Charming In Handcuffs

Chapter 23: You Owe Me

I sat at one of the tables outside of The Orchid and took in steady breaths. He should be here any minute and I wasn't prepared. I don't think I would ever be prepared, but still. There was a few times I just almost up and left. But that's not going to help me with anything.

            I started chewing on my nails out of habit; something my grandma would smack my hand for. She has done that a few times, so I wouldn't put her past it to do it now. I tucked my hands under my legs and let out another shaky breath. It's going to be fine. I won't throw myself over the table and hurt him if I have to. I'd probably run off crying before I did anything stupid like that.

            I stood up, almost ready to leave again when his voice stops me. I quickly sit back down and he appeared in front of me, "I'm glad you came." He smiled, pulled out the chair across from me, and sat down.

            This was a bad idea. A horrible, dreadful idea.

            My stomach twisted into several knots and my breathing exercise went out the window. "Hi." I nearly squeaked.

            It was different seeing him in the daylight. He looked much older, more his age. His short dark hair had strands of gray scattered throughout. His eyes sparkled in the sunlight, similar to my own. His jaw was strong and he had a sharp nose. I don't see myself in my dad at all. The eye color, yes, but nothing else.

            But I remember him. I remember a brief moment when he took me to the park with a smile on his face. And it's sad because that's the only time I remember him smiling around me.

            "How are you?" He asked and brought me out of my thoughts.

            "I'm okay." I couldn't raise my voice over my soft tone, "How are you doing?"

            "Better now." He smiled, "I have a lot to show you and talk about." The bag he had slung over his shoulder was beside him now. He pulled out a thick photo album and scooted his chair next to mine.

            My breath hitched in my throat.    

            "I have a lot of pictures of your mom in high school." He opened up the album to the first set of pictures, "You look just like her, Juliet."

            I brushed my fingers over the vintage polaroid's of my mom. I did look just like her. The resemblance was almost scary. But she's prettier than I could ever be. She had long hair, just like me. Maybe a few shades lighter, but she had unruly waves just like I do.

            I looked at her eyes and see that sparkle my grandma was talking about.

            She had smooth, porcelain skin I would die for. Everything about her screamed mom to me. I would do anything to have one day with her. To get to know her like a friend would. I want to know everything about her, and now I don't get that chance and it sucks.

            "You would have loved her." He said, "She loved to read and write, just like you do. You have her personality, too. It's amazing, I think."

            I looked at him, curiosity pinching my eyebrows, "How do you know all that about me? You don't even know me."

            He looked away and flipped to the next page.

            "Have you been stalking me? Spying on me—"

            "No!" He said quickly, snapping his head in my direction, "I would never do that."