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“We all have our stories,” Brett says, entering the elevator. “If she wants you to know hers, I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
“Yeah.” I watch the doors close.
My palms start to sweat. I feel my heartbeat in them. It’s amazing what the woman can do to me when I just think about being closer to her.
The elevator opens to my flat.
“See ya later,” I say to Brett and walk into the living area.
It’s quiet except for the elevator closing. I enter the dim-lit room. Maybe she went to bed, soI head to the bedroom. The door is open, but it’s dark. I stand, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
“Cole?”
“I was just checking on you.” I grab the knob, my eyes starting to make out her silhouette in the darkness. “Do you want the door closed?”
“No.”
“Okay. Good night.” I turn around.
“Cole.” She repeats my name.
I stop with my back to her. “Yeah?”
“Would you…” There’s a second-guessing pause.
I wait.
“Would you lie down with me for a little while?”
It takes me a second to respond. “Sure.”
I go into the room, get on the bed, and put my arm behind my head. I gaze up at the ceiling, inhaling the bouquet of her feminine scent while listening to her breathing.
I’m not sure what she wants, what she needs. So I wait.
“I miss my dad,” she whispers into the darkness.
There’s a hint of pain in her words, and the fact that she didn’t mention her mom doesn’t pass by me.
“He’s been gone for fifteen years.” She rolls over on her side to face me. “Sometimes.” She looks up at me. The light from the hall catches the gold flecks in her eyes. “I forget what his voice sounds like or how he smells.”
“Close your eyes,” I say, and to my surprise, there’s no fight. She does as asked. “Now, think about something before you lost him. A good memory. Something that made you laugh.”
It’s quiet for a long stretch of seconds.
“On the weekends, when he didn’t have to work, he’d wake my brother and me up for a midnight snack. He’d make pancakes and decorate them with blueberries. You know, make smiley faces and stuff. We’d name the pancakes after cartoon characters. Or we’d make pizzas. We’d use whatever we had in the house for toppings. And I can attest that cereal, yah know the ones with little marshmallows, are not good on a pizza.” She laughs. “Oh, thank you.” Her hand rests on my shirt. “I can hear his laughter.” She strokes my chest.
“Good.” I look down at her hand. “What’s your brother’s name?”
“Max. He was seven years younger than me. My dad fostered him since he was one. Then he adopted him when he turned four. It was just my dad and me up until we got Max. My mom left after I was born, but my dad made up for her absence.”
“What happened?”
“They died. Both Max and Dad.” Her voice cracks, mentioning the two people who were likely her entire world up until she lost them.
I place my hand on her head. “I’m sorry, Harper.” I stroke her hair.
“My dad was a hard worker.” She finally breaks the silence. “An electronic assembler at the local factory, Brennan’s. He didn’t get much time off and didn’t make much money, but he saved up enough to take my brother and me to Disneyland. We didn’t have enough to stay in the theme park, so we stayed in a hotel a few miles away. There was a fire.”
