Compass (Second Chances 1)

I look down at the two slices of pepperoni pizza. It’s a small offering, but I take it with a shaky hand. “Thank you, Katie.”

She settles onto the sofa next to me, balancing a plate with one slice on her thighs. “The coffee is brewing. One cup and you’ll go home, right?”

I want to stay. I want to fucking stay and put my head in her lap while she reads poetry to me and then I want to make love to her.

“One cup and I’ll take off,” I answer with a smile.

“Eat.” She points at the plate in my hand. “I heated yours in the microwave. I know how much you hate cold pizza.”

I hate that this moment has to end.

I take a bite of the lukewarm pizza. I chew, not giving a shit that it tastes horrible.

I’m inside the apartment of the woman I love, sharing a meal with her.

This is more than I could have dreamed of.

This is everything.

It’s the best night of my life in more than five years.

***

“I had too much to drink.” Katie presses her index fingers into her temples. “I’m going to have a massive headache tomorrow morning.”

She’s sobering up, slowly.

She had one cup of coffee and half of another. I got her the refill adding a splash of cream to it.

The cool rush of evening air flooding the room through the open window is helping clear her head.

I know I should say goodnight, but I’m not ready to leave.

There are a million things I want to say to her, but now is not the time.

“Why don’t you live in London?”

“London?” The surprise in my tone is evident. The question feels like it blindly came at me from left field.

“Your daughter lives in London.” She crosses her legs. “Why don’t you live there?”

I’m not welcome there. I was arrested during my only trip to London. I attempted to see my daughter. The police were called. Dylan’s associate there secured my release with the caveat that I would board a plane back to the United States.

“It’s a complicated situation,” I say with a shake of my head. “I’ve hired an attorney here. He’s working with a lawyer there. I’m hoping they can get me more time with Kristin.”

It’s not a direct answer, but it’s enough to appease her for now.

Her head bobs up and down. “You miss her, don’t you?”

“Every moment of every day.”

“I hope you get to see her soon,” she offers on a sigh.

“Me too.”

Sipping from the coffee cup, she watches me intently.

Once the mug is back on the table, her fingers drift to her bottom lip. “I did come to Tin Anchor tonight to talk about that kiss.”