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CHARIS
Gibson’s face is flushed, and his eyes are downturned as he walks away from Stone. His expression is one that’s easy to read. Fury, anger, sadness, all mixed together.
“Gibson, you okay?” I ask, as he bumps into me, not watching where he’s walking, and we’re stopped just twenty feet from Stone.
“Ah, yeah, sweetheart. I’m not feeling well. I’m going to lie down for a while. See if I can knock out this migraine.”
He hurries past me, not another comment. I thought he’d chat a little about that date he asked me out on. And maybe he’s being respectful of Stone since I’m technically here with him.
Stone is laid back, sipping the same beer from earlier. “Is Gibson okay? I saw you talking, and he mentioned he wasn’t feeling well,” I ask.
“I’m not sure—just talking about shared interests and all. Hopefully he’s able to get some rest, to join the festivities later.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I bite my lip, a little nervous about what I should disclose to him. “I’ve got to be honest with you, Stone.”
He sits forward, his elbows on his knees. “Oh, you seem serious, love.”
His smile forms so effortlessly on his lips. He wears his blond hair cut tightly against his head, and his blue eyes dance off the sun peeking into the tent giving us a cool place to hang out.
“Well, it’s not super serious, but I need you to know—today when I came to help Bridget, it’s when I realized that Gibson was the man who saved me from my ex-husband. And we started chatting and such. He asked me out, and I felt a connection to him, but I won’t lie. I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out, too. I know I must sound like a terrible person. Like Jezebel, but—”
I’m droning on and on when his touch connects with my hand. “Charis, I can never fault you for going out with a man, who seems like a great guy. I mean, he surrounds himself with crazy kindergarteners all day long, my own being one of them, and…”
He trails off. I don’t know what he’d been about to say, but when he doesn’t start again, I take over.
“I know one day I’ll have to make up my mind, and who’s to say you won’t get tired of me.”
His touch is still on my hand. He squeezes it a little bit more. “I can almost guarantee you, love, that I won’t get tired of you. And I’m not against you seeing another person, because when you know, you’ll know. Anyway, would it make you feel better knowing I’m sort of seeing another person too?”
Does it? I’m not sure. A jealousy surges through me and it’d be wrong for me to be jealous, when he most certainly is not. “No, not at all.” Do I get that out without it sounding forced.
“Ah, you get an A for effort on that one, love.” I guess he could tell it bothers me. It shouldn’t but it really does.
“So.” I pause for a second because I’m not expecting this sort of reaction from him, but also from me.
“I hope there’s another date with you, and soon. But if you want to go out with the cute teacher, you should. From what I know, your marriage wasn’t a good one. And you deserve freedom to find a guy who makes you happy.”
I’m fixated on his words, but I’m hyper focused on the fact that he called Gibson cute. However, I know what an attractive woman looks like, and maybe there’s jealousy on Stone’s part. Yet again, Stone is just as attractive as Gibson.
* * *
It’spast ten by the time the last guest leaves Bridget and Simon’s house. I won’t disappear on Bridget with all the mess in her kitchen. I search for Tupperware, but I can’t find it. All I want is to put away the fucking lettuce and tomatoes.
“Can I help you?” I know this voice. It’s not Stone.
I swing around, and in my haste, I forget about most of the cabinets I’ve not shut. At the corner of my head, only inches from my eyes, I bang it. Let me be clear—being a nurse I know there’s hitting my head and then there’s making me see stars. It’s the latter, in the moment. The stars I just spoke about along with dizziness set in.
“Ah, shit, sweetheart. Fuck. Stop, don’t move.”
I can’t move. I place my hands on the counter to support me.
Arms wrap around my waist. It’s a comfort. Like wind blowing on my back on a hot summer’s day, and this is the same feeling.
“Let me walk you over to the kitchen table. You okay?”
I don’t answer but follow his lead.
“Here, ease yourself down onto the chair, and I’ll get Simon to take a look at you.”
