“Morning, Bella,” James greets me easily the next morning when I come in from my run.
I pushed myself today, the emotional hangover of yesterday leaving me restless when it should have left me drained. Even now, after ten miles that felt like two, I can’t stop the pounding in my mind, the tremble in my hands. I have a session with Dr. Carlisle before lunch and it can’t come soon enough.
James pours me a mug of coffee and fixes it just the way I like—two sugars, no milk—before placing it down in front of me. He’s rocking a black tank top that show off his biceps and grey sweats.
I try not to check him out too hard but…I’m only human. There aren’t many dads who look like James Ryan and if his bod could be the new dad bod standard, well…
“How was your run?” he asks, leaning over the island while I pick up the coffee mug and take a sip.
The strong taste centers me and diffuses some of the emotional overload I suffer from following any anniversary dates. “Not bad.”
“Liar.”
I snort. “Thanks for listening last night.” I meet his eyes, letting him read how much his sincerity meant to me. James stayed up late while I sobbed and shared all about sweet Miles.
I don’t know if it’s because he understands the heart-wrenching depth of a loss like mine but confiding in James was a hell of a lot easier than talking to my parents, or Colton, or Selina. The words flowed from my mouth, torrents of rambling I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. And I didn’t want to. Not last night when I almost wished Jerry would call me just so I could remember Miles with someone who loves him as deeply as I do.
But Jerry didn’t call. James stepped up to the plate, pulled me into his arms, and listened for more hours than he needed to.
What’s more is I wanted him to. I needed the time, attention, and concern, from someone who would truly understand. I needed him. Last night shifted something between us and I smile, because I don’t want to go back. I like having James Ryan in my corner; I like having a man in my life that I can count on. Confide in.
He studies me for a beat, his expression soft. “I’ll listen anytime, Bella. I mean that. I’m always here for you, okay?”
I nod, taking another gulp of coffee. The strange thing is, I believe him. Of course I can call up Colton or Selina and they’d listen. But not the way James tuned in to my feelings, to the anguish that twists my soul, to the deep ache that lives inside of me and never truly vanishes.
“I will too,” I murmur back, giving him a serious look.
He smiles and reaches out, his big hand covering my cheek. It’s comforting, the steady weight of him, the knowing that someone will keep me tethered to reality when I feel like I’m drowning in the past. “I know.”
I turn into his touch, pressing a kiss against his palm, and the kitchen shrinks. The space presses in on me, along with a lack of oxygen. James feels it too because a desperation sweeps his eyes, turning them black.
My mouth parts as his thumb brushes over my cheekbone, his fingers wrapping around my neck. His eyes drop to my lips, lingering for a beat too long, a beat I want to lose myself in.
I don’t want professional anymore. I don’t want friendly and neutral and platonic. I want James Ryan. All of him. The messy, the complicated, the solemn. Since living under his roof, my flicker of attraction has fanned into a flame of desire. One that is curious, excited, and hopeful.
Suddenly, I want nothing more than for James to close the space between us and kiss me. I want him to taste my lips with the same intensity that he listened to my hurts. I want him to drag his mouth along the curve of my jaw and I want to slide my hands under his shirt and press my palm against his heart.
“Daddy!” Milly shrieks, bolting down the stairs.
James pulls away immediately and my spine snaps ramrod straight. Even though we weren’t doing anything wrong, I feel my cheeks burn and drop my head to sip my coffee.
Milly scurries into the kitchen, talking a million miles a minute about a squirrel she saw outside her bedroom window. James grins at her and picks her up in a hug. He plops her down on the kitchen island and pours her a smoothie.
“Drink this and wake your brother up. I’m taking you to school today.”
“You are?” Milly and I ask at the same time.
“I am,” he repeats, kissing Milly on the forehead before helping her back to the floor. She runs back in the direction she came, bellowing for her brother.
“You don’t have to—” I start but James cuts me off.
“Take a shower. Get dressed. After I drop off the kids, let’s go get breakfast.”
My eyebrows nearly fly off my face. Did he just read my thoughts?
James laughs at my reaction. “C’mon, let’s mix things up today.”
I bite my bottom lip, studying his expression. Am I reading too much into this? My heart races as I grip the handle of my mug. “Don’t you have practice?”
He smiles at me, the little notch in his chin flaring. “Not until this afternoon. I already got a workout in in the basement. You had a shit day followed by a rough night, don’t deny it.”
