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“And really, we’re both getting something out of this,” he continues, and I force myself to focus. “Probably me more than you.”
“I got a new backpack that cost several hundred dollars and a fresh new cookie.” I glance up at him. “What do you get?”
His arm is heavy around my shoulders as he speaks. “Something interesting to break up my day. The company of a beautiful woman.” He lifts his other hand. “Cookies.”
My eyes move to his half-eaten stack of cookies as I try to figure out if this is real or if I fell and cracked my head on the floor and am hallucinating the whole thing.
“Make me happy, Angel.” I glance back up, finding his blue eyes locked on mine. “Let me feed you. Eat your treat.”
My breath catches, my mind sprinting to images of me on my knees, one of his hands in my hair…
Don’t go there, Val.
Tentatively, I take a bite of my cookie. When I do, I can feel his hum of appreciation where my body is pressed against his.
I think I hear him say something. Something likethat’s my girl, but that can’t be right.
In silence that should be uncomfortable, I walk through the busy airport terminal, eating a cookie, with a handsome-as-hell man at my side. His arm is still over my shoulder, and my backpack is on his back, like we’re a happy couple on vacation, not a pair of total strangers who literally ran into each other.
But what’s the harm in pretending?
Lean in.
My eyes flutter closed for two steps as I let myself lean into him. Lean into the feeling. Lean into the make-believe world where this is my life. Where this man is really here with me. Where I’m happy. Loved.
A tightness wraps around my throat, and I blink my eyes open, shoving another bite of cookie into my mouth.
Make-believe, indeed.
At least side by side he can’t watch me eat, so I hurry and finish the rest of my cookie. Because this is the real world. And he’s just being nice.
He’s probably someone who travels a lot. Probably a little bored. And sure, I’m cute enough. I’m chubby, but I think I carry it okay and my face is nice. But in my tennis shoes and bright yellow dress, I’m no match for him.
He’s probably the VP of something. Someone who owns more than one vehicle. Someone with self-esteem and a mom who loves him.
A pang hits deep in my chest.
This is only a moment. I will be happy in another moment.
I repeat the words my therapist has told me time and time again.
Then I repeat the words Dom said only a few moments ago.
Lean in.
I fill my lungs with a deep breath and decide to pretend this is my life.
I’ll be happy in this moment.
A big hand plucks the empty napkin from my hand, and he balls it up with his own and drops them into a trash can as we walk past.
“So.” I force my courage to the surface. “Do you live in Minnesota?”
There’s a light pressure on my far shoulder as he tightens his grip on me, just the smallest bit.
“No, just passing through on my way to Chicago.” His tone sounds almost apologetic, and I try not to feel disappointed.
It’s for the best, I tell myself.
