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"What is your plan?" I asked, watching as his brows furrowed slightly. "For your future. You can't enforce forever."
"It'd be nice to get my own thing going. Be in charge. Maybe try to go legit. Or partially legit at least. Get me a good woman. Have her give me a litter of kids. All boys," he added, smiling.
"You don't really get to decide that," I said with a smile. "You like kids?"
"Like what me and my old man had. Would like to have that myself."
"It must have been nice to be so close," I observed, not even bothering to keep the longing out of my voice.
"You'll get the chance to have it too, babe. Have yourself a half a dozen kids, have the kind of relationship with them that you never got to have. It's not the same, but it would be good for you to have those blood bonds, I think. To get to know some loyalty."
"And love," I added, voice a bit raw.
"If there's one thing I can pretty much guarantee you are going to have in life, babe, it's love. You're going to be loved. More than you even knew was possible."
He made it sound so possible.
Likely, even.
And I wanted so badly to believe it.
But I wasn't quite there yet.
"I mean, I've been loved," I rushed to say, guilt taking over me. "Helga has loved me like her own."
Though, maybe, it wasn't quite the same.
She didn't have the time to sit and play with me, to take me to the parks, to paint my nails, or shop with me for my prom dress. She was so often busy with my father's tasks that she could only be a bit more like an aunt, someone you knew loved you, but often from a bit of a distance.
"I meant a different kind of love," Charlie said, making that shiver move through my belly once again.
"I know," I agreed, piling his empty plate on top of mine to avoid eye-contact right that moment.
"You doubt it?" he asked, dipping his head lower so I had no choice but to meet this eyes.
"I haven't given it much thought."
Really, I hadn't given it any thought.
Not until he started looking my way anyway.
"That cop-to-be would love you in a heartbeat if you'd let him," he informed me, being perhaps a bit too observant for my taste. What else had he noticed with those keen eyes of his?
"That's just a crush," I brushed it off.
"That man looked like he wanted to yank my teeth out with rusty pliers when he saw me walk up. That's not a crush. And I can't say I blame him."
"You barely know me," I objected, shaking my head, trying to deny the impact his words were having, words of kindness, things I was so unused to that my knee-jerk reaction was to find fault in them.
"I know more than you think. I know enough to say there is something special about you. Maybe not everyone sees it. But Collings sees it. I see it. Someday, another man will see it too."
That last part sounded pained.
But, no.
That made no sense.
Purely wishful thinking, I was sure.
I heard what I wanted to hear.
Needy.
When the hell did I become so needy?
"Hon," Vicky's voice broke in. "I am going to pour his food on his lap if he makes me take it back to get it fixed one more time," she declared, dropping it down on our table before moving off. Likely to go chain-smoke out back like she was prone to do when she was stressed.
She wasn't meant for the service industry.
I half-expected her to quit between the dinner rush and closing most days of the week.
"I have to get back," I told Charlie, maybe hearing a hint of disappointment in my voice.
"Get me a coffee to go to hold me over until you get off tonight," he told me. "Then I will square up."
I nodded, taking the plates, dumping them into a washing tub, then giving orders to Ed to redo the steak for table four because it wasn't well done enough. Ed had a moral objection to cooking a steak over medium, but after having had to redo it twice, he grumbled and set to charring it.
I got Charlie his coffee, black like I knew he drank it, and brought over his bill.
"You forgot to add yours," he told me, pushing the check presenter back to me.
"No. I am pay..."
"No, you're not. Put it on my bill," he demanded, voice steel.
"No," I countered, lifting my chin defiantly.
"I'm not your father or brother," he surprised me by saying, easily picking up on my attitude. "I'm not bossing you around. But I was raised a certain way, and that means that when I share a meal with a woman, I pay for it. So let me pay for it," he tried again, voice a little softer.
