Taking Connor (11 page)

Wendy is waiting for me in a corner booth when I arrive. I’ve known her my entire life and just looking at her as I approach the table, I know something is wrong. Hey eyes look puffy and an empty glass sets next to the beer in her hand. She’s in a drinking mood tonight.

“Hi,” I venture. “You okay?”

She gives me a sad smile. “I am. Just . . . had a bad couple of days.” Her blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail, and she runs her hand over it as she looks away from me, her eyes growing teary.

My brows furrow in concern. Wendy rarely gets emotional, so I know it must be bad. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She blinks a few times, trying to clear the emotion from her eyes. “I hadn’t told anyone,” she begins, “but I was pregnant. I found out a week ago, but I miscarried two days ago.”

I lean forward and take her hand, my heart breaking for her. “I knew something was wrong when I saw you yesterday. I’m so sorry¸ Wendy,” I offer.

“I couldn’t have been more than two months. I know it seems silly that I’m so upset about it when I wasn’t so far along.”

“It’s not silly at all,” I reply, firmly. I hate that women are made to feel like they can’t mourn the loss of a baby they miscarried early on. I’ve never been pregnant, but just the idea of finding out my child was growing inside of me makes my heart swell with love; I can’t imagine how it feels to actually see that positive pregnancy test. “That was your baby, Wendy. You have every right to feel sad and mourn this loss and don’t let anyone make you feel differently.”

She takes a napkin from the dispenser between us and wipes under her eyes. “Thank you, Demi.”

“How’s Jeff taking it?” I query, still holding her hand.

“He’s sad. We’re both sad. But in a way . . . maybe it’s best. We’re having so many problems with Grayson, behavioral wise and with Jeff out of work we have no insurance. Money is so tight right now. It isn’t the right time for a baby.”

I frown. How sad that she has to think of money when she’s just lost her baby. I hate that they’re struggling so much. “I’m happy to give you money, Wendy.”

“No,” she states flatly. “I appreciate it, but no.”

I nod once, deciding not to argue with her. I’ve offered before, and she gave the same adamant answer. So instead, I make an offer I know she can’t refuse. “How about I keep the kids at my house this weekend.”

Her eyes dart to mine, riddled with disbelief. A person offering to watch her five children for a weekend are few and far between. I can’t help chuckling a little, even with the grim news she just shared. “Yes,” I assure her. “You heard me right.”

“You do understand I have
five
children, don’t you?”

“Are those who all those small people are that are always hanging around you?” I jest, my brows furrowed in mock confusion.

“Five, Demi.” She lifts her hand, all five fingers fanned out. “Five.”

“I was there when each of them was born,” I reply dryly.

“You don’t have to do that, Demi. I don’t want to put that burden on you,” she sighs.

“They’re my godchildren, Wendy. And they’ve spent the night with me before.” This is true. Each of them has stayed with me . . . just not all five at once. But I know I can handle this, and nothing would make me happier than to give her some time to mourn and heal in peace.

She gives me a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” I confirm, pulling my hand away as the waitress approaches our table. After I order two beers—one for me, one for Wendy—and the waitress scurries off, I add, “Connor will be there to help.”

She smiles. “The kids liked him.” I’m surprised she’s so . . . relaxed about her children being around Connor. She’s only met him twice so it’s not like she knows him well. All she knows is he’s a convicted felon.

“So you trust him?” I ask as the waitress places our pint glasses on the table. I don’t know why I’m asking her. Well, maybe I do. The truth is, my brain keeps telling me to be wary of Connor. His past scares me, somewhat. But the more I’m around him, the more I trust him. But how much of that is this attraction to him that I’m trying to deny I feel? Are hormones getting in the way of my reasoning abilities?

She smirks slightly in thought. “I do. I can’t explain it, but I have a good feeling about him. Besides,” she adds, “Blake wasn’t the kind of man to love anyone who was undeserving. If Blake believed Connor is a good guy, it must be true.”

And there it is. My exact thoughts. And that’s one of the things I love about Wendy. She doesn’t buy labels. Just because Connor was in prison, doesn’t make him a bad person. And even if he was a bad person, people can change, right? I mean, everyone makes mistakes. Granted, hurting another person is a big mistake, but deep down I know there has to be more to the story.

“And I’ll get Lexi to come and help too.”

She’s sipping her beer when she snorts with my words. After she coughs a few times, clearing her throat, in a husky voice she says, “I’m more worried about her influence on my children than I am Connor.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, well I may need her as a reinforcement.”

Wendy nods. “Yes. You will.”

Tuesday seemed to fly by, but Wednesday rolled on, taking its sweet time. My finger taps my steering wheel idly as I drive home to get ready. I have no idea what to wear. I mean, Vick seems like a low-key kind of guy so I’m sure whatever I wear will be fine, but I do want to look nice. I can’t deny I’m excited. A date. I’m going on a date. It’s scary and enthralling all at once. When I get home, I rush inside and hurry upstairs to find Lexi laying outfits out on my bed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why do you always ask me that every time I show up here?”

“Because you are always showing up here.”

She purses her lips in annoyance. “I said I would come over and help you get ready, asshole.”

I forgot she said she was coming over. I guess I am an asshole because of my greeting, but now I’m not so sure I want her help because we’ll probably argue. “I think I can manage on my own, Lex.”

She walks into my closet and yells, “It’s been a while Demi. You’re out of practice.”

