The First Taste(115)

Andrew’s nostrils flare with an inhale. “Fuck, Amelia. He restrained you? Thank God I showed up when I did.”

“But I remembered when you and I worked through that fear,” I tell him, “and the thing is . . . I was able to calm down. I think that confused him. He thought I’d be more afraid.”

A spark flashes in his eyes, as if he’s trying not to react. He studies me until his breathing evens out. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If anything, you saved me before you even showed up.”

He pulls me to him by my neck and kisses my cheek. He smells like a blend of light sweat and soap, as if he were mid-shower when he’d suddenly decided to hurry to my apartment. “Let’s go inside,” he says. “I could stay here and kiss you until the sun comes up, but . . .” He glances toward the house. “If Bell heard the bike, she might come to the window thinking I’m home. And I don’t want her to see us like this. Not until I have a chance to talk to her about it.”

I step back quickly. “Of course. I should’ve thought of that.”

“It’s fine,” he says, holding out his hand for mine. “I’m going to talk to her. I want her to understand.”

I let him lead me up the sidewalk. “I’d just like to point out that we have her permission,” I tease. “She sang us the k-i-s-s-i-n-g song, after all.”

He smirks. “She doesn’t have a clue what she means. She kept talking about kissing, and it was pissing me off.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because she’s too young for that.”

I twist my lips. I’m not so old that I can’t remember being a young girl, curious about sex. I don’t remember thinking about it at her age, but Bell has been through a lot for her seven years. Not having a mother around might be confusing for her, especially if she’s picked up on the other moms or teachers trying to get to Andrew through her. “Maybe she’s just confused, Andrew. I don’t think punishing her would help.”

“It doesn’t. And you’re right, she’s confused as hell. It’s been a weird week of trying to work through it.” He glances back. “Look at you with your maternal instincts.”

To my surprise, I blush a little. I don’t admit to being insecure about much, but motherhood is intimidating to say the least. The fact that I’m open to even wanting it speaks volumes.

“I had to have a talk with her the other night,” he says, releasing my hand to unlock the door. “We got into stuff I’d been avoiding. It was beginning to feel—well, unavoidable.”

“Like what?” I ask as he leads me inside.

“Her mom.”

Instinctively, my heart clenches. I know how hard it is for Andrew to talk about Shana with adults—but Bell? At the same time, I can’t fathom what Bell must be thinking. “How did it go?” I ask hesitantly, unsure if he’s open to discussing it.

“It wasn’t easy. But nothing ever is where Shana’s concerned.”

“How’d Bell react?”

He pauses in the entryway and glances down at me, as if he’s debating how to respond. Or if he should. I realize with a painful pang that he doesn’t want to tell me, even after all this. I’ve tried to pry him open before, but I only get so deep before he closes back up. Either he doesn’t trust me, or he’s still trying to preserve some part of himself.

Before either of us can speak, an elderly woman comes out of the kitchen. “Andrew, honey,” she says, “I was worried when I got Pico’s call to bring Bell here. Is everything all right?” Her gaze stops on me.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I had a hell of a night, and I had to run into the city to get Amelia.”

“Ohh,” she says, nodding. She offers her hand with a knowing smile. “The city. Then I guess that would make you the city girl.”

“The city girl . . .?” I take her hand as a slow, uncertain smile spreads across my face. I hope she hasn’t just embarrassed him by mentioning some girl from his past. I am a city girl, but Andrew hasn’t even opened up to Sadie about us. “Um, I’m not—I don’t think he’s talking about—”

“She is,” Andrew says, seemingly amused by my mumbling. “This is her. Amelia, meet Flora. How’d Bell do tonight?”

“Fine, fine.” Flora doesn’t spare Andrew a glance as she puts her other hand over mine. “It is so, so lovely to meet you. We all adore Andrew and want to see him happy.”

Andrew glares at her. “Flora. Maybe you’re jumping the gun a bit?”

She releases me and picks up a sweater off the back of the couch. She places it over her shoulders. “I hope not, dear. I really hope not.”

“I’m staying in the guest room,” I blurt. They both look at me, and my cheeks burn. “It’s just—” I start. “I don’t want you to think . . . with Bell, I’m not trying to—”

Flora chuckles. “Stay wherever you like,” she says. “Personally, I think it’s a waste to dirty two sets of sheets.” She leans in toward me. “If you only knew what I’d give up to spend a night next to a man like this.”

“Oh, God.” Andrew runs both hands through his hair and turns his back to us. “This is not happening.”