving plate, dipped it in a little wasabi like she’d showed him, and brought it to his mouth, pausing. “If you have to rush me to hospital, tell them I’m allergic to penicillin and oxycodone.”
She laughed and watched him intently as he put the whole piece in his mouth. Chewed tentatively, then with more enthusiasm. Swallowed.
“Well?” she asked, surprised at how eager she was for him to like it—to like something she liked.
“I like it. I didn’t expect to, but I do. What else?”
He tried the eel and squid next, which he liked. The tuna, not so much. The vegetable rolls and the fried tofu pouches were also winners, as was the tempura shrimp and California rolls she’d ordered in case he couldn’t stomach raw.
She was impressed at how eagerly he tried everything and did so with gusto. That was his way, she realized. Everything with gusto. It was one of the many things that had made her fall in love with him. A warm rush tingled across her skin at the knowledge.
After they finished everything on the platter, he suggested they order some sake or another pot of tea. She could tell he wanted to stay awhile, to talk, to subtly remind her how well they fit together. But she knew it was a mistake to get any closer to him, so she refused, saying she had a lot of work to do the following day. They split the bill—at her insistence.
“Don’t laugh, but I like sushi more than green chile cheeseburgers,” he said as he walked her to her car.
She blinked her eyes and opened her mouth in shock. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
They laughed.
“This was fun. Aren’t you glad you didn’t bail?”
“Yeah, I am.” And she meant it. “I haven’t had good sushi in a long time.”
“So it was just the sushi you enjoyed? Not the company?” His voice was low and she felt it drum in her heart.
“It wasn’t just the sushi.”
“Maybe we can do it again sometime.” His gaze caught hers and held, making her feel like she was standing on the crumbling edge of a deep abyss. A dervish of emotion spiraled in her heart, warning her to break the connection before she fell in.
“It’s late. I should go.” She turned, hand on her car door, but he caught her hand.
“It’s not even nine. Let’s go get some ice cream. Chocolate…” he tempted.
“Thank you, but no.” She tugged her hand, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Coffee?”
“No.” She pulled her hand away.
“Kristin,” he said. “Don’t go.”
She felt herself getting lost in his eyes and his voice again, captured by the feelings his one touch set loose in her, and she couldn’t force herself to break free.
His hand moved to her face, caressing her cheek. “Stay with me. Just a little longer. I miss you.”
Because she didn’t move away, because she didn’t resist and tell him no, he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.
In that instant, the renewal he’d talked about burst into being inside her. Senses and feelings bloomed. Desire flooded her cells.
It felt so good with him, so right. But it was wrong. Without trust, it would always be wrong.
She shivered and pushed out of his arms, folding hers in front of her like a shield. “I can’t do this, Sean. I don’t have the courage to let you in again.”
He took her hand and put it on his chest where his heart lived.
“Do you feel that? It started beating again the moment I saw you in the store today and you spoke to me. I’ve felt dead inside since we’ve been apart.”
A spark of anger forced her to jerk her hand away. “When you threw me out of your life, you not only broke my heart, you broke all of me. I can’t give you what you want. I’m not whole.”
“Neither one of us is whole because we’re apart from each other. I love you, Kristin, and I know you love me. Take me back, and we’ll both begin to heal.”
Shaking her head, she moved away from him. “I don’t want to love you anymore. It hurts too much.”
He stopped her. “You don’t mean that.”
She closed her eyes. “Yes, I do.”
“Look, maybe we moved too fast the first time. But we can start over. Take it slow. Give you time to learn to trust me again.”
Her skin tingled when he slid his hand up her arm, and she noticed a slight jolt to her heart as if it were trying to beat again. She backed away from him, from his talented hands, his pleading eyes, and his enticing voice.
“Your heart may be beating again, Sean,” she pulled open her door, “but mine’s still scarred and bleeding. Fast or slow, it won’t survive another round with you.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it.”
She shook her head knowing that it was all she would be able to think about now. “No promises.” She got in and closed the door. It broke her heart to see him in the rearview mirror, standing where she’d left him, watching her drive away.
****
The following night, as she climbed into bed, she received a text from Sean. “Thanks for not bailing on dinner last night. I enjoyed it.”
She didn’t respond, and he didn’t follow up.
The night after that, she received another text. “Sweet dreams.”
Another night, another text. “Craving wasabi and that yellowfin thing. Have to make a run to the grocery store.”
She chuckled, and her fingers ached to text back, “It’s yellowtail, and DO NOT GO TO THE GROCERY STORE!” but she resisted. Then she sent it anyway. And couldn’t go to sleep, a ball of anxiety tumbling in her stomach, until he texted back, “Whew! I resisted. Thanks, darlin’.”