I flop down on my bed and resolve to let her help me since she doesn’t seem to be harboring any hurt feelings about my less than inviting welcome. But glancing at the outfits she’s laid out, I’m worried. Maybe it isn’t a good idea for her to help me. As she walks out of my closet holding a nude, skin-tight dress I wore many years ago, I warn her, “I’m not dressing like a ho tonight, Lexi.”

“What do you have all these cute dresses for if you’re never going to wear them?” she asks as she lays the dress with the others on my bed.

“Because I might wear them one day.”

“And why not today?” she counters.

“Because it’s a first date at a town bar, for starters. Secondly, I’m not trying to give him the idea I want to jump his bones on the first date.”

Her facial features brighten, and she perks up. “So you have thought about jumping his bones at some point then?”

I press my lips together, frustrated with myself for not wording myself better. “No. I mean, he’s attractive, but I haven’t thought about anything beyond having dinner with him.”

Lexi smiles and takes a deep breath. “I know this is a big deal for you. I’m proud of you for trying.”

I know she’s been worried about me. Wendy too. They’ve both feared I’d become the loneliest widow in Gotham City. I just haven’t been ready. But I think I am now. And I think even if things don’t pan out with Vick, at the very least he’ll be a great icebreaker for me.

“Come on,” I murmur, as I head to my closet. “Let’s find me something sexy, but appropriate to wear.”

Lexi and I battled over the definition of sexy. In the end, we met in the middle. I’m wearing a strapless black cotton dress with platform flip flops. She begged me to wear heels, but I refused. Middle ground was the platform on the flip flops.

Tillie’s is busy tonight; the happy hour crew is crowded around the bar, chugging two dollar drafts before seven. I’m standing in the foyer of the restaurant, searching the tables that line both sides, looking for Vick, when someone’s hand presses my lower back.

“I’ve thought about this moment every day since we met. What you’d look like. I have to say, my imagination needs some work.”

My mouth curves up as I twist my neck and find Vick with an appreciative smile on his face. When I turn, he grabs me in for a quick hug, but before he pulls away, he adds, “You smell better than I imagined, too.”

“Can you imagine how someone will smell?” I query as I step back to drink him in. He’s wearing worn tattered jeans and a plain, white cotton T-shirt. He looks amazing. Oh, and he’s wearing flip-flops. I’m so glad I didn’t overdo it with dressing up tonight. I am a bit more dressy than he is, but not awkwardly so.

“Maybe not the scent, but you can imagine the feeling or sensations a scent gives you.”

I nod in agreement and smile. “That was an excellent answer, Mr. Reynolds. Are you trying to seduce me with your charming repartee?”

His mouth quirks on one side, and he shrugs his shoulder. “Well, I don’t have a vast fortune or incredible looks to impress you with, so I’m forced to use the only things I do have. I hope you like smart men with huge penises.”

I suck in air through my teeth before biting my lip, feigning disappointment. “Maybe we should cancel now. I
really
hate intelligent men.” Then after a beat, I add, “But . . . the huge penis might be your saving grace.”

“I knew this monster would do me proud one day,” he says, with pride, looking down at himself. We both laugh as the hostess approaches and Vick lets her know we need a table for two.

Once we’re seated, our waitress approaches and quickly takes our drink orders. The conversation flows easily. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. I quickly learn that Vick is a jokester and has a zest for telling stories that make you laugh.

“So my uncle spends the entire day in these sunglasses and keeps bitching about how bright it is outside. My cousin and I could barely keep ourselves from laughing in front of him, but somehow we managed.”

“So you guys just let him walk around all day wearing sunglasses with no lens? And he never realized it?”

Vick leans back and laughs, and I can’t help but admire his perfectly white teeth. “All damn day. And the funny thing is, no one else said anything either.”

I shake my head as I chuckle. “Your poor uncle. That sounds like something I would do.”

“Eh, he took it well. He’s pretty good about laughing at himself.”

We both smile as a pause of silence falls between us, but when our eyes meet, Vick leans forward, resting both arms on the table as he looks at me.

“I like you, Demi Stevens.”

My cheeks heat as I fight the grin trying to break out across my face. “You’re not so bad yourself Vick.”

“I know . . .” he pauses as if unsure how to word what he wants to say, “I know this is your first time out since your husband passed.” I can’t help but wince a little at his words. “Sorry,” he says, sincerely. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject. I just want to say, this is new, and so far I like you. And I’m prepared to go as slow as you’d like.”

Okay, my heart flutters a little. He gets me. He barely knows me, and he gets me. While I feel ready to burst into the dating scene, I’m not naïve enough to believe it’ll all come easy. Blake is the only man that has touched me . . . intimately in the last seven years. While the thought of feeling that rush that comes with falling for someone, that feeling of your body craving another, excites me, there’s a lot of fear there too.

“Thank you, Vick. I appreciate that.”

“Can I see you this weekend?”

My mouth quirks into a smile. “I’m babysitting this weekend. Maybe early next week?”

“Monday?”

“Monday works,” I agree.

After we finish our meal, we have one more drink before he walks me out to the parking lot. He opens my car door for me and we both kind of laugh awkwardly. Do we kiss? I’m sure he’s wondering should he kiss me; is it too bold? Me, I’m torn between wanting him to, and not wanting him to. But Vick takes control; he leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth chastely.