Bet on It (25)
“Don’t be ageist, Wally,” his grandmother snapped playfully. “Good food does not have an age limit.”
“Mmhm, if you say so.” He raised his menu in front of his face long enough to shoot a wink at Aja. “I think I’m goin’ to stick with a good old-fashioned smothered pork chop.”
Aja flashed Ms. May an apologetic smile. “And I’m really craving a club sandwich, so…”
Ms. May released a long, deep sigh.
“Maybe next time,” Aja lied, knowing full well that she’d rather spend the rest of her life avoiding Minnie’s Diner altogether than eat that meat loaf.
Their waitress appeared a few moments later, the bright smile on her face dimming some as she took in the people sitting around the table.
“Hey, y’all.” Aja didn’t know her, but the woman spoke with an air of familiarity. She had a name tag attached to her polyester uniform that identified her as “Louise.”
“Hey there, girlie.” Ms. May grinned. “Since when do you work evenings?”
“I’m just fillin’ in for Donna.” Louise tapped her pen against her wrist. “I’m tryin’ to save up for a vacation to LA.”
Ms. May perked up even more. “Have you ever been?”
Aja kept one ear on their conversation, trying to stay alert but barely listening as she turned her attention to Walker.
His expression had turned sour. It may have been subtle to most people, but it was glaringly obvious to her. His mouth was tight, lips pressed together and turned down slightly. Those dark eyes were softly narrowed as they focused on Louise. He looked like he was trying to either hold himself back from saying something unpleasant or from getting up and walking out of the restaurant completely. Aja had never seen him look like this before. So uncomfortable, angry. It had happened so fast too. Seemingly out of nowhere. Had their waitress done something offensive?
Her anxiety tended to make her hypervigilant, especially when it came to other people’s actions. It was rare that she missed the little tics or micro expressions they tried to hide. Misinterpreted them? Yes, often. But she rarely ever missed them. She was sure that if Louise had done or said something shady, she would have caught it. But she hadn’t. So why the hell did Walker look so disgusted about being in her presence?
“Are you OK?” She moved her face closer to his so she could keep her voice down low.
“Huh?” He startled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
His words were as tight as his jaw, and she looked down to see his fist clenched against his thigh.
“You look”—Aja tried to be delicate in her wording—“upset.”
The muscles in his face flexed as his jaw ground even harder. “I’m all right.”
It was clear he wasn’t, but it was also obvious he wasn’t interested in talking about it. That, she understood. So she let it go, but the overwhelming need to comfort him still sat on her heart. There was very little she could do with so many people around, in such a tight space, with the limitations they already had thanks to the nature of their relationship. Had things been different, she might have kissed him or stroked her hand softly along his jaw to show him that she was there for him. Two things that were wholly inappropriate in their current reality. She did the only thing she could think to do. She put her hand on his, right over the fist he had balled up on his leg.
She ran her thumb over his knuckles, feeling the skin stretched tightly over the bones. She folded her fingers around his hand for a few seconds. Then, when her fingers unflexed, his started to as well. The movements were slow, but piece by piece his fist fell away until his hand was palm down on his leg with hers on top.
He caught her gaze; his eyes were still dark and clouded, but his appreciation was as clear as a summer sky. When his shoulders loosened, she smiled. There was an awkward moment where she realized that she didn’t know how long it would be appropriate to keep her hand on his. Now that he seemed less troubled, should she move it? She liked the feeling of his skin on hers, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or for him to think she was trying to take advantage of his compromised state in some way.
The second she went to pull her hand away Walker turned his over. His palm was warm and dry as it met hers, and she barely had time to register the action before he was linking their fingers together. Her heart sputtered in her chest. She felt like she was floating in the middle of the ocean, her body weightless and lazy, being carried along by something more powerful than herself.
It was then that she became sure Walker Abbott was going to kill her.
It would be accidental, but she was positive that her heart would give out completely if he kept making it thump and soar like it was. She didn’t think he was doing it on purpose, which made him even more deadly.
She didn’t get a chance to say anything to him—not that she knew what to say—before Louise and Ms. May finished their conversation and the waitress left with their orders.
Dinner was relatively quiet. No one else in the restaurant made an effort to keep their conversations hushed, but their table was content with stilted pleasantries and small talk as they enjoyed their respective meals. Underneath the table, Walker’s hand stayed clasped in hers. This made it difficult to eat and drink, but she pulled through, as unwilling to lose the comfort of his touch as he seemed to be of hers.