A Slip of the Hand

Chapter 53

My fingers skate in the condensation that drips down the outside of my iced brown sugar latte as I sit in the shaded courtyard of my now favorite cafe. I take a shaky breath and glance at the arched entrance to the courtyard for the tenth time in as many minutes.

What am I even doing?

If Ellie hadn't worked me up, I wouldn't be quite so panicked. But she planted the seeds, and now fear and doubts about Daniel spread through me like a weed.

Am I naive to believe that he's serious about wanting this to work and mature enough to understand what he can handle? It's been too much for him before. Why do I think he won't walk away again?

The smell of freshly brewed espresso fills the air, accompanying the sound of the generic indie playlist that drifts from the cafe. The rich sweetness of my drink provides some comfort, but nothing can ease the knot in my stomach.

I force my eyes to trace the pattern of the tiled floor, the blue and white diamonds situated in a random but somehow symmetrical arrangement. It's almost hypnotic and provides a distraction from the entrance.

I notice a shadow, and I lift my eyes to see Daniel. His mouth curves into a cautious smile.

"Hey," he says as he approaches my table.

"Fuck," I utter so softly it's little more than a puff of breath, my mouth barely forming the word. I can't deny how much I've missed him, and it only makes this conversation more intimidating. I force a smile onto my lips as pressure builds inside me, a volcano of emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.

The metal legs of the chair across from me scrape across the tiles as he slides into it, and I'm hyper aware of his knee brushing against mine beneath the small table.

The soft breeze blows a hint of his peppery, musky scent toward me. It takes me back to the last time we were together, when I didn't know if I would ever smell that smell again. I guess nothing's changed there.

My fingers tangle themselves in a napkin, trying to find something to focus on other than the adrenaline churning in my stomach or my heart pounding in my chest. "T-thanks for coming."

"Of course. What's up?" His voice is soft and patient.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I fight to keep them from spilling.

Daniel must see me struggling because his warm hand finds mine across the table. "It's okay. It'll be okay."

I force myself to meet his gaze. "Things have gotten complicated, and... we can't do this. Today. To Oliver." The thoughts stagger out in a jumble, and I play my words back in my head, trying to decide if they made sense.

"If you need time to figure things out, I respect that," he says, studying me quietly. There's an unmistakable tension in his face, and the sparkle is missing from his eyes. It's the look of disappointment.

"I know what I want," I say, my voice now steadier. "I've just come to realize I can't keep being selfish."

"And what do you want?" His question doesn't sound like a challenge, but an honest desire for understanding.

"I want to end things with Oliver without him shelving the album. And I want you without imploding your friendships." Emotion continues to sting the back of my eyes, yet I'm determined not to break. "But I don't think I can get what I want," I add softly, wiping away a tear that manages to escape. "So what do we do?"

We sit there for a moment as he strokes my hand with his thumb.

"If you're not ready, it doesn't have to be today," he says finally. "But I can't continue this if you keep seeing Oliver."

"I'm ending it with him today. But I'm scared to tell him about you—us. Only because of the album."

Daniel's face softens. It's an almost imperceptible difference, but I've spent too much time staring at his face to not notice. He takes a slow breath and sighs. "It's a lot, isn't it? It's not something that's going to be untangled in a day." He squeezes my hand gently, his eyes locked on mine. "I'm okay with taking this one step at a time."

"And what happens to us?"

"One step at a time," he repeats as he moves his chair directly next to me and pulls me into his solid arms. "I'm not in a rush to figure this out."

A deep sigh escapes me, feeling home again in his embrace. "I guess I'm just scared that after all of this goes down, you'll end up disappointed," I admit. "What if you realize I'm not worth the mess?"

"Oh well," Daniel says, and the lightness of his voice wrenches me out of my thought spiral. His lips slide into a grin as he pulls back to look into my eyes. "I want to see what tomorrow brings with you, Madison, whatever that ends up being. I'm here for that opportunity."

The tightness in my chest loosens just enough to let my heart dare, at least for the moment, to let myself believe him. To believe in this.

His face grows closer. I'm not sure if I'm moving or he is; maybe it's the magnetic pull that's drawn us together from the start. My heart hammers against my chest as if it's trying to break free of its cage and join with his. I want nothing more than to close the gap between us, to lose myself in his embrace and forget the world at large.

But I can't—not yet. We can't expect to untangle our situation if we keep skipping ahead.

I let out a shuddering breath as I sink back into my chair.

His lips part as if he's about to say something, but no words come out.

I lean against his shoulder, and it becomes hard to track time as he holds me. It could be seconds. It could be minutes. All I know is that here, nestled into his strong body, I feel less afraid.

"I think it's almost time," Daniel says, his soft words breaking the contemplative silence.

I pull back to check my phone: 1:25 pm. Shit.

I nod slowly, wishing despite it all that he were coming with me.

He groans, leaning his head against mine. "I should probably go before it gets even harder. Will you be okay if I do?" His voice is low, barely above a whisper.

I breathe him in: his scent, his warmth.

"Madison?" he prompts when the silence drags on, and his lips brush against my cheek in a soft kiss.

Pulling away, my eyes meet his as I nod. "I'll be okay."

"Promise?"

"Promise," I agree, our eyes meeting once more. Maybe it's premature given what I'm about to go do, but as I look into his eyes, I can't help but feel things are different now. I'm finally certain that he's really in this with me.

I can't resist kissing him any longer, and neither can he. Our lips meet, careful yet tender. This isn't a kiss goodbye—it's only until next time.

With a final lingering touch, he leaves.