Page 21 of One Little Favor
This news is such a shock that I actually pull my hand out of his. “Ihaven’tnoticed, actually. What should the indicators have been?”
“Well,” he draws out the word, “possibly the way I couldn’t stop looking at you whenever we were in the same room. The way I had to cut our conversations off before they got too personal, because I thought you were dating someone else. The way I have every single one of your coffee cups memorized, and know what kind of a day you’re having by which cup you’ve chosen.”
“Hmm,” I say as I consider what he’s telling me. “So you’re saying that while I’ve been obsessing over you this whole time, the feeling has been mutual?”
He nods, and the look on his face is hungry—possessive, even. He looks like he wants to devour me, and in response, the muscles in my core and abdomen clench up so that my entire body moves like a shiver has run through me. Tom smirks, like he knows exactly what his look has done to me. He probably does, and it makes me wonder if he’s known about my attraction to him all along.
After we order, Tom asks, “Did your parents get on their cruise okay today?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, thinking back to my call with my mom while I was getting ready for dinner. “They got down to Miami this morning and their ship set sail this afternoon.”
His dark eyes rake over my face, and I look away. I don’t want him to see how much the thought of spending the holidays alone bothers me. Every single friend of mine is either out of town for the holiday or has plans with family. And with Christmas being my favorite holiday, I’m trying to look on the bright side of this situation and I’m still unable to see it. Except, maybe, that it has given me this time with Tom.
“Hey.” I feel his fingers on my knee beneath the table. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, because I’m out on a fantastic date and I’m absolutely not going to mope about Christmas.
“It’s okay to miss them, you know.”
“It’s not even that,” I admit. “I’m happy for them that they get to have this experience. But we have all these holiday traditions and I was really looking forward to them. I’m—I’m just trying not to think about what Christmas Eve and Christmas will be like on my own.”
He squeezes my knee and I look up at him. He’s intently focused on me. “You won’t be alone.”
I raise an eyebrow at the thought of spending Christmas with him. “You don’t already have plans?”
“Not really. Alex invited me to his family’s Christmas Eve party that his brother hosts, but if the alternative is spending time with you, I’m out.”
“I love the way you just casually drop the fact that Alex Ivanov,” I say, referencing the NHL star who is also one of Tom’s clients and close friends, “invited you to spend Christmas Eve with his family.”
“It’s just a small get together. His brother, Niko, lives in the same building as he does and is just as private. Niko and his wife have a six-year-old daughter who is adorable. We can stop by together for a while, if you want.”
“I do love kids,” I say. “I could be convinced to go for a bit, as long as I get you to myself afterward.”
“After tomorrow, we’re both on vacation for the rest of the week. We’ll make sure there’s plenty of together time.” He pauses, then adds, “Unless you want alone time. That can be arranged too.”
I look away because I’m not sure how to respond. I do love my alone time. I love my little 350-square-foot apartment. I love coming home at the end of a long day, putting on some music, and relaxing by myself. I also love the idea of spending every spare moment with Tom. A week with no plans feels like an endless amount of time stretched before us, and we have a lot of lost time to catch up on. We haven’t even had sex yet and I’m already imagining how deliciously sore I’ll be every morning.
I look back at him. “I’m pretty sure I can forgo alone time this week if it means I get to spend that time with you instead.”
We sit there grinning at each other like two complete idiots. I can count on one finger the number of times I’ve seen Tom with a full-blown smile. I had no idea he had dimples in both cheeks, and it’s such a boyish and disarming look on him.
I’m pretty sure hearts are flying out of my eyes when I tell him, “You should do that more.”
“Do what more?” he asks, bringing his Manhattan back up to his lips.
“Smile.”
“It’s not my natural state,” he says, taking a sip. “You must bring it out in me.”
“We’re so pathetic right now.” I laugh.
“I’m okay with that.” He holds out his glass, so I reach for mine. “To being pathetic,” he says as we clink our glasses together.
It makes me wonder if my parents are toasting each other on their first night away. When I mention that to Tom, he says, “I hope so. They sound like they’re still very much in love.”
I read right between those lines, assuming he’s saying that he’s not sure his own parents are. Or maybe he knows they aren’t? They sound like the kind of people who got married and stayed married for the sake of the image they created together.
“They are,” I tell him. “I wish I could see them on Christmas. Maybe we can hop on a video call or something. I assume the cruise ship has Wi-Fi.”
