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“South African red.
I smiled.
“I remember that,” I said.
“Did you buy the bottle?” he asked, referring to the merlot he’d recommended in the supermarket back when he was just Suit Guy, and I was just Trolley Girl.
I nodded my head. He didn’t need to know I hadn’t bought it that day. I hadn’t dared to buy the wine that day. But I found it a few days later when Sean had taken an extra shift.
“Did you like it?” he asked.
“I did.” I got drunk on it, while Sean worked in Helensville and I played Crash Bandicoot.
“I’m glad,” he said, taking a sip of his own.
I wasn’t sure why it felt so awkward. It hadn’t felt awkward last night. And then I was remembering the kiss on my doorstep. The feel of his lips on mine. The possessive touch of his arm around my back, pulling me firmly against him.
My heartbeat sped up; my breaths raced them. I took another deep drink of the wine to settle both.
Michael shifted his seat around the side of the table. I forgot to count my breaths.
He cupped my chin. Turned me to face him. Then kissed me softly on the lips.
It was different from last night. It was careful as if I was fragile and could break apart in the next moment. He pulled back, blue eyes staring intently at me. He ran his fingers along my jaw.
“It’s OK, Kylee,” he said. “Just breathe.”
And then he started counting. One. Two. Three. His words soft, just for me. His eyes never leaving my face. His hand cupping the side of my jaw, carefully.
I felt the tears on my cheek. He kissed them dry. I counted in my head, and he counted aloud. Grounding me.
I could fall madly in love with this man, I realised.
I wondered if he could fall for me.
