“You could hold my hand without touching me,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “You’re holding it right now.”
He stared off into the distance, jaw flexing. Trying to downplay and not pulling it off in the slightest. “Blueberry waffles, is it? I would have guessed something more practical, like a cheddar cheese omelet and wheat toast.” When their gazes reconnected, the gravity behind Austin’s knocked her back a step. “I need to eat waffles with you, Polly. I need to know that we have breakfast in our future—normal things that make you happy—or my next breath doesn’t mean shit.”
“We’ll have breakfast.” She took a step closer, and Austin met her halfway. “But never having normal will be what makes us happy.”
He leaned down to growl against her mouth. “I’m going to fuck you senseless at the first opportunity, you realize.”
Halfway through his declaration, the door swung open to reveal her father, whose smile didn’t waver, even though Polly suspected he’d heard far too much. “Coffee, anyone?”
Austin put a respectable distance between them, looking sheepish for the first time since Polly had met him. “Tea, actually.” He reached into his pants pocket and drew out a fistful of her favorite tea bags, handing them to her confused father.
“That was your doing back at the café?” her father asked.
“Indeed.” Polly could see the moment he decided not to act the part of doting boyfriend—although she knew he definitely had a seamless golden boy act in him—and decided to be real. Be Austin. “I had to find a way to make her need me. She doesn’t need anyone or anything…and I worked with what I had. Because I need her. And so I bought a fuck-ton of tea bags and I’ll dole them out when I feel like it. Until I’m sure she’ll come back to me with or without them. You’ll both need to employ patience.”
Her father split a wary, but slightly bemused, look between them. “Shall we have that tea now?”
Polly laughed and slipped inside, waving at Austin to follow. When she reached the kitchen, she turned to watch Austin venture into the homey condo the way an art expert walks through a museum. Cataloging the nuances of each family picture, making deductions based on her father’s decor choices. She was more eager than ever to pick his brain, to find out how it worked without the biased windshield through which she’d viewed it before.
“This isn’t the place where Polly lived when she was younger,” Austin said conversationally, straightening his right sleeve with a tug of the wrist.
When he didn’t continue, her father quirked an eyebrow in her direction and went to light a fire beneath the kettle. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“It’s impractical for a young child. Ground floor with no gate between the front door and the pool.” Austin shivered. “Can I assist you with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it.”
Austin slid onto the stool beside Polly. “Am I to see school pictures of Polly with missing teeth? Or a ballet recital video? I’d be satisfied with either.”
Polly had the simultaneous urge to punch Austin in the shoulder and hug him tight. His lord of the manor behavior might be irritating on the surface, but it meant he wasn’t hiding. And that made it wonderful. “You’ll see nothing of the sort. I was born with all my adult teeth and the battery died on the camcorder. Every single time.”
“Now. That’s not entirely true,” her father turned from the stove to say. Gone was his affable expression, replaced with one that said business time. It was so unexpected that even Austin gave a low whistle that was cut off when her father continued. “But you have to earn the right to see those things, and you’ve got a long way to go. I’m not a man who judges others without getting to know them, mind you, but I think you know that you’re a special case.”
Austin nodded, his confidence visibly slipping just a touch. “I do know that. Please feel free to ask me anything you wish.”
Her father blew out a breath. “Well. I’ll have to make a list, won’t I?” He lifted the tea bags to his nose and smelled them. “Since I want Polly to come back without an extended hiatus next time, I’ll only ask one question and save the rest until then.”
“Please,” Austin prompted, folding his hands on the breakfast bar.