I turned back to the TV and took a big bite of pizza. Why did he make me so nervous tonight? Why did his words feel so ominous?
He picked one of our shows to watch, one that we were super far behind in since we’d spent so many months not watching it and we dug into our pizza.
We didn’t talk much as the show went on, just mostly ate in silence.
At some point I realized he didn’t have a date with someone else tonight. My insane jealous was for nothing. I decided to ignore the intense relief that flooded my body from head to toe.
I tried to tamp my relief by reminding myself that he would eventually start dating.
I would have to face it eventually.
Eventually.
But not tonight.
“Another one?” he asked as that show ended and he grabbed another piece of pizza.
“Sure,” I whispered.
Late evening turned into night as we spent another hour quiet and involved in our show. Occasionally he would make a comment or I would gasp in surprise, but mostly our interaction dealt with the pizza that was slowly disappearing in front of us.
After another show, he paused the TV to use the restroom and grab another beer. When he came back into the room, he flicked the lights off and settled in the middle of the couch without asking permission or checking to see if it was okay.
I didn’t know why, but I didn’t object or even make a comment.
After the next episode had ended, he said, “You know, if you’re not watching this without me, we should probably watch another one. Just in case, we don’t get to find out what happens.”
“That’s a good point,” I conceded.
He turned his head toward me and captured my gaze. For a minute, we just stared at each other. Nothing was said. Nothing was thought. I wasn’t even sure I took a breath.
I wasn’t sure I could have taken a breath if I tried.
He leaned over, bringing his body closer to mine. We had somehow managed to scoot closer and closer during the night. Now, I could feel the warmth of his body. Sometimes if he moved, his leg would press into mine for just a brief moment or his elbow would graze my arm.
I could smell him again.
And it was intoxicating.
I licked my dry lips and tried to find sanity… rationalization. I tried to remember our divorce or what had led up to it. I tried to argue my way out of this craziness I’d walked into willingly.
“Kate,” he whispered and his voice went straight to my heart, straight to my core.
Afraid of this moment, of our truce, of every single thing about him, I turned back to the TV and gave it my attention. Or at least pretended to.
I couldn’t see anything in front of me or comprehend what was going on. But I couldn’t face whatever it was that Nick wanted to say. I couldn’t stare at him for a second longer and not lose myself completely.
He seemed to realize that I had shut down because he turned back to the show without another word.
In fact, we didn’t speak to each other again for the rest of the night.
I had been planning to ask him to leave after the next show, but there was a cliffhanger and I was desperate to find out what happened. The show kept going and going, we hadn’t watched it all summer and there were plenty of episodes to catch up on. Finally, I could focus on what was happening and not the man sitting next to me that I couldn’t untangle myself from.
But my mind was never far from him.
And apparently my body wasn’t either.
I must have fallen asleep at some point because one second I had been blinking slowly, trying to stay involved with the plot, the next I felt fingers threading through my hair, brushing gently behind my ear.
I inhaled a deep sigh at the caress, the luxurious feeling of being touched after not being touched for so long. Then I realized those fingers belonged to Nick. I realized I had stretched out on the couch and laid my head in his lap. I realized his other hand had settled on my waist and slipped beneath my shirt to press against the curve of my side.