This Is Us

Chapter 24

He looks down the street before pulling the car out of the spot by the park. There's a bit of a line of course, a mass exodus once the concert ended and the food trucks were all closed up. Chris flips his hand in a wave when someone in a tiny red truck lets him pull out just to sit in a snail's pace line as we try to get to the red light at the main road.

"So, I uh, well, I mean," he stutters, lacking the confidence I'm pretty sure this man normally carries himself with.

"Just spit it out."

"One of the payments, for the photos. I kept track, and you should know I have at least twenty photos."

I turn my head to look at him in disbelief, wide eyed. "Why on earth did you take so many photos?"

"A few reasons, but one was for the sake of longer payments."

Okay, now I'm intrigued. And nervous. "Pray tell what is this well earned, longer payment you speak of, good sir."

He laughs at my antics, right hand coming off the steering wheel to sit on the gear shift for a half a second before it's moving again. The car creeps slowly up a few more feet as his hand comes over to rest on my thigh.

"This okay?" he asks.

But the warmth of his palm and the gentle tickle of his fingertips have my head spinning. It's not that his hand is too high, it's honestly just two inches above my knee. Nor is it too close for comfort. No, it's the fact that outside of my son's small hands, no one has touched my bare legs in years.

While I'm suddenly very aware of this knowledge, and the sensations the small touch is waking up within me, I realize I'm not speaking when Chris goes to withdraw his hand.

"I'm sorry," he says under his breath, the sound of defeat prevalent.

"No!" I shriek, making him jump. "No, it's fine. I mean, if you want to put your hand on my leg, it's fine."

"You looked uncomfortable," he admits, pausing the car to let someone out in front of him.

My head is shaking is a lot faster than I had intended it to. "No, no. I just, um, well." I sigh, another part of me being chipped away, all in order to face my poor dating reality. "I've not been touched, outside of pushed, grabbed, tapped or hit by anyone other than Walker, since Ian."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asks. "Or just a surprise?"

Can I go with surprised without sounding like a loser?

"You just made him seem like a normal, natural, everyday thing for you, I guess," I answer, my voice trails off as I realize that in the same breath I made him sound like he touches women every day.

I cannot win today.

I speak up again before he has a chance. "Is it possible that this really can all be a dream and I'll wake up, all the jitters will be gone thanks to a dream in which I've spilled my guts out, acted stupid and immature all to just have the real date go well without any hiccups or idiocy by one AnnaBelle Claire, who also apparently really loves run on sentences-"

I fall silent, interrupted by Chris' hand once more on my leg, a touch higher this time but still respectable. I jerk my head to look at him and he's already staring back at me with a smirk. "Tell your brain to calm down, Belle."

"If only it were that easy," I mutter, setting my head back on the headrest. My eyes keep drifting down to see his large hand resting against the skin of my lower thigh. As we finally get through the red light his index finger starts tapping against my leg. "Wait. You said longer payment. What do you mean?"

He checks the rearview and side mirror before switching lanes. "The thigh hold was for the second photo. I just figured each one after would be the amount of minutes I could hold onto it for." He passes a glance my way. "Does that work for you? Or do I need to bring your price down to a sale level?"

"Um, I mean, if that's what you want. I suppose I can agree to those terms of the contract. But what about the video?"

He snickers, pulling his hand off my leg for only a moment, slipping his ball cap off and tossing it into the backseat. "I'm gonna hold off on that payment, I think."

I fight the urge to tease him, mostly because it would only lead me to speaking poorly of myself in another way. However I do manage to choke on an attempted swallow as he replaces his hand, once again higher than before.

I can't tell if he's attempting to be daring, pushing me a little further, or if he genuinely just sets his hand down without paying attention. But this time, his hand is half on skin and half on the hem of my romper.

"Tell me about Walker as a baby."

There's a warmth spreading in my chest, loving how he wants to get to know my son. "Lucky for you, he happens to be my favorite subject," I tell him, feeling more comfortable. "He was born with the same color hair he has now. That white blonde that most lose by a certain age. Not him, and those blue eyes. Bright and clear like the ocean. His behavior as an infant was much like many others, I assume. I hadn't been around my brother's kids when they were babies because they lived out of state. He cried, he ate, he slept and filled lots of diapers."

"Sounds like my nephews and niece," he says in agreeance. "Does he favor your baby photos or-"

"My ex," I answer before he finishes. "Ian was born with the same hair color although his changed, as you witnessed today. Oh, you can turn up here. You'll come out on the backside of my street."

Chris grows quiet, following my directions. But I know it's not because he needs to concentrate. "We've been through this once tonight." He flicks his head in my direction. "Ask me whatever you want."

He scratches at his beard as he slows near the stop sign. "You said you split because of Walker and his diagnosis." I nod, although I'm sure it wasn't actually a question but a statement. "Do you think you'd still be together if he didn't have autism?"

I give a low hum, not sure of the answer to give, so I just spit something out. "If Walker was the way his father wanted him to be," I pause, tucking my lips between my teeth for a moment, "he would still be a part of his life. Our marriage, though? That I'm not sure of. I guess it's possible although I'm pretty he would've shown his true colors at some point. Maybe when Walker decided he'd rather play basketball than follow in his father's football cleats. Who knows?"

I expect some form of noise to come from Chris, but there's just a head nod as he's pulling into my driveway. I clear my throat when his hand leaves my thigh to place the car in park. "Cheesecake?"

"If you're still up for it," he says, sounding unsure of himself.

"I'm always up for cheesecake."

"Just not always up for sharing it?" he finally breaks a smile with his teasing.

I push open the door, beginning to climb out, "I know you better now so I feel like I can trust you with my cheesecake habits."

I don't miss the fact that he's watching my ass as I climb out, his body moving slower than my own as he exits the car.

"I don't know whether or not to laugh or be afraid. What do you mean by cheesecake habits?"

I pause on my front steps, glancing over my shoulder. "Come in and find out," I say with my own smug grin before I'm unlocking the door, leaving it cracked for him to follow. He lolly gags by the car for a moment, glancing between the backseat and my house. "I make no promises to wait for you."

Not two seconds later there's heavy footfalls against my steps.