“Come eat.” He holds his arm to the side like he’s ushering me toward the couch. “You like beer?”
“Only with pizza.” I grin at him and he tilts his head back in a laugh. The perfect cutting edge of his jaw and its masculine strength makes my heart skip a beat or two. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” He waits until I’ve found my place before sitting down on the couch next to me. He’s not pushy or demanding. What a contrast to James and his treatment of me. One man makes me feel safe and secure, while the other scares me with his demands.
Sin inhales over half the pizza in silence as I nibble on a couple slices. I observe the demolition in amazement and raise a brow at him when he glances at me after coming up for air. Finally, he sets his plate down and wipes his face with a napkin.
“You’re very serious about your pizza,” I tease.
“It’s a New York thing. We are the world’s biggest connoisseurs of the pie.” He winks. “Years of ordering and eating the greasy stuff has left me a pizza snob, though.”
“How did this one stack up to what you have in the city?” Turning my body toward him on the couch, I tuck my legs under me, lean against the back, and wait for his review.
“Not bad.” Wayward thoughts come to mind as Sin sits back on the couch and rubs his stomach in satisfaction. I wonder how those muscles would feel under my fingers, or how his bare skin would feel to my touch. I glance back up at his face and return to safer territory, but it’s not much help. He has a smirk that could disarm Mother Teresa and my stomach flutters in a way that has nothing to do with the food I ate. It’s all him. His sweetness and closeness are dangerous to my sanity.
“Glad the lowly pizza of Rochester measures up to your standards, pizza snob.”
“It’s a good find, I have to admit.” He acts like he won the pizza lottery and I roll my eyes at him.
“Rolling your eyes, huh?” His face turns somber and I freeze. He reaches out for my arm and I flinch without a thought as to why.
“Harlow, I was kidding.” Worry is written all over his face. “You’re allowed to roll your eyes, you know that?”
“He doesn’t like that,” I sigh, knowing the fun teasing between us has come to a halt.
“Why does he not like that?” The way Sin says “he” makes a chill run across my skin.
“It’s just the way our relationship has worked.” The words coming out of my mouth sound messed up, even to me.
“I can’t hide my feelings from you, and I don’t want to.”
“What do you mean?”
He takes my shaky hand and holds it gently. Every touch from him tonight has been soft and kind, something I’ve missed experiencing since my mother died. The thought of her and what I’ve missed makes my heart ache. I’m a complete mess with my thoughts and feelings jumping all over the place.
“James may be my uncle, but there’s no loyalty that can excuse how I see him treating you. He’s killing the very best part of you—your potential. Can you tell me this is what you’d hoped for in life?”
I peer into his concerned eyes, where a sense of security dwells. They’re like a golden oasis for me, and the world I have come to know with James becomes even more cloudy and distorted.
“I’m so confused.”
“About what? Being with him? Marrying him?” Sin asks. The questions aren’t easy for me to answer because I’m not sure where to begin.
“Today I saw an old friend of my mother’s when I went to meet with Emma. They both want me to think about James and the wedding.” I can’t believe the details of my life pouring out of me today with Sin. I’ve always kept my thoughts and feelings to myself, carried them around with me as part of living, but maybe that’s the problem. Keeping them bottled up isn’t working either. “Then I went to my mother’s grave for the first time since she was killed.”
“Whoa,” Sin says, holding my hand a little tighter. “Last night you said she passed away. She was killed?” I nod.
“How long ago was that?” he whispers.
“On my birthday. Almost four months ago.” I glance down at our interlocked hands and break the connection as tears threaten. I’ve cried more tonight than I did at her funeral. But being numb from the drugs James gave me squelched my tears. “She was killed the day I met James.”
“Before or after you met him?” Sin asks, and our eyes meet. A million questions fly around in his eyes and I prepare for the inevitable: talking in details. I’ve yet to openly discuss that night with anyone and here I am spilling everything to an almost stranger—one with caring eyes and a heart that warms me with a sense of peace. I shake off any doubt and plunge forward with more details of the ugly night.