I shrug, not bothering to refute him since I know he’ll see through me. It’s the worst club to belong to—the grieving family member—but once you’re in it, you see a lot more than club outsiders could possibly notice.
“Let me take you to breakfast. I never got to properly apologize for acting like a dick at the hospital.”
“You were worried about Mason.”
“True, but I never should have taken it out on you,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, Bella.”
I look up, my mouth falling open for an entirely different reason. The fact that James can acknowledge when he’s wrong and apologize for it blows my mind. Years of marriage to Jerry taught me not to expect much in terms of making past wrongs right. But—“Thank you, James.”
“So, breakfast?” he asks hopefully, lifting an eyebrow.
“I’d love that,” I say, smiling back. We hold each other’s gaze for a moment, the shadows shifting into something hopeful, ringed in promise.
“Good.”
Milly and Mason stumble down the stairs.
“A herd of elephants,” James mutters under his breath, pouring Mason a smoothie. “Go on.” He tips his head toward the stairs. “Go take some time for yourself.”
“Have a great day at school, guys,” I tell the twins as I pass them.
Mason frowns and Milly reaches for my arm. I stop and smile down at them but both of their expressions are wary.
“Are you sick?” Milly asks.
“What?” I laugh, shaking my head. “No, silly. Why?”
Mason’s frown eases but Milly still watches me intently.
“Why aren’t you taking us today?” she asks.
“Because I wanted to do the honors,” James slips in smoothly, redirecting their attention. “And I begged and pleaded with Bella to let me be on carpool duty today. You know what?”
“What?” Mason asks.
“She made me arm wrestle her for it!”
Milly smacks a hand over her mouth, stifling her laugh.
Mason glances at me. “Dad won?”
I grin at their playfulness. “No way, dude. I won.” I flex an arm. “Can’t you tell? Your daddy can’t beat this!” I make another pose and the twins burst into giggles.
James snickers, winking at me.
“Since your dad is such a sore sport I told him he could take you anyway.” I pause at the doorway and turn back to point at them. “But only today, you hear?”
They both nod and climb up onto the barstools, peppering their father with questions.
I turn back to the stairs and make my way toward my bedroom. I step into the shower, the hot water easing some of the tension I carry in my shoulders and neck.
This isn’t a date, right?
No, of course not. It’s just two people with a shared loss connecting.
Friends who flirt grabbing a midweek bite. It’s casual.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t spend extra time blowing out my hair. Or adding a swipe of lipstick and mascara when I’m usually makeup free. And I did try on two, ahem, three different shirts before settling on a white, long-sleeve shirt, with a deep V-neck. I pair it with tight, ripped black skinny jeans and sexy, over-the-knee, black boots.
Studying myself in the mirror, I admit I’m balancing that casual/dressy vibe pretty spectacularly. I laugh, my gaze flicking up to my face. My eyes don’t look as haunted as they usually do. I almost look…excited.
When James reenters the house after dropping the twins at school, I’m already waiting in the living room. His eyes widen and the corners of his mouth tip up in appreciation.
“You clean up well, Andrews.” His tone is teasing but his expression heats and I revel in the compliment.
I lift my chin at him, taking in his ripped jeans and a light gray Henley under his open coat. I swear, dads didn’t dress like this when I was younger. If they did, I would have totally been into older men. “You do too, Ryan.”
James holds out his hand and I hesitate for an instant before taking it. He grips my hand lightly, swinging our arms as he helps me into my coat and leads me out of the house. When he turns to lock up, he drops my hand and I curl it into a ball.
Is he just being friendly? Or is this more than that? Did we already cross the line between friends and something more? Or are we hovering at the edge, about to cross over?
It’s been so long since I’ve done this, I don’t know what signs I’m supposed to look for. Am I reading this right?
“You okay?” James asks me, appearing totally normal while I’m kind of freaking out inside.
“Yep.” I smile too brightly.
James gives me a look before unlocking the doors on his SUV. We slip inside the car and he eases it out of the driveway.
“How do you feel about Meg’s Diner?” he asks.
“Oh, I love their waffles.” I settle back against the seat, some of my nerves dissipating now that I know we’re headed to the casual, corner diner I frequent.
“Yeah, so does Mase.” James glances at me. “I want you to know that it’s okay to take time for yourself. Now that we’re past the initial transition, we’ll work something out so you have more time off.”
