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“Right…”
Her disappointment is so tangible it creates an undeniable ache in my chest.
“Some other time I guess.”
My mouth moves to say something thoughtful or smooth or even romantic but only manages to meekly agree, “I’d like that.”
An uncomfortable, somber pause occurs prior to Harper politely stating, “Have a good day, Tate.”
“You as well.”
And just like that gone are my spoils.
Gone is the extra sunlight shining down on me.
One moment I have the whole world literally in the palm of my hand and the next I’m not so certain that it’ll ever turn again.
I want to see her.
I need to.
Anxiousness has my fingers acting before my mind has fully developed a plan. This time there’s only one ring between us and even that seems excessive.
“Yeah?” Harper happily answers as if she had been hoping I’d immediately call back.
“Breakfast?” Giving the back of my neck a nervous scratch is done while haphazardly conjuring a plan. “I get off around twelve thirty and back from the bar a little before your shift ends. I could meet you at your place or have you come over to mine. Make you breakfast.” The new idea places a bit of confidence back in my speech. “I know my way around the kitchen as much as the table.”
She sweetly giggles, a sound that’s so feminine and soft and innocent that it has me wanting to reach through the phone and hold her in my arms. “Okay.”
Excitement darts into my expression. “As in yes?”
“Yeah, we can do breakfast at my place. I’m off at two, but I’ll be home around 2:20, 2:30. I don’t go back in until noon. If that’s good with you, I’ll text you my address.”
“Text away.”
Images of her smiling at the statement appear in my mind, fueling the urge to need to see it.
Her.
“Any allergies?” I casually inquire, warm summer wind wrapping around me. “Or foods you would rather I avoid?”
“Pears,” she replies without reluctance. “No allergies, but I hate pears.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Texture. Taste. Got nailed in the back of the thigh once by a bully as a kid.”
“Fuck that. I won’t even let them look in my cart.” Her additional laughter lifts me up onto some sort of pedestal I never saw myself wanting to sit on. Pleased and proud to be here has me purring, “I can’t wait to see you again, beautiful.”
“Me either.”
The unexpected confession successfully renders me speechless.
“I gotta um…,”she verbally stumbles to end the conversation, “go get ready for work, but I’ll see you…early in the morning.”
“Not early enough.” My retort receives another snicker. “Remember to have a good day.”
“You too.”
