An Optimist's Guide to Heartbreak (Heartsong #1)(21)

Any time spent together that goes beyond printing out his sales report at the end of the day, or fetching him his misplaced coffee thermos, feels like an all-expenses-paid trip to Disney World.

I downplay my excitement with a casual, “Sounds great.”

We make our way across the craggy sidewalk of the outdoor strip mall and wind into a burger joint a few stores down. Cal pulls what looks like a grid of chewing gum out of his pocket, plucking one out of the foil and popping it into his mouth. That fruity-mint scent wafts over to me, mingling with something oaky, creating an elixir that is purely Cal.

“You two can sit anywhere you’d like,” a hostess calls out when we amble into the restaurant.

We slide into a booth, sitting across from each other, and Cal hands me a menu. “You good with burgers?” he asks, his eyes dipped to the lunch selections.

I scramble to find something not made of beef and land on a black bean burger. “Yep, all set. I’m a vegetarian, but restaurants are much better about that these days. I can usually find something of the non-meat variety.”

His eyebrows arc. “Really? Do you eat dairy?”

“Yes, because cheese.”

Nodding, he adds, “You used to eat meat.”

It’s such a simple statement. A trivial observation. But it’s also the very first time Cal has offered up the tiniest glimpse into our shared past. I can’t keep the smile from cresting as I lean forward on my arms and nibble my lip. “Your mom loved to make us liverwurst sandwiches for lunch during the summertime,” I reflect, taking note of his micro expressions as he shifts his attention out the window. “We would carry them down to the riverwalk and sit on the dock. I ate them because I felt guilty for throwing away something she made special for us, but you and Emma would always—”

“Feed them to the ducks.”

My eyes cloud over, not expecting him to acknowledge the story. Not expecting him to acknowledge anything to do with her. I bob my head, carefully weaving my words together, scared of pushing him away and breaking our tether. “Yes. And then we’d head back to my house and secretly raid the pantry while my mom was watching her exercise videos in the den.”

The midday glow reflects in his eyes as he stares out through the pane of glass. They glisten with a thousand buried memories. Memories entombed in dirt and soot that I long to dig up and shine new light on. Memories I’m desperate to resurrect.

A waitress saunters over to us then, pulling Cal back into the shadows with a cheery hello. I see the shift, the disconnect, as he clears his throat and straightens, blinking away the simmering nostalgia.

Our tether morphs into a noose, and I choke, slinking back into the booth.

“What can I get for you two?” the waitress chirps, flicking her pen against a notepad.

She glances at me, then turns to Cal and gives him sex-eyes, undoubtedly picturing him naked.

Cal orders a cheeseburger and fries, while I list off my veggie burger with cheddar and extra mustard, and a side of fruit. When she struts away with a hair flip and a flirty sashay of her hips, Dante’s earlier implication regarding Cal’s celibacy burns through my brain. Cal appears unstirred by the lingering balm of the woman’s lavender and chamomile perfume, his eyes hardly sparing her a friendly glance—which is interesting because she was pretty, and her boobs were porn star-level.

Since the mood has already shifted, I decide to veer off in a completely different direction. “So, do you date a lot?”

He looks at me curiously, as if not expecting the question. Folding his hands together, Cal inches forward a bit, his brawny build practically taking up the whole booth.

And when his eyes hold with mine, the gold outshining the smoky brown, it feels like his proximity takes up my whole chest.

Finally, he replies, “Not frequently.”

“Do you sleep around?” I blurt out next.

No!

Why, Lucy? What is wrong with you?

“Less frequently,” he says, the crease between his eyes deepening. “Why are you asking? Is this the Lucy way of telling me you’re interested?”

Heat travels from my neck to my ears, then back down my chest, leaving a trail of random pink blotches in its wake, until it looks like I had a seizure while applying sunscreen. My mouth goes dry as I try to muster something intelligible. “I – I was just curious,” I stammer. “I don’t know much about you anymore. You look like the type of guy who, um—”

“Who, what? Has a harem?”

I’m still flushing profusely, which should be a clear indicator that I need to change the subject, but for some reason, I keep going. And I think that reason is because Cal is talking. He’s actively participating in conversation with me, and I find the notion mildly addicting. “I’m just saying, you look like you do okay for yourself.”

He runs his tongue along his top teeth as he studies me, trying to read between the lines. That’s when I realize I basically admitted, in a roundabout way, that I found him physically attractive.

I imagine myself melting away and dissolving into the floor cracks.

“So, you are interested?” His eyes narrow like he’s genuinely wondering where I’m going with this line of conversation.

The melting thing didn’t work, so I’m stuck answering the question with beet red cheeks and beads of sweat threatening to inhabit my skin. “No! I mean, no. Definitely not.”