I think I’ve known since we first met that there was more to it—tous—but I wrote it off as physical attraction. Delilah’s gorgeous inside and out, with those stunning blue eyes that seem to see into every nook and cranny of my soul. She was the friend I needed when everything was clouded by grief, helping me overcome it day by day. She chipped away at the darkness that had caged me in. Then Brad broke her heart and—like she helped me—I did my best to be there for her.
All I know is that she understands me better than anyone ever has, except maybe Jarrett. But our timing has always been fucked. I’m still not sure that I’ll ever be healed enough to love her the way she deserves. There are too many unanswered questions about what caused my brother’s fatal injuries that still send me spiraling with anxiety more often than I would like.
But I don’t tell her any of that. Because as much as I want her, that’s not what she needs. She’s on a self-proclaimed dating timeout after being in a relationship for most of her adult life and having her trust shattered. So we stay firmly in the friend zone, meeting weekly for lunch, while I wait, hoping one day she’ll be ready.
“The Grilled Pork Banh Mi looks amazing, but so does the rice bowl. Such a big decision.” She taps her lower lip with an exaggerated pout, looking irresistible. The girl is baiting me, and I don’t even care. I’d order the whole damn menu under the pretense of being a growing boy just so she could graze off little bites of each—just the way she likes to. “What are you going to get?” she finally asks, dropping her menu to look at me.
“You get the rice bowl and I’ll get the Grilled Pork and Spicy Tofu. You can try some of mine. But I get a bite of the rice bowl. And spring rolls . . . we need spring rolls.”
Her face lights up like the scoreboard after a grand slam. “I love this plan. You know the way to my heart.”If only it were that simple.
We place our orders and talk about her dads upcoming trip to visit. When they call her name, I go to grab the food. Turning back toward the table with the tray in my hands I find her with a wide-eyed look on her suddenly ashen face. My shoes squeak against the tile floor as I grind to a halt searching for whatever’s caused the rapid change in her demeanor. Over her head I see the reason for her distress. Fucking Brad. He’s walking up to the door hand in hand with Bridget.
Shaking off my shock at seeing him, I cross the small space and slide back into my seat, setting the tray down and turning Delilah’s chin toward me. “Say the word and we’ll leave.”
Her head whips side to side, but she looks panic-stricken. Shockingly, Brad holds the door for Bridget. When she steps around him Delilah whimpers, her fingers lock around my wrist. “They’re still together.” After everything that happened she cut off contact with both of them, not bothering to keep tabs on what happened to her ex or her best friend. I was in awe of how fucking brave she was for making her mental health a priority. “And she’s pregnant Cruz, they’re having a baby.” My heart ached for her, knowing Delilah was hurt and angry as she mourned the loss of a future she had planned for years. Her eyes gleam with unshed tears that I know are fueled by agonizing memories, not longing.
I would do anything to make her feel better, but the chance to flee without being seen is gone. My hand goes to her cheek, caressing it softly as I turn her head toward me. “Delilah, look at me,” I whisper softly, touching my forehead to hers. “You are the strongest woman I know. They hurt you, but don’t give them that power right now. Focus on me. Deep breaths—I’ve got you.”
She nods and swallows roughly before steeling her features. I scoot my chair further into her space and wrap my arm around her shoulder, caressing her arm. I bury my nose against her hairline. “Put your hand on my knee and smile at me.”
She takes a half-second to react, but she does so flawlessly. Once her eyes are on me, she lights up like I am her entire world. No one else would know that her heart is breaking all over again. With all my focus on Delilah, I lay kisses along her neck. She shivers underneath me, and I’d like to think it has everything to do with me and nothing to do with the anxiety over the footsteps approaching our table. “Focus on me, Hermosa,” I utter against her neck.
“Mmm . . .” Delilah responds dreamily, but she jolts when a throat clears next to us.
“Delilah? Cruz?” I look up to see Brad looking down his nose at us.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?” I have to force my voice to sound disinterested while I continue drawing lazy circles on Delilah’s arm. But inside, it’s taking every ounce of restraint not to lay him out for how he hurt her. Next to me, my girl just rests her head on my shoulder and sighs like she's bored with the whole interaction.
Bridget drops her hand to rest on the top of her stomach, and she dramatically rubs her belly. Delilah’s eyes drop to where she’s making exaggerated circles over the bump.
“Wow, looks like congratulations are in order,” Delilah says sweetly and I swear I hear her tack on an almost silent “better you than me.”
That’s my spunky girl.
“Thanks Dee. Are you two . . . um, together?” Brad waves his hand between us, his forehead crinkling as he stammers over the question.
My fingers breeze down her arm, making her shiver under my touch. “Not sure that’s any of your business. You lost the right to know what happens in Delilah’s life the second you stuck your dick in someone else.”
Brad’s eyebrows shoot up to his thinning hairline—thank you karma—and Bridget scoffs next to him.BecauseI’mthe offensive one here.
She links her finger through mine, beaming at me. “It’s okay, Cruz. I am happier than I’ve ever been.” My stomach flips and I drop a kiss on her head—wishing she meant those words the way I took them.
“Mhmmm. So fucking lucky,” I mumble against her hair.
Bridget tugs Brad’s hand. “Let’s order, I’m starving.”
“Yeah. Okay,” he says, but stays rooted to the spot in front of us. His gaze drops to our linked hands.
“Babe.” Bridget stomps her foot at him—still holding his hand, arms stretched between them. She yanks on his arm dragging him to the counter looking more than a little pissed at his lack of attentiveness toward her.
Thank fuck, they order their food to-go and are out of there in a matter of minutes. When his car doors slam shut and he pulls out of the lot, Delilah takes a full breath for the first time since they walked in.
I twist away from the window toward her, taking her face in my hands. “Are you okay?”
She covers my hands with hers. “Thanks to you. I freaked out for a second but I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” I search her eyes for any sign she’s covering her pain. “It’s okay to not be.”
