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Honest.
Soothing.
I can almost feel the heat in them. Like a cloudless summer sky.
I shake off the comfort from his presence alone, refusing to acknowledge how close he hit the nail on the head when we both know how little sense it actually makes.
“I’m not lonely,” I argue.
“Okay.” He brushes my hair away from my cheek, his blue irises making my stomach flip-flop as they dance around my face. “You wanna not be lonely together?”
“What?” I breathe out.
“I said, do you wanna not be lonely together?”
“I just told you I’m not lonely.”
“And I heard you loud and clear, Kate. But do you wanna know a secret?”
“What?”
“I was married for sixteen years, and I might’ve messed up on a lot of things, but there were a few things I did learn.”
“Like what?”
“Like sometimes, a woman’s eyes can say what her mouth refuses to.”
My attention drops to his mouth. He’s so close. When did he get this close? I swear I can almost taste the black coffee on his tongue.
“And what are my eyes saying?” I whisper.
His mouth quirks up in the softest of smiles. “They’re saying you could use a friend.”
My gaze flicks back to his. “A friend?”
“Yeah.”
“I have friends,” I remind him.
“Okay.” His chuckle is warm as he grabs another stubborn strand of my hair blowing across my forehead in the wind and tucks it behind my ear. “I’m saying you could use a different kind of friend.”
“What kind of different kind of friend?”
“The boring kind.”
A breath of laughter escapes me. “Are you saying you’re a boring friend?”
“I’m very boring,” he admits, smirking. “Somehow, I think you might like boring. You already have friends who invite you to do crazy things. I’m the friend who invites you to do boring things.”
“Like what?”
“Like hanging out. Making cookies. Watching movies. Reading books. Friends who stay at home and watch the rain. Friends who don’t need to go out or drink or party or get laid. Just…friends. Friends you can feel safe with.”
Damn him.
The idea sounds pretty freaking perfect if only it was delivered by anyone else. But Macklin? He’s different. Yet, I can’t put my finger on why.
Against my better judgment, I whisper, “You wanna be my friend?”
