“Whoever you do this with, Kristin, won’t care for you as much as I do,” he said. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes. I just feel . . . not ready,” I said. “Please, understand.”
He put his finger on my lips and then kissed me. “I do understand,” he said. “But I wish I didn’t.”
That made me smile. He lowered his head to my breasts and closed his eyes. I ran my fingers through his hair and closed my eyes, too. We nearly fell asleep as we were, but I realized how long we had been in the attic, and I rushed to get dressed as he moved quickly to restore everything to the way it was. We went down to my room. I put the diary under my pillow again.
“What about tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. Let me see what my father has planned.”
He went into my bathroom and threw cold water on his face. I followed and fixed my hair, and then we went down and sat in the living room, watching television until my father arrived less than twenty minutes later. He looked like he’d had a good time. I pushed aside that little nugget of jealousy quickly.
“Hey, you guys,” he said. “How’d she do on the leftovers, Kane?”
“Leftovers? I thought it was all new,” he kidded.
My father smiled. “This is one clever young man. He knows what to say to glide over thin ice,” he told me.
“How was your dinner?” I asked.
“Very nice. Laura found a new restaurant. Quite homey, run by an Italian family. They call it Diana’s, the family’s last name. How was your Thanksgiving dinner, Kane?”
“Bountiful,” Kane said.
“Well. I’m sure it was good,” my father said, laughing. “I’m going up. I have some errands to run tomorrow.”
“On Sunday?” I asked.
“I’ve got to visit this property just outside of Richmond. There are things about its landscaping that the Johnsons want me to see. I figured you’d be catching up on your homework, so I asked Laura to come along,” he said. “We’ll have breakfast before I go,” he quickly added.
I glanced at Kane. His face was lit with expectation and happiness. My father would be gone most of the day. We could be back in the attic.
“Okay,” I said. “Yes, I did leave everything for tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Masterwood. I’ll make sure she gets it done and has a good lunch.”
“You’ll make sure she gets it done? Now, why does that sound like a contradiction?” my father joked.
Kane laughed, and I forced a smile. Be still, my jealous heart, I told myself. Remember what Aunt Barbara told you, asked you to do. Your father has needs, too.
“I’d better get going, too,” Kane said, standing. “Good night, Mr. Masterwood.”
“?’Night,” Dad said.
I walked Kane to the door. As soon as my father was out of earshot, Kane seized my hand and said, “Isn’t this great? Maybe we can finish the diary tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Call me the moment he leaves.”
“Why do I think you might be hiding outside just to see when he leaves?”
“Very funny.” He thought a moment. “Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”
“It is a bad idea. If he sees you just waiting . . . that early, too . . .”
“Okay, okay. Good night,” he said, and kissed me softly, his lips lingering on mine. “Until tomorrow.”