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Good thing I had the marshmallows.
Blessing
Hope
The week at home with Brayleigh flew by. She was in fabulous form, happy to see me, and no longer held the change in routine against me. If we snuggled a little longer every morning and every night, that was certainly my prerogative.
During the day, the work piled on. But, my focus intent, I plowed through. Even Ratcliffe had too much to do to spend much time bothering me. Or anybody else.
It was Wednesday before I made it down to Giovanni’s.
“Heavenly Hope! I thought you’d forgotten me!”
I covered my chest in mock dismay as I protested. “Never! I could never forget you, Giovanni! You’re the only man in my life, don’t you know that?”
I approached the counter and paid for my treats. Giovanni met me at the end of the counter with my tray in hand, a mountain of whip cream and shaved chocolate swirls topping my coffee.
I raised my eyebrows in question at the blatant display of gluttony. When I raised my face to look at him, I caught his frown.
“You are too stressed, Heavenly Hope. You need more sweetness in your life. I can deliver it up to your office if you’re too busy to come down.”
My eyebrows flew up. “I didn’t know you did deliveries?”
“I don’t. But for you? I would,” he promised, his lips tight.
“Aw, you old sweet-talker!” I teased.
The serious glint in his kind, old eyes did not dim.
I lay my hand on his forearm and promised. “I’ll make time for more sweetness in my life.”
“Good,” he grinned, victorious. “Start by giving some to that young man over there.”
I looked over my shoulder and met Ares’ unwavering stare. I swallowed hard, my heart in my throat.
Turning back to Giovanni with a smile, I muttered, “He does seem a bit tense, doesn’t he.”
“Often,” he whispered back, then added conspiratorially, “He’s a good man.”
I leaned toward him, a laugh trembling on my lips. “Are you playing matchmaker, Giovanni?”
He grabbed a towel, ran it over the surface of the counter, and winked at me. “If it goes well, I’ll take the credit.”
I turned with my tray and took a single step toward Ares. For a moment, I longed for the time when I hated him. I wondered if there would come a time my response to him was less than an extreme.
I took another faltering step toward him.
Otherwise.
He didn’t want me.
As attracted as I was to him, spiritually as much as physically, he either didn’t feel the same way or had determined to fight it.
I wanted someone to fight for me.
Not fight to get away from me.
He watched my progress impassively.