The following night was a quote: “Feeling fear doesn’t always mean you should stop doing something. Push on. The best surprises are often waiting for you just on the other side.”
“Another old Irish saying?” she texted.
“Something my da always said. Night, darlin’.”
He texted her every night for a nearly a week. But at the end of that week, there was no text.
She tossed and turned all night, contemplating what this meant. The thought gnawing on her brain when she rose with the sun the following morning was that she had been wrong to see him again. She would not make that mistake again. Would not listen to his pleas or his promises again. She would truly get on with her life without him.
After an hour of mind-clearing, Qi balancing, yoga, she showered, ate breakfast, dressed, and prepared her backpack for a long day of research at the library. The drama this semester had put her behind, and she had precious little time left to complete the first draft of her master’s thesis. She slung the pack over her shoulder and opened the door.
There on the welcome mat was a single daffodil, its stem wrapped in a wet paper towel and foil, and a DVD that had “Play Me” written on it in Sean’s bold script.
She took the flower and DVD into her bedroom, sat on the bed, loaded the DVD into her laptop, and hesitantly hit play.
Sean sat on his bed in a T-shirt and sweats, looking into the camera.
“Hey, darlin’.” He grinned and scratched his hand through squirrely golden locks, which stood on end. “Since I haven’t had any luck getting you back using my charm and good looks, I thought I’d try something else—” He leaned over and picked up a guitar and held it in position to play, putting his hands in place. “—like making a complete arse of myself.”
He plays the guitar? Kristin thought. I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that? In her musings, she realized she’d missed something he said, so she rewound it.
“This song is called To Make You Feel My Love. The song pretty much says what’s in my heart. So…” He took a breath and released it. “…here goes.”
His fingers strummed the strings, and soft, soulful chords strummed inside her. He began to sing the words of his heart, sweet lyrics in a raspy, edgy voice. She listened to the song intently, as if the words themselves held the key to getting her life back.
The sincere expression on his face and in his voice brought tears to her eyes. She let them fall and wash away the anger for and mistrust of this man she loved.
His final words ended on a slight crack in his voice as he gently plucked the strings of the guitar, playing the final soulful notes. Then he opened his eyes and stared directly into the camera, into her eyes.
“Kristin, I messed up, darlin’…bad, and I hurt you. Give me a chance to make it up to you. I’ll make you happy. I promise.” He put down the guitar and picked up his phone.
The ice block enclosing her heart melted at his words, at his sincerity, at the amount of love that came through the screen from him to her. She felt the broken pieces of her heart fusing together.
Sean got up from the bed and turned off the camera. Her screen went black. She reached out to start it over, to watch it again, but then his face filled the screen again.
“Oh, in case you’ve deleted my number, it’s…” He left his number and the screen again went black.
Kristin had never deleted his number. She scrolled through her list, found his entry, and was ready to hit the button that would connect her to him when his face again filled the screen. She chuckled and stopped to see what he was up to.
“Sorry to interrupt you from deciding whether to call me, but I forgot that there was something I wanted to show you.” He walked backward and pulled off his T-shirt as he spoke, giving her a grand view of his chiseled chest and stomach. “Something that might help you decide.”
He untied his sweats.
Her heart beat faster in her chest as his sweats dropped to the floor and he pointed to the only stitch of clothing he had on—boxers, the green ones with big red lips across Kiss The Legend.
“The ones I was wearing the night we met. The ones that made you fall in love with me. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them.”
Kristin smiled and ran a finger over the image. “I remember.”
“If you come back to me, I’ll wear them every day for you. I’ll let you wear them if you want. Or I’ll buy you a pair in your size and we’ll spend all day and night wearing nothing but our matching boxers.”
He stood there grinning at her, looking a bit like an overgrown leprechaun. Cute, full of mischief, and just barely hiding his pot of gold.
“One last thing I want to show you.” His eyes grew heavy and he tucked his thumbs into the waistband of those boxers, tugging them lower.
Her breath caught in her throat when she saw a shadow of his dark thatch and what looked like the start of one fine erection that could be hers.
As he moved the boxers lower, he moved closer to the camera, hiding the image she craved. He held the boxers up to the camera before tossing them over his shoulder.
“You don’t get to see unless you call me.” The joking mask fell away, revealing a serious face on her screen. “I love you, darlin’.”
He held up his phone and the image again faded to black. This time he did not come back to deliver another message meant to entice her. But then, maybe he knew it wouldn’t be needed.