I keep my back to him. Pull my arm over my chest. "Cleaning isn't my thing."
"It looks good. Lived in."
"Lived in, maybe. But not good."
He laughs. "Not good." His fingers brush the back of my hand. "You're shaking."
"Yeah."
"Because of me?"
"Yeah." I suck coffee though the straw. "I, uh, can I get you anything?"
"You could turn around."
I shake my head. "I'm not sure about that."
"No?"
"What if I know it's over from the look on your face? I can't deal with that."
He laughs. "You sound sleep-deprived."
"I am."
"I'll promise to smile."
"You could tell me."
"I will. But I need you to look at me first."
I shake my head.
His fingers curl around my wrist. "I can come around."
"I can turn."
"I can run faster."
"Don't be so sure. I've been working out."
"Running?"
"No. But, I, uh… tell me. Please." I suck more iced coffee from my straw.
His voice gets soft. "I will." He tugs on my wrist gently. "After you look at me."
Slowly, I turn to face him.
He really is a sight for sore eyes. His dark hair is hanging in loose waves. His brow is soft. His dark eyes are full of joy.
This is good news. It has to be.
His sets his coffee on my counter then brings his hands to mine. Slowly, he unfurls my fingers, and sets my cup on the counter.
"That's especially cruel." I try to make my words teasing, but they don't land. It is cruel, taking away my one comfort. My one distraction. Staring at me with all that affection in his dark eyes if this is…
I swallow hard. I can't think that. Not yet.