Delilah's Tears

Chapter Thirteen

James

When I open the door, Delilah glances up from the note I left her on the counter. She looks terrible. I feel terrible. The awkwardness in the air is off the charts. Neither of us moves for so many seconds that it may as well be hours. How do I fix this tension between us that I created?

"Delilah." I rarely call her by her full name, so when I do, her whole body stiffens as if she's afraid of being attacked. "D-doll, c'mere." I extend a hand, and she stares at it like it's a viper. Huh. I'm a viper all right. A snake in the grass. Wiggling my fingers, I encourage her to come to me. Her eyes close and she exhales, moving slowly, cautiously toward me. This sucks. Completely. Delilah bypasses me without touching and sits on the very edge of the sofa, refusing to meet my eye. Hell no. We're not doing this. When I sit next to her, her body goes rigid once again. "Babe."

She clears her throat. "Don't call me that. Please." Her soft hands curl into small fists that rest on her thighs.

"D-doll, I am so sorry about the other night."

She clears her throat again, as if talking to me is torture. That, in itself is torture. "Don't be. You were right. About all of it." A pair of sad eyes finally peer up at me, tears pooling, which crushes my heart into dust. "I hope your...date was good."

Aw, fuck.

"Baby, I didn't..." The lie is on the tip of my tongue, but she interrupts, jumping to her feet.

"Don't. You had a date. You aren't a monk, James." Delilah stands, her sadness now turned to anger. "You've been in the military. You need to get laid. I get it. Just don't bring them here. Like you said. Get a place of your own. Then you can hook-up with the whole city if you want to. I don't care." Her lower lip trembles, and the tears are threatening again. Where is this coming from? Is she jealous? "Please, don't parade them in front of me. I couldn't stand it. Okay?"

"What's going on Delilah?" I grip her hand and tug her back onto the sofa. "I'm still gonna be here for you."

"I don't know," she whispers, gripping her shirt over her heart. "Everything hurts."

"I feel it too. I'll find a place. It'll make things easier, but I won't leave you alone. I'll be here so much you'll beg me to go away." My finger sweeps under her eye, wiping away a tear that's trickled. She nods.

"You're right. I'll hate it, but you're right."

"I did have a date. It didn't go well. I won't be seeing her again." Her face pales. No sense in telling her why it sucked. "I'm not sure I'm ready to date right now." No sense in telling her why dating is bad idea, either. Her body relaxes again.

I pull Delilah against me, resting her against my chest. It takes a moment, but soon her arms creep around my body in a hug. Burying my face on the top of her head, I stroke her hair. We stay like this for a long time.

"I love you, Delilah." God, if she only knew what I truly meant by that.

"I love you, too, James." If only she meant the same thing.

****

By the end of the next week, things are mostly back to normal. Delilah even checks out a few apartments with me. Work is keeping both of us busy, and because of my weird schedule we don't run into each other until around eight or so most nights. I called Jana and explained that while I had a nice—there's that word again—time with her, I wasn't ready to date anyone. I don't think she believed me, but she thanked me not leaving her hanging. She probably suspected there wouldn't be anymore dates.

Yesterday I signed a lease on an apartment a block away. I couldn't bear to be any further from Delilah. I have to break the news to her. I'm sipping coffee and reading the Sunday paper online when she pads into the kitchen.