She opened her eyes, and I saw her pupils were dilated. “It’s spicy but has hints of sweetness.” She laid the glass down as a little sigh escaped. “I’ve never been much of a drinker, but that wine tasted…”
“Exquisite?”
She nodded.
Just like you.
“What do you want to know about me?”
“Anything. Everything. I just want to hear your voice. I want to know everything there is to know about you, Grace.”
She grinned, a look of humiliation enveloping her face. I didn’t stop myself as I reached across the table and took her hand in mine, brushing my thumb over her pulse that pounded swiftly under the soft skin of her wrist. But I let go of it and didn’t linger.
“There’s not much to tell. I’m pretty much as plain as they come.”
I shook my head gently, my fingers wrapped loosely over the wineglass, running the digits up the smooth stem. It was idle work, something to keep me occupied, for if not, I’d have her in my lap and be kissing her til we were both on the point of losing it.
“There’s nothing plain about you, Grace.” She lifted her hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, the small pearls she wore catching the light and gleaming faintly.
“My mother and father are divorced. He resides in Florida with his new wife currently. They just had a baby last year.” She looked up at me, this vulnerability in her expression. It was if she had never talked about herself to anyone else, had never borne herself. “I’ve never seen the baby in person. It’s kind of odd to think about seeing them when his new wife isn’t much older than I am.”
I didn’t like that she appeared upset talking about this, and I was ready to tell her we didn’t have to talk about it longer, but she took a deep breath in and I knew she wanted to say more.
“So, it’s just been my mother and me for the past couple years.” She was staring at her wineglass, the candle catching it and creating light prisms along the table.
I could see she was flustered in what she’d said, her thoughts elsewhere. I didn’t like that. I wanted her here, in the present with me.
There was so much I wanted her to tell me, so much I wanted to know about Grace. I wanted to know what her favorite meal was, her favorite smell. I wanted to know if she liked sunsets or sunrises better. I wanted to know what she thought about before she went asleep, what was the first thing that came to her thoughts when she woke up.
I wanted to know everything, but I didn’t want to lead her to a sad place, and it was evident that the divorce of her parents, the fact her father had moved on with someone similar to her age and had another child, affected her terribly.
So as much as I didn’t want to tell her about my background so soon, wanted to work up to it, talking about myself may bring her back around to where she wasn’t drowning in her fears.
The waitress brought out the antipasto, but my appetite had taken a nosedive.
“My parents died when I was young, and I ended up moving in with my uncle.” She looked up at me then, and I realized quickly that her thoughts weren’t on the problems in her life anymore. She appeared concerned for me, sorrowful even. “My uncle was a hard man, cold and reclusive. He was a self- created multimillionaire and was so concerned with his fortune that he kept people at a distant. He had no emotions, didn’t form personal connections or relationships with anyone.”
“God, I’m so sorry.”
I offered her a tight smile and regretted that the atmosphere had gone sad, but I wanted her to know every part of my life.
“The only reason he took me in was because he didn’t have an heir, and the thought of losing everything once he died had the selfish part of him rising up.” I picked up my glass and took another long sip, thinking about the past, about how everything had played out in my life.
“He didn’t care for me. In fact, when I moved in with him, that was the first time I had ever met him. He and my father had never been close and had actually been estranged since before I was even born.”
I thought about how anytime my uncle had been brought up in conversation, my father would clam up, get upset. It was unusual that his name was uttered in our family, but every time it had been, my father grew closed off, hateful even.
“What a lonely life to lead.”
I didn’t know if she was talking about my uncle, my father, or, hell, myself. But she was right regardless. “To this day, I don’t know what caused them to hate each other so much.”
Grace was the one to reach out and grasp my hand in hers, and electricity and pleasure surged through me. “It’s probably better that way. You don’t have to carry that burden.”
In that second, she wiped everything away, the terrible memories of being alone after my parents gone, and the melancholy that sought to crawl up and claim me. She was the light, and I was desperate for it, having lived my entire life with shadows surrounding me. I really wanted to grip on to her and not let go.
“I really am sorry, Seth,” she murmured softly.
I didn’t stop myself from leaning across the table, gripping the side of her face, and kissing her. She tasted of wine, sweet and strong, addictive and mine. I forced myself to sit back, but all I wanted to do was keep kissing her, to have our lips mashed together until we were breathless, until the control was entirely shattered in two.
