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“What do you need?”
I try to look away, to hide my shame, but he turns me back with his finger beneath my chin. “Tell me.”
“Is it wrong if I just want you to hold me?”
Dane rises to his feet and pulls me with him. “Come on.”
I let him thread our fingers together, and he leads me to the couch.
“Sit.”
I drop heavily onto the worn cushion.
“Do you like white or red?”
“Is vodka an option?”
The corner of his lips twitch. “Not tonight, Mama. I want you relaxed, not numbing yourself.”
“White.”
“Be right back.”
Dane returns first with a glass of white wine offered to me by the stem. Once I take it, he returns to the kitchen. The oven door slams moments before the smell of garlic wafts across the room. My stomach gurgles in protest. Seconds later, Dane reappears, carrying a plate of the pasta dish I created earlier.
He sets the plate on the coffee table. I move to give him room, but he catches my legs before I can and lowers them onto his lap when he sits. Leaning forward, he retrieves the plate. The warmth seeps into my legs from the dish in his hands.
“Open.”
A twirled forkful of pasta awaits, and who am I to resist? I open and wrap my lips around the silverware, locking the food inside. The fork slides out slowly, and he retrieves another bite.
He feeds me in silence, the concern on his face leeching away with each morsel consumed. I probably worried him by running out and staying away after dark, but he’s yet to pry. Instead, he sweetly feeds me as if he has all the time in the world and hasn’t been working and chasing a toddler around all day.
“Thank you,” I say after washing down the last mouthful with a sip of wine. Dane deposits the plate on the table and moves his hands to my calves. With strong fingers, he kneads the tired muscles, eliciting a groan from me.
“Come here, Caiti.” He gently coaxes the wineglass from my hand and places it beside the plate. I place my hand in his and climb over the cushions to straddle his lap. His arms settle around my waist, tucking me tight into his chest. “Is this all right?”
“This is perfect,” I mumble against the fabric of his shirt and close my eyes, giving in to his strong comfort.
