Back to You(14)

It took Lauren a second to realize he thought she was taken aback because his hands were dirty.
“No, no, I wasn’t—” but she stopped short, because what could she say? I wasn’t looking at your hands because they were dirty; I was just trying to look anywhere but your face?
“I work as a tin knocker,” he said, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “I can’t ever get them clean.”
She had to get out of there.
“Well, Erin was great today,” she said, tossing her bag over her shoulder and taking a step toward the door. “I’ll keep you updated on her progress.”
“Oh…okay,” he said, stepping to the side to let her pass. “Um, okay, great. Thanks.”
“Yep. Have a good afternoon,” she said with a smile, rushing past him and out the door.
By the time she got to her car, her hands were shaking so badly that she struggled with starting it.
Her plan was to keep it about Erin, to speak to him like he was just another parent, but as he continued talking to her, she could feel the questions forming on the tip of her tongue. What’s a tin knocker? Do you like your job? Where have you been for the past eight years?
None of that was about Erin.
And so she ran. She would not allow herself to speak to him on a personal level.
But as she pulled out of the parking lot, she couldn’t help but ask herself if she was overreacting. Shouldn’t it be okay to want to hear about someone who had once been important to her? After all, they had been inseparable throughout most of high school, albeit the most unlikely pair: the school badass and Little Miss Straight-laced, best friends. It was true things hadn’t ended well, but that was years ago. It would be harmless to catch up with an old friend.
No. She had to remember who she was talking about.
Nothing about Michael Delaney was harmless. She had learned
“You get selective amnesia when it comes to Del,” she could hear Jenn say.
But not this time.
It had been different in high school. She was a kid. But she was a grown woman now, and she knew better. Lauren realized it was quite possible that he had changed too, just as she had, that he would no longer make the same mistakes he did back then.
But she knew she would never risk herself long enough to find out.

As Michael Delaney tucked his daughter into bed, his mind was a million miles away.
“Good night, baby girl,” he said against her forehead before he kissed her there, and she reached up and hugged him around the neck the way she always did.
“Daddy?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sad tonight?”
She was so observant. He should have expected her to pick up on his behavior.
He pulled back and sat on the side of her bed. “No, I’m not sad,” he said, brushing her hair out of her eyes and pulling her blanket up a bit higher. “I’m just tired.”
“Me too,” she said.
“Well then, we both better get some sleep,” he said, standing from her bed.
“Okay. Connor asked me to color with him today and I said yes.”
Michael stopped on the way out of her room, trying to remember that they were only three.
He turned in her doorway. “You know,” he said, “if Connor wants to take you out on a date, he has to ask me first.”
“Daddy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We’re too little.”
Michael grinned. “Sorry,” he said, blowing her a kiss. “Night.”
“Good night,” she murmured, rolling over and pulling her stuffed cat against her.
He stood in her doorway for a minute, watching the rise and fall of her chest under the covers before he gently closed her door.
And then he went and sat at the kitchen table, clasping his hands in front of his mouth as he stared blankly off into space.
Lauren. He couldn’t stop thinking of her.
She had always been pretty, but now there was a maturity, a confidence, a womanly quality to her that made her that much more beautiful.
She still had that dark red hair, those impossibly long eyelashes, and those eyes. Forest green. But they could turn dark with protectiveness, or desire.
Or pain.
He had caused all three in her.
Michael sat back in his chair as he ran his hand through his hair and exhaled, wondering if she’d forgiven him. It would be typical of her if she had.
But he didn’t even know if he wanted her forgiveness.
She had been civil today, but not amiable.
Professional.
That openness, that innocence, the unfailing and unconditional acceptance she had always shown him, despite what he was, was gone.
She was the only one who had ever given him that, and he’d destroyed it. Consciously.