“Ah.” I wave a hand, a flare of panic blazing in my chest. I don’t want time off. Time alone means thoughts and what-ifs and more reflection on my failures. Time off means more sessions with Dr. Carlisle.
“I couldn’t have survived the past two months without you.”
“You would have figured it out, James.”
“It wouldn’t have been nearly as painless as you’ve made everything.”
“It’s fine. It’s my job.”
“No.” He shakes his head, taking a left turn. “You go above and beyond your job. Don’t think I don’t notice.”
“Is that why you’re taking me for waffles?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood and get a read on him as he pulls into the parking lot.
“Nope,” he says again, parking. He turns to face me fully, his eyes serious. “I’m taking you for waffles because I’ve done a shit job looking after you.”
“It’s not your job to look after me,” I murmur, my voice almost a whisper.
James holds my gaze. I feel the crackle of electricity between us, more intense now than it was in the house. He reaches out slowly, his hand wrapping around my wrist. “What if I want to? I know I said friends but…I think of you a hell of a lot more than I should.”
“Wh-what?” I stutter, my heart rate suddenly jumping into my eardrums. Did I hear him correctly?
James wooshes out a heavy exhale. “I like being with you, Bella. You make me laugh even when I don’t feel like it. I thought having you nanny for my kids would be awkward after everything that went down between us.”
I flush, closing my eyes for a beat as I recall sneaking out of that hotel room.
“Look at me, please.” He squeezes my wrist.
I force my eyes open and my breath freezes in my throat as I get a good look at his expression. Warm brown eyes, mouth pressed in a line. James is serious, straightforward. He doesn’t play bullshit mind games or say one thing and do another. What you see is what you get and suddenly, I’m so grateful for that, I could cry.
“I think of you when I’m not with you. I trust you with my children. I feel better knowing that you’re looking after them. But last night…fuck, Bella. Seeing you sad wrecked me and I realized, who the hell is looking after you?”
“You’re not supposed to take that on,” I remind him.
“But I can’t not worry about you. After Mason got sick”—he winces, recalling the awful stretch of days where time seemed to stop and we scurried around each other like strangers—“I know I was an idiot. But the whole time I was putting space between us, I was thinking about you. What you were doing. How you were feeling. I don’t know how to do this, Bella.” He glances at where he’s holding my wrist. “I don’t know how to be with a woman anymore. Not after so many years and not after so much…loss.”
“I don’t know how to do this either,” I admit.
“But do you want to?” he asks, his eyes flipping back to mine. Melted chocolate and hot cocoa and heat.
I swipe my tongue over my dry lips and James zeroes in on the movement. Slowly, I nod. “I left that night because I got scared.”
He frowns. “Scared?”
“Yeah.” I let out a small laugh. “I was way out of my league with you. I was embarrassed too, knowing you’d wake up in the morning and regret it. Wish I was…someone else. I’m damaged goods.”
“I could never regret being with you. You’re perfect,” he refutes, a flare of anger in his eyes. “Don’t say that about yourself, Bella. The ones with the damaged hearts are the ones that life happened to. You’d be hell-bent to meet someone worth connecting with nowadays who wasn’t a little bit tarnished by life’s heartaches.”
“I know.”
“So you really weren’t just ghosting me because of the sex?” he asks.
My mouth drops open. “Is that what you think?” I snort, shaking my head. “Jesus, James. In one night, you flipped my world upside down. I had no idea sex could be that…intense. And then, with a stranger no less. You really thought I left because—”
“It wasn’t good,” he finishes my thought.
I groan, pushing my head back into the headrest. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Neither is you beating yourself up so badly,” he replies, reaching over to place a hand on my leg.
I glance down, liking the weight of his hand on my thigh. “So this…” I glance out the window toward Meg’s Diner.
“This is me wanting you to know that I’m here for you. That I’m thinking about you. As more than friends but always friends first. That I’m willing to do whatever you want and if you don’t want to do anything, that’s fine too. But I’ll still be looking out, Bella. I can’t not worry about you.”
I smile slowly, feeling his words warm places that have been frozen for too long. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he agrees, flipping off the ignition. “Waffles?”
“Yes, please,” I say, exiting the SUV.
We walk toward Meg’s and James holds the door open for me.
We’re seated at a corner booth and when the server comes by, we order Belgian waffles and strong coffee.
It’s the best non-date I’ve ever been on and my favorite Tuesday of all time.