One of Those Faces (35)

“How would they see you?” I avoided the eyes of the waitress as she poked her head out the door behind Iann.

He successfully took a sip from the intact side of his mouth. “Oh, um, they’re coming to visit in a few days. I thought I told you.”

“Oh.” I swallowed a mouthful of coffee. My eyes ached with exhaustion.

“For my birthday,” he added.

“Oh,” I said again. “I didn’t know your birthday is coming up.” How could you? You barely know each other. That wasn’t true.

His face reddened slightly. “Yeah . . . I’d love for you to meet them.”

I gagged on my coffee, covering my mouth as I coughed.

“I mean, I’m going to take them to dinner, so you can tag along if you want.”

Oh god, he’s serious. “It seems a little soon for that,” I said, clasping my cup harder.

His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean like that,” he said in a rush. “I meant as a friend. Some of my friends from school and work are going to come. It’ll be a big, friendly dinner.”

I released the breath I’d been holding. That didn’t exactly sound appealing either. “Oh, okay. Yeah, that sounds fun,” I lied.

He looked back at the menu before meeting my gaze again. “Although,” he said with a smile, “I’d like to point out that we’ve been together for almost three months now.”

I narrowed my eyes and calculated it myself. “Hmm, okay, sure,” I conceded with a shrug. But I actually felt . . . pride? I was proud that I could maintain and grow something for once. Maybe there was a small glimmer of hope for me, after all.



We lingered in front of my door. I opened it, but he shifted back on his heels, slightly away from me. “Are you going back home?” I asked, trying not to sound disappointed. I wanted to kiss his broken lips and feel his scar.

He shrugged. “I have a shift at the bar later. I need to get ready for that.”

“You can’t go to work like that.” I gaped.

He grinned. “I thought you said it wasn’t that bad.”

I eyed the tiny stitches along his cheekbone. “No, I said it’s no worse than a hockey player,” I teased. “Do you think the Robey would allow a battered hockey player to come in and serve drinks?”

He laughed. “You’re right. I’ll call in sick.”

“I think you have to. You need to rest anyway. So . . . can you come in?”

He looked at me for a long time. “You’re not repulsed by me?”

I shrugged. “I’m not the Robey. I like your face.” Even like that. Especially like that.

He smiled again and glanced over his shoulder. “Sure, I could use more coffee.”

We didn’t have coffee.

No sooner did the door close behind us than I was devouring his coarse lips, resisting the urge to bite harder on his cut. We entangled and rearranged for hours, breaking away only to steal breaths as needed. His fingers rested on my faded scar, and mine pressed against his fresh one until it made him gasp. I kissed each bruise on his chest and arms until we parted and collapsed.

“Are you okay?” I asked, resting my head on his chest.

“Yeah,” he panted. “Why?”

“How’s your head?” I ran a finger along his jaw, angling to get a better look at the cut around his eye.

“Good.” He pulled me closer into him, his breath rustling through my hair.

I was face to face with his tattoo. I stared at the coordinates etched in ink along his skin under the compass. “So how formal is this dinner going to be?” I asked after a moment.

“Hmm?” He was already starting to drift to sleep. “Oh, um, not at all. I’m going to be showing them around all day, so we’ll all be exhausted and casual by then.”

“Where are you taking them? To eat that night?”

His eyes were closed. “I was thinking Harry Caray’s. The one on Kinzie Street.”

A steak house. That was formal. “How many sisters do you have again?”

“Two,” he said quietly. “But only Rose is coming this time.”

“She’s the one with the kids?”

He nodded softly. “Yeah, she’s bringing them with her.”

Eating with kids at a restaurant was a nightmare. Especially a steak house like that. I’d only been once with Erin, and it was a bit too “touristy” for her, so we never went back.

I looked at his tattoo again. Who had earned that memorial on his body?

He hadn’t pushed me when I’d evaded certain questions about my family. I wouldn’t push him either.

His body relaxed as he sank deeper into his pillow.

I lay awake, my body curved against Iann’s as his breathing deepened each second. His body was guarded even in sleep, tensed against some imperceptible antagonist, his brow furrowed. My phone buzzed against the nightstand. I pulled my blanket up to my neck as I reached for it.

Danny (11:01 p.m.): It was good to see you.

I had sent a quick text to the number on his business card with my contact when I’d returned home after seeing him at the Robey. I glanced at Iann as his head rolled onto one side of the pillow, his eyes still shut tightly. Something anchored deep into my stomach.