“You still travel with a light?”
“Old habits are hard to break.”I smirked.That’s why years ago he’d nicknamed meNightlightsince I always had a light source to keep the darkness at bay.Under the weak and yellowing glow, I pulled out theTina Rescue Kit—truffles, face mask, the pettyHis LossT-shirt—and finally, two small bottles of wine and a tin of shortbread.
He stared.“That’s...impressive.”
“I’m a nurse.We believe in preventive measures.”I twisted one of the mini bottles open and took a sip.It was sweet, metallic, and barely passed as a wine.I winced.“Wow.That tastes like regret in liquid form.”
“Let me help.”
Leaping out of the cargo area, he opened the cabin and returned with a bottle of water and our disposable coffee cups.With a swish, he swirled and tossed the contents onto the side of the road.A quick rinse with fresh water, and he reached into one of the labeled crates near the back and popped the seal on a bottle of something far more respectable.
“You deserve better than airplane chardonnay.”He poured a little into the coffee cup before handing it over.“Now, keep in mind, it should be in a nice, perfectly formed glass, but circumstances being what they are...”He held onto the cup as my fingers wrapped around it, lingering a breath longer than was necessary, as if it somehow felt needed.“Thisis wine.”
The scent hit first of dark berries, smoke, and something warm and peppery.When I sipped, it was smoother than I expected, like velvet versus burlap.
“Okay,” I said, half-smiling.“You win.”
“Always nice to hear that from you,” he murmured.
I pretended not to hear the low note in his voice as I studied the stars instead.The sky was ridiculously clear; the Milky Way stretched like spilled sugar across the black.
The wine went down easy, and before I knew it, my cup was empty.
“More?”
“Please.”I cracked open the shortbread container and passed it as he added more of his speciality to my cup.
Cookies and wine weren’t the ideal combination, but neither was a sketchy pull-out area in the middle of the mountains.
He leaned back on his palms beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed.
“So tell me about them,” he said quietly.“Your kids.”
The question caught me off guard, despite how it warmed me from the inside.I started talking, fast and fluidly, about Josh’s dream to be in cyber security, about Allie’s great achievements in her culinary program, the way they made me laugh and infuriated me in equal measure.
As I spoke, his expression softened, the teasing gone.He was listening.Really listening.And for the first time in a long while, I felt...seen and heard.
“You light up,” he said when I paused for air.“You probably don’t even notice, but your whole face changes when you talk about them.”
I ducked my head, embarrassed and weirdly grateful.“They’re my everything.They saved me in a lot of ways; ways I could never fully explain to them.Or anyone, really.”
He lifted the bottle of wine and waved it.
“Yeah, don’t be shy.It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”I held my cup as he poured more before he added a bit to his own.
“You’re a proud mom; anyone can see that.And it sounds like you’ve done a bang-up job raising them.I hope they are as proud of you as you are of them.”
The words landed heavy.I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I took another sip of wine.
He shifted, glancing sideways.“So...can I ask you something without you threatening to revoke your passenger privileges?”
“That depends on the question.”
“Why didn’t you ever askmeout?”
Maybe it was the wine.Maybe the blurring stars.Maybe sitting in the dark with someone who once mattered and suddenly mattered again.
But honesty felt like a ledge ...one step and there’d be no going back.
