“Look at us bantering.” I squeeze his hand and try not to think about where we were the last time we had that conversation.
“It’s about time.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s only been three days.”
“What can I say?” He shrugs. “I’m a banter-holic.”
“You’re ridiculous, is what you are.”
“I know. George confirmed that for us the other day.”
I give him a soft smile. “I missed you, Ponyboy.”
He shoves his now-empty dish to the side and reaches across the table to take my other hand in his. “I missed you, too, Glinda.” He searches my eyes. “Can we do this? Are we really going to try to make this work again? You want that?”
I nod as tears prick behind my eyes. “I want to try.” I look down at our joined hands and then back up at him. “I know you didn’t intend to kiss Tammy and you would never knowingly hurt me like that. However, that doesn’t mean I’m certain I can move past it or fully trust you to not do something like it again. But I’m not willing to give up on us. I want to try to move forward with you from here, but it might take me some time.”
He lets go of one of my hands and wipes away the lone tear that trailed down my cheek. “I’ll give you all the time you need. If at any point I do or say something that’s moving too fast for you, let me know, and I’ll back off. Okay?”
“Okay.” I hope I don’t need to—or want to.
Then I take a deep breath and psych myself up to bring up something I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about, but I can’t do that any longer. “There’s also something I need to tell you.”
His thumb sweeps over the back of my hand. “You can tell me anything.”
“There’s this guy I used to spend some time with at my old job.”
Randall’s jaw clenches. “What about this guy?”
“I saw him Friday night.”
“What? I thought you were with Leslie and her aunt!”
“I was.” I squeeze his hand. “Keep your voice down. I ran into him at the bar we were at.”
“What did he do to you?” he demands. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Well, not physically, and not Friday night.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“He’s one of the guys I used to kind of date but who didn’t want more than a physical relationship. And when I saw him again, I didn’t hate it. And when he touched me, I didn’t hate that, either.”
Randall’s nostrils flare. “He touched you?”
“He put his hand on my shoulder. And then Leslie told him I had a boyfriend, and he stopped touching me and went away.”
“Okay.” He shakes his head. “I still don’t get why you’re telling me this.”
“Because I should have told him I have a boyfriend. I should have told him not to touch me. But I didn’t.” I look down at our entwined hands. “I’d been drinking. If Leslie and her family hadn’t been there, I might have ended up doing what you did.”
“Oh, babe,” he says, the term of endearment slicing through my heart. “No, you wouldn’t have.”
I glance back up at him. “You don’t know that.”
“Did you want him to touch you?”
“No.”
