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He glanced at the clock, glanced away again. What was Rory doing tonight? Was she down at Loki’s with her friends? Curled up in her bed sleeping?
Missing him, like he was already missing her?
He curled his hand into a fist and felt the familiar pinch of the band on his finger. He’d worn that ring for so long.
Before he could stop himself, he yanked off the ring and opened the nightstand drawer. He dropped it inside and closed the drawer, oddly spooked. He couldn’t really still hear it rattling around in there. Nope. Just paranoid. He flexed his newly bare finger and reached for his phone while he still had some nerve left.
It went off in his hand.
He didn’t look at the readout, afraid to hope. “Hello?”
“Don’t say anything.”
His heart started again, beating hard against the walls of his chest. He had to work at keeping the smile on his face out of his voice. Maybe she meant for this to be a serious call.
All that mattered was that she hadn’t given up on him. Not totally. Thank God.
“Okay.”
“I would never force a decision on you. I know it seemed like I was, that I expected you to jump when I snapped my fingers. You have to understand something. I’ve never experienced anything like you have. I don’t get grief.” She gave an impatient breath. “Well, I mean, I get it. Intellectually. But I’ve never lost anyone close to me like you have so I’m learning what that means. We’re just getting to know each other and the likelihood is that I’m going to push you too hard sometimes or say the wrong thing. But I want to try. I want to be your friend if you’ll let me, Sam. And if that’s all we ever are, then I’m okay with that.”
He waited a beat, making sure she was finished. “Are you?”
“Yes. I’m a much better friend than a lover. At the sex part, I’m okay. All the rest is a big mess.” Her tone didn’t waver. “So yeah, I want to be friends.”
“What if I don’t?”
“That’s up to you. But I couldn’t leave things where they were this afternoon. I’m not after you just for sex. I could get that anywhere.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good to know.”
His dry remark elicited a short laugh, as he’d hoped. “That’s not what I meant. God, I suck at deep conversations.”
“I think you’re doing just fine.”
“But you still don’t want to be my friend.”
He pictured the sexy pout that probably accompanied her statement and stifled a groan. “I didn’t exactly say that. I just wanted to know what my options were.”
“They’re all open to you. Whatever you want this to be, I’m up for. I’ll do my best to keep things loose and easy and we can have fun together. Go check out that car show we talked about, hang out and have lunch now and then.”
“Talk on the phone.”
“Yes. Talk on the phone.” He heard her breath catch. “Like we are right now.”
“It’s nice.”
“Very.”
“So I’m reading this book,” he said lightly, gripping the spine. “It’s about moving past grief.”
“Oh.” Another of those shuddery breaths filtered over the line. “Is it good?”
“The first paragraph is. I haven’t managed to read more yet since I’ve been lying here thinking about you and trying to talk myself out of calling you.”
“Oh,” she said again. Then silence.
“I was reaching for the phone when you called.”
