“You read my mind,” Cyrus said. “But I didn’t want it to sound like a line. You might get up and walk away and I don’t want you to get up and walk away.”
“You’re in luck,” I said, my cheeks warming. “I don’t want to get up and walk away either.”
It’s literally the last thing I want to do.
His answering smile was gorgeous, not only because he was a handsome man, but because of how personal it seemed. Intimate. As if he saved that kind of smile for private moments, warm mornings spent wrapped in bedsheets…
Oh my God, you really do need to get out more.
“I’d like to buy you a coffee,” Cyrus said. “But you already have a coffee. So how about dinner? Is that too fast?”
“Oh, um…”
“It’s too fast. Never mind.”
“No, I’d love to have dinner with you,” I said quickly, cringing at the naked eagerness in my voice. “But I have to check in with my daughter.”
“Oh yeah? How old?”
“Aria is fifteen,” I said and waited for the spark of interest in his eyes to fade. But he smiled wider.
“No kidding? My son Garrett is fourteen.” Cyrus shifted in his seat. “I should check with him too, actually. Since when do the kids give the permission?”
“In my case, it’s a side-effect of divorce.”
“Same here. How long?”
“Two years ago. You?”
“A year.” Cyrus held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. “You can still see the tan line where the ring used to be.”
I nodded. “I find myself touching my finger all the time, as if I were careless and lost mine somewhere. Then I remember and…” I shook my head with a small shrug. “But it was for the best.”
“I’m sorry,” Cyrus said, then thought for a moment. “But I’m also not sorry. Maybe it makes me a selfish ass, but I’m pretty damn glad you’re not with someone else. It’ll make our dinner so much less awkward.”
I laughed out loud. “True. And I’m not sorry, either. About my divorce, I mean. It was hard but necessary. Giles, my ex, is a good man and a great father to our daughter. But I always felt like I was missing something. Always looking over my shoulder for who was walking through the door next. And that was so incredibly unfair to him.” I glanced up, realizing how much I’d said. But Cyrus was listening. Nodding.
“I feel the same,” he said. “I’ll always love Kaylah—she’s the mother of my kid. But I never felt…”
“Complete?”
“Yes. I never felt that way they say you’re supposed to feel.”
“Like how they do in the stories,” I finished and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “And I’m glad you still have love for her. I think that says a lot about you.”
He smiled ruefully. “Thanks, that’s nice to hear. I’ve been feeling like a grade-A asshole. Like I failed at life.”
“Me too,” I said and suddenly felt shy. “We have a lot in common.”
“We do,” Cyrus said. “Poetry and failure.”
I laughed again. “You know, I’ve laughed more in a handful of minutes with you than I have in years. Thank you for that.”
“It’s not by accident. I’m trying my best.” He grinned. “I like your smile too much.”
A soft moment fell, and I felt myself getting lost in Cyrus’s eyes. The depth of them that was enticingly new and somehow ancient too.
“Well I guess we should exchange codes,” he said.