Leap Of Faith

Chapter Ten

[photo by Kristina Kutlesa from Unsplash]

Leni

The huge, puffy raincloud is starting to weep. So I'm not surprised when Topher stops backing his Jeep out of our driveway to roll down his window. "Are you all right?" he calls.

"Yes." I make a vague gesture toward the house, meaning I'm not eager to go back inside.

Not that he'd understand. As soon as we came out, I apologized for Dee, bombarding him with personal questions. Topher promised he hadn't minded—a believable promise considering he answered them all. Apparently it was only me who felt uncomfortable with the inquisition.

When Dee asked if he had any siblings, I nearly choked on a swallow of wine. But it was his answer that spurned the nagging presence in my chest. And not because he said no. It was the part he volunteered after that: his mother has some kind of medical issue that means she was lucky to have him.

"I'll see you on Friday then," Topher says. "May I request we go someplace other than the beach?"

"Seriously?" I grimace. "May I remind you that we live on an island?"

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. Now go home and get some sleep."

"Right," he says with a skyward glance. "As soon as I see you out of the storm."

I turn toward the house, raising my hand in a wave. Then watch from the mudroom window until his Jeep turns onto the highway. Dee is no doubt waiting in the kitchen—and I'm dying to talk about our evening. But I'd prefer to do it when she's a little less tipsy.

Not much chance of that happening, but I can stall a bit longer. I open the dryer, pull out a yellow towel and hug it to my chest. It smells like comfort, like every time I was ever wrapped up in Mom's waiting arms. The presence in my chest develops a sharp edge. If she were here...

There's a thud on the opposite side of the interior door. Then another, louder one, right before it swings open, practically catapulting Dee into the cramped room.

The kitchen door isn't nearly as temperamental as the front door, but it has its moments.

"Did he kiss you?" she asks.

"Do you expect me to believe you weren't standing at the window watching?"

Dee's conspiratorial grin is similar to the one she gave me after Topher said he was an only child. "He wanted to kiss you."

Warmth floods my cheeks—and I have to resist an impulse to hide my face in the towel. I allow a long, frustrated groan, though, as I shove it back in the dryer and slam the door.

Dee follows me into the house and past Matt, who is sleeping on the couch again—which is probably the only reason she remains silent until we get to my bedroom.

"I'm serious, Len. There were major sparks flying between the two of you all night."

"No. That's just you, seeing what you want to see."

"It's not. Trust me. I've spent years marveling over how absolutely oblivious you are. John from the aquarium is a prime example. That hottie you kissed in high school is another. I could name a dozen people who've tried to catch your eye over the last ten years and you've always been completely unaffected. Until now."

"My birthmark is the only reason Topher has any—" I hold up a palm. This is not the conversation I want to have. "Do you think he knows my secret? It seemed like it at dinner, right?"