Page 51 of When a Soul Cries

“That slick shit.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You like it though.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but something about the way he was looking at me made the lie sit right there on my tongue. So I reached for my drink instead.

Rome’s smile deepened.

Thankfully, the waitress came back before he could say anything else.

We ordered, and for a little while, the conversation stayed light. Music, food, work. He told me little pieces about himself without giving me too much, and I did the same.

But every few minutes, my mind slipped away from the table.

Rent. The notice. Halo. My car payment. Daycare.

Where would we go if I couldn’t fix this?

Rome was saying something when I realized I hadn’t heard a word.

“Sol.”

I blinked and looked up. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“What?”

“You left.”

My brows pulled together. “I ain’t go nowhere.”

“Yeah, you did.”

I looked down at my plate, moving a piece of food around with my fork. “I’m good.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I am.”

Rome didn’t answer right away. When I finally looked up, he was studying me. Not nosy. Not amused. Studying me.

“What?” I asked, more defensively than I meant to.

He leaned back slightly. “Nothing.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you trying to figure me out.”

His eyes stayed on mine. “Maybe I am.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t know me.”

“That ain’t a reason.”