The Absence of Olivia(50)

I shrugged. “Sure.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and then released it as he pulled off his backpack. He walked toward the edge of the logs and I followed, understanding that he wanted to be out of the way of the rest of the hikers trying to make their way over the pile.

He straddled a log, sitting with his backpack in front of him and I copied his stance.

“So,” he said, unzipping his backpack and bringing out what I immediately recognized as Subway sandwiches. “I have turkey with American cheese, or roast beef with cheddar. Your choice. And if you don’t like either of those I might dive off this log mountain.”

“I’ll take turkey,” I said through laughter. He handed me a wrapped sandwich, then reached back into his bag and opened his palm toward me.

“Mayo? Mustard?” He had little packets of condiments in his hand, offering them to me.

“You think of everything, don’t you?” I asked, taking a little mayo packet from his hand, noticing the zing that shot through me when our skin touched, but trying not to react to it.

“Listen, I never hold back on a date. I’m here to impress. I had to ask the sandwich artist especially for the to-go packets.”

I laughed even harder as I imagined Nate, the masculine, imposing person he was physically, asking a teenage girl for mayo packets.

“I appreciate it. There’s nothing worse than a dry sandwich.”

“See? I knew you were perfect for me.” His tone was light and playful, but his words made my heart pound in my chest. Partly because it had been years since someone had said anything romantic to me, but more so, because I wanted the words to be true. I wanted to be perfect for someone. I’d spent the majority of my life feeling like the only person who was perfect for me, had already found his perfect match. “You took the mayo and I took the mustard. You’re the yin to my yang.”

I blushed even harder, made speechless by his almost childish yet adorable mushiness. It was quite ridiculous. I’d always told myself I didn’t need flowers and romance, but his condiment comparisons were enough to make my heart skip a beat.

“So, tell me about your life.” He made the request just before he took the first bite of his sandwich, looking at me as if my answer was going to be the most interesting thing he’d ever hear. I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with his swallow and found myself mimicking him, swallowing down the need that grew in my belly with that one stupid yet ridiculously sexy movement on his neck.

“My life?” I finally asked, needing a little more clarification.

“Yeah. You know, what you do for fun, your hobbies, your likes, dislikes, murderous tendencies – anything interesting.”

“I have never murdered anyone,” I said through a laugh.

“See? That’s useful information. Continue.” He took another bite and I looked down at my own sandwich, refusing to watch the man eat a sandwich to satisfy my own twisted attraction.

“For the most part, I’m kind of a hybrid between a single gal in my late twenties and an old cat lady in my late fifties.”

“Do you have many cats?” One of his eyebrows was raised and his sandwich was paused halfway up to his mouth. He looked concerned.

“No,” I giggled. “I actually don’t have any pets. But, I fit the profile. I should have cats. But I’m too busy working, and now taking care of Ruby and Jax, I don’t even have time for a cat, let alone the twenty minimum I’d need to reach cat lady status.”

“Yeah. Ruby and Jax. They seem like great kids. Their mom must have been pretty special.”

I fought past the lump that formed in my throat at his words. “She was the best,” I managed, but my voice was strained and my eyes were down again. Suddenly, I felt Nate’s warm hand on the top of my knee.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said quietly, rubbing his hand gently over my bare skin. “How long ago did she pass?”

“It’s been a few months. But it feels like days or hours.” I let out a loud sigh. “Those kids though, they’re tough. Some days you can’t even tell they’ve lost their mother, which I’m glad for. That’s a blessing. The days when they’re laughing and smiling like nothing ever happened, I live for those days. But then there are days when there aren’t enough tissues in the world to dry their tears.” I paused, trying to push the images of those two kids crying out of my mind. “Ruby’s eight, so she feels the loss more. She knows what she’s missing a little deeper than Jax. But Jax is a little momma’s boy with no momma. Some days, he seems lost and that’s hard.”

I was quiet for a few moments, not really knowing where to take the conversation from there.

“And what about their dad?” Nate’s voice was like velvet draped over hard steel. It was rough, but I could tell he was trying to ease it up. He didn’t like asking the question, but wanted too badly to know the answer to let it be.

I shrugged. “Devon is a man who lost his wife, the mother of his children. He struggles daily, but is trying hard to be the pillar of his family. He’s still trying to figure it all out.”

“Does it bother you to talk about him?”

“No,” I answered immediately and truthfully. I’d much rather talk about him than be with him. Being around Devon was becoming confusing and tiring. Things were tense between us.