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She turned in his arms. He was rumpled, tousled and whiskery. He looked wonderful. “You’d do that for me?”
“You’re my roommate.”
He said it with such quiet conviction, an unshakable faith that this care was what she deserved. Roommate wasn’t the right label for what they were. Ex-lovers, friends. She buried her face in his neck and let the size of him fortify her, the soapy-clean wood-chip smell of him make her believe in a world that could be good enough without Drew in it.
“Ricotta honeycomb hotcakes.”
He rumbled that in her ear as she was almost asleep. She looked up at him. “You’re looking at me strangely, Tom O’Connell.”
“It’s my ricotta honeycomb hotcake look. You know you want some.”
“God.” She shoved against his chest, needing an outlet for how he was making her feel, like she was held in the palm of his hand and nothing she didn’t want would get past him. “If you keep being so nice to me, you will make me cry again. My protective coating is faulty this morning.”
“Ricotta honeycomb hotcakes will put so much happy in your mouth they will make the whole day seem less terrible.”
“Do you promise?” The phrase slipped out, under her guard, and the sting of tears was so quick it made her clutch at his arm.
He brushed his knuckles on her cheekbone. “I guarantee it.”
She ate Tom’s hotcakes wrapped in a blanket on the balcony. He sat beside her. He didn’t try to make her talk or babble to fill the silence. He didn’t do anything except eat his breakfast and drink his coffee, but reassurance flowed from him like sunlight, coating Flick with calm.
He made her a second cup of coffee and returned with it, dressed for work. He was brushed and shaved and buttoned up, smelling of a citrus aftershave. Flick stuck a fork in her mouth and sucked on it, so she wouldn’t ask him to stay. It was what she wanted, but it wouldn’t be fair and he might feel obligated, and he’d already done enough.
“Will you be okay?” He went to his haunches so he looked directly in her eyes when he said that and she couldn’t guard herself against his scrutiny. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his middle and make him stay because she was scared of being alone with her thoughts.
“I’ll sleep.” She’d try at least. She no longer felt as queasy.
“I called Cassidy Strauss, spoke to Charles and told him you wouldn’t be in until further notice.”
She gasped. “How did he take that? We had words yesterday, he’s going to think—”
“That you had a family emergency, because that’s what I told him.”
“Oh.” That would work. Tom wasn’t just any roommate making a courtesy call; his words had weight.
“You have my cell number. I expect you to call me if you need anything. If you want to talk.”
That made her smile. Roommates who share cell numbers for something other than dark-side-of-the-morning balcony-lock-out emergencies. “Is it possible we’re becoming friends, Tom O’Connell?” Having Tom as a friend would be better than having him as an occasional guilty hookup. Friendship was guilt-free and came without the complications caused by distance.
He ruffled her hair on his way upright. “The wild thought had crossed my mind.”
Shoving hair out of her eyes, she looked up at him. “Bet that freaks you out.”
He bent and kissed her forehead. “Not nearly as much as you’d think.”
Flick did a lot of thinking. About Drew, about what losing him meant, about delaying, canceling her move to Washington. If Coalition for Humanity couldn’t wait a few more months for her, then it wasn’t too late to ask Charles for her job back.
She thought about Elsie and Mom and predicted a stolen bike and planned to start a college fund for Kendall and Krystal because they were going to need that more than the next must-have object.
And she thought about Tom. Mac and cheese and peach pie, a cooked breakfast and comforting hugs, and counted the hours until she’d see him again.
And
she thought about what that meant and didn’t have the answer.
Chapter Thirteen
Tom didn’t like leaving Flick. He got to the building foyer and almost turned back. He could take a day’s leave too, there’d be no issue. But would she want that? He’d pushed her into accepting him in her bed and made it hard for her not to eat breakfast. She’d clung to him most of the night so he didn’t regret that call, but once they were out of bed she shut down on him. Just that one smile to show she was somewhere inside the shell she’d drawn around herself.
