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Given yesterday’s conversation, I wasn’t about to dive into that dark, personal hole. One thing I’d learned last night about Sydney was that once you made her mad, she stayed there, so you’d better be ready to ride it out.
I did want to make sure we were okay though.
“About yesterday,” I began cautiously.
She took off her jacket, which I was slowly beginning to love. Even though it was the least flattering coat I’d ever seen in my life, she kinda looked like an adorable marshmallow in it, and I couldn’t help that it made me smile. She draped it over the stool, and the smile slipped from her face.
I felt the room drop a few degrees and immediately blurted out, “I’m sorry.” I’d said it last night, too, but an extra time couldn’t hurt, right?
And I was sorry. Not for bringing it up or stating the obvious. Part of me wanted to lecture her on how life was too short and that she needed to do what she wanted to do. But it wasn’t my place. I was no one to her.
Ugh. That thought stuck to the side of my ribs like a fast-food meal.
She ignored me and dropped the bagels on the center island. “What happened here?” she asked, bending down to pick up the glasses. Luckily, none of them had broken.
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling embarrassed. “I was trying to get a glass of water.”
I tried not to stare at her ass as she picked everything up. She was wearing a cream sweater and jeans that hugged her hips. I loved that she was petite, but she wasn’t stick thin. She had a little meat on her—notably in the curve of her hips, in her perky breasts. All the places that mattered.
Once she was done tucking everything back in its place, she turned her attention to the bagels on the counter, taking them out of the bag and opening up the cream cheese.
“I just got an everything bagel for each of us. I didn’t know if you were allergic to sesame seeds or anything, but I thought plain seemed kind of boring.”
She still hadn’t acknowledged my apology. It annoyed me because I gave so very few out, and now, I’d already given her two. Apologies were given too frequently.
I mostly hated them because that was all my dad had said when he left.“I’m sorry.”No explanation, no reason, no other excuses, no lies. Just an apology. And then he was out the door, suitcase in hand.
We’d seen him a few times after that, but when he’d met his new wife and started a family with her, we were long gone out of the picture.
“Sydney …” I urged, willing her to look at me.
She wouldn’t look at me.
“I heard you.” She was hyperfocused on spreading the cream cheese evenly. “There’s no need for apologies.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Her eyes met mine then. “You didn’t”—her eyes dropped back to the bagel—“offend me.”
“It sure looks like I did.” I stepped closer, into her personal space.
Finally—finally—she looked at me, and in her eyes, I saw raw vulnerability.
Damn, that emotion tugged at me fiercely, and I realized I was really starting to care for her.Shit.
“It’s true though.” Her voice was soft, sad. “I just got upset with you because Serena had said something along those lines and it all … triggered me, I guess.”
I opened my mouth to speak but shut it.
She placed my bagel on a plate and extended it my way, like a peace offering.
“Thank you.” I wanted to add more. If she knew that she wasn’t living life to the fullest, I wanted to ask her what she was going to do about it, but I took a bite of my bagel instead. “How old are you?” I asked, praying that wouldn’t trigger her. I could tell Sydney wasn’t one for dramatics, but she had also sacrificed a lot for her family, and it seemed like some questions were touchy.
But to my utter relief, she laughed. It was rich, delightful, and catching. “How old do I look?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Not old enough to be a mother to two twenty-three year olds.”
The frown was back on her face.
