And how weird it was for him to leave and come back.
“What was LA like?” I ask.
“Big,” he says simply. “Loud. Busy all the time.”
“Did you like it?”
He thought for a second. “I liked parts of it.”
“What parts?” I ask.
“The ocean being close,” he says. “Late night with friends. The feeling that anything could happen.”
I rest my chin on my hand. “What about the parts you didn’t like?” I ask.
“Feeling alone all the time. Even though the city is big, that doesn’t mean that there is always someone around.”
I looked at him and smiled.
“What about you?” he asks. “Big dreams when you were younger?”
I laugh softly. “I always felt at home here, I knew this was where I would stay, I didn’t know what that would mean though. I thought I would stay in home design, but I wasn’t as passionate about it as opening up a coffee shop.”
A comfortable silence settles between us. Eventually, we moved to the couch.
We talk about old relationships. Careful at first, then more honestly.
“You know about my ex,” I say. “What about your past relationships?”
“There was someone in LA,” he admits.
“Was it serious?”
“Yeah, it was,” he adds, keeping eye contact, his hand on my thigh, like a small gesture of him telling me that I matter now, not who was in his past.
“What happened?” I ask.
He shrugs. “She wasn’t ready for the same things I was.”
“Oh wow, that must have hurt,” I say
“It did, it was hard to hear,” he says, rubbing his thumb in circles on my thigh.
The honesty in his voice made my chest ache slightly.
Sitting close together, just being together. It reminds me of Bill and Sarah, who come into the café every morning. I alwaysthought it would be nice to have something like that. And it’s here, in my living room.
“Violet,” he says, quietly.
Something about the way he says my name makes me feel like I’m melting. The space between us suddenly feels very small.
Then he pulls me gently onto his lap. My knees landed on the couch on either side of him. My hands rest against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
His hands move slowly up my back. Fingers brushing lightly against my skin before sliding into my hair.
My heart pounds as I look down at him.
And suddenly, a very dangerous thought crosses my mind. I think about his hands while he’d been cooking earlier. Big. Strong.
