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She smiles. “You’re weird. Like me.”
“I have some quirks, yeah.” I flip the eggs, wait just long enough for them to be over medium, then plate it all up and slide it in front of her along with some maple syrup. “Eat up.”
I crack two more eggs as she digs in.
She moans around a mouthful of pancake, and I have to stand facing the stove for a while afterwards to hide what she’s doing to me. I eat most of my breakfast there, then scoop up my eggs and join her at the bar.
“You can cook. Like, really cook.” She chews her bacon.
“Thanks.” I take a bite of my eggs. “Are you still worried about me, you know, stalking you?” I don’t hold my breath exactly, but I do wait on her next words.
She chews and turns to look at me, her gaze thoughtful. “It’s weird. But maybe it’s a good weird? I mean, I know I can be sort of … tough to get to. I take meds for it. I honestly don’t think I’d be able to leave my house if it weren’t for my prescriptions.” The shame that tinges her voice pulls at my heart.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” I drop my fork and turn to her. “Nothing at all. Everyone has issues. Anxiety, depression, irrational fears—it’s just that some people hide theirs better than others. At least you’re honest about it.” I press my palm to her cheek, and she leans into my touch. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, okay?”
She takes a deep breath, and her eyes water. “Really?”
“Yes.” I turn all the way to face her. “Anyone who’s told you otherwise is dead wrong.”
A tear escapes the corner of her eye, and I wipe it away with my thumb. “What’s hurting you, angel? Tell me so I can make it better.”
“Nothing now. It’s just … when I was young, my mother always told me I was—” Her breath shudders, and I pull her into my lap.
She doesn’t protest, which pleases me more than I could have imagined.
“Go on, sweet thing.” I wipe another of her tears.
“She told me there was something wrong with me. When I didn’t want to leave the house, she would scold me and sometimes lock me in the closet or threaten to leave and never come back. There was a lot.” She sniffles. “A lot of things she did to try and make me ‘normal,’ but none of it worked. I still couldn’t go into crowds, got anxious whenever I met new people, couldn’t raise my voice to be heard, couldn’t do anything right in her eyes. So I sort of turned inward even more, I guess. Because it’s safe in here.” She taps her chest. “In here, I’m fine.”
I grit my teeth, anger seething inside me that she was made to think she was defective somehow. “You’re perfect, angel. Just like you are.”
“I can’t believe that,” she whispers.
“Believe it.” I gently turn her chin so she has to look in my eyes. “Believeme. I think you’re amazing.”
“You don’t know me.” She shakes her head.
“Then tell me about you.” I wrap my arm around her waist. “Tell me your job and your likes and dislikes.”
She finally smiles a little, and the vise around my heart loosens. “You seem to already know my likes and dislikes.”
“Wild guesses.” I shrug. “Tell me about work.”
“I write.” She brightens even more. “I do travel writing about fabulous locales. All sorts of—” She stops and looks at me with guilty eyes. “I guess you already know I don’t leave the house, so I’m a travel writer who never actually travels.”
“You write. You create. And I can only assume people enjoy your articles since you spend a small fortune every year on Christmas lights and electricity.” I shrug. “I don’t see a problem with it.”
She smiles. “That’s how I think of it, and maybe I’m just rationalizing bad behavior, but I really do feel like I’ve been to these places. I spend days, sometimes weeks, sometimesmonthsresearching, reading, watching videos, scrutinizing photos, making calls—I do everything except crunch the dirt beneath my feet. It’sreal.” Her excitement rises with each word, and I’m tempted more than ever to claim her lips. “When I’m done writing my story, I’vebeento Machu Picchu. I’ve explored a pyramid. I’ve run my fingers along the stones of Petra. Does that sound stupid?”
“Sounds brilliant to me.” I mean every word.
She beams. “If you’re a stalker, then please continue the stalking.”
“Will do.” I pull her tighter to my chest.
“What do you do for a living?”
“Nothing as fun as all that. Just computer stuff.” I stroke her cheek. “There’s also one other thing I’d like to address.”
