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“I have cravings. They’re driving me nuts.” She almost whispers. Lukas kisses the side of her head and holds a bag of chocolate-coated cherries in front of her.
She lets out a squeak and snatches them. “Lukas, thank you.”
“What else?”
Her lip trembles. “I miss my sisters.”
“We can fix that for you. You should have said something.” I admonish her and find myself wondering if her eyes are green with gold streaks or gold with green streaks.
“You’re busy, working hard. It’s not fair to ask,” she says and then slams her mouth shut.
“All right. Let’s do this. I saw you throw your meal out, and we haven’t eaten. Let’s call in take away, watch a movie together, and tomorrow, we take your entire family out.” I silently hope she doesn’t ask me to explain how I know she threw out the food. I’m not ready to confess to how much time I’ve spent observing her.
She tries to argue, but I press a finger to her lips and cut her words off. God, they’re soft. I wonder what they taste like.
“Let me do this for you.” I plead gently.
She nods slowly, and I reluctantly remove my finger. But she hugs me, moving close, and now I feel all her soft curves and the rightness of it.
“Lukas?” I ask without looking at him.
“Yeah?”
“Pizza?”
Missy nods, and Lukas whoops and races for the phone.
“Any requests?”
“I eat anything.”
I turn her around, and with my hands on her shoulders, guide her over to the couch and put her next to Seb, who tugs her under his arm.
“I’m sorry,” I hear him say to her softly.
I don’t hear her response, but his words poke at that guilty feeling that has swum in my veins for the last two weeks.
I move to the other side of Seb and stare at the TV as she picks a movie. I assume she’s going to pick a romance, but she surprises me by picking an action movie that’s about ten years old.
“I love this movie.” She says happily.
Lukas comes back and flops down beside her, leaning in to inhale her hair.
“Lukas,” I growl in warning.
He lifts his head and flicks his middle finger up at me behind her back.
“So, how is your family doing?” I ask carefully.
“My family has not contacted me, nor returned my calls or messages.” Her voice is ice cold.
My brain stills, and I stare at her. Surely, there’s been a mistake. “Not even Trin?”
Her lips compress into a thin line, but she turns to me, facing me front on.
“What do you actually want to ask me?” I’m a bit stumped by the aggression in her voice.
“I want to know how Trin is doing?” I say hesitantly to cover up all the other questions I want to throw out and demand answers to, like what do you think about when you sit here all alone? Where do you dream about visiting? What makes you scream yourself awake from your nightmares?
