Finding Faith (14 page)

When I turned back I said, “Faith, it’s all right. I want this to be a fun night. I’m happy to have another chance, so let’s enjoy it.”

I tipped her chin up, giving her a kiss on the lips with just enough pressure so she was aware she’d gotten one.

We drove to Spiaggia in silence. I could feel her eyes on me. I didn’t know how to react. Whatever I tried seemed to be the wrong thing.

When Faith finally spoke she asked, “Is this the same truck you had when we were dating?”

“No, I wish. I can’t seem to break away from Rams. They remind me of good times,” I said, stealing a look at her, so far away from me. “I don’t bite ya know. You can come closer.” I tapped the empty spot next to me so she would slide over.

“Umm, I think the purple bruise on my neck says otherwise.” She arched a brow and her sexy smile made an appearance again.

“Ok, let me correct myself. I don’t bite when it’s not for pleasure,” I said with a mischievous grin.

Satisfied with that answer she slid over next to me. I wrapped my arm around her back cupping her shoulder.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve sat here. I like it,” I said to her, jetting my chin out in pure joy, giving her a squeeze. I felt her tense up.

“No pressure, Faith, I was just remembering out loud, that’s all. If it would be easier for you to pretend we just met and don’t have all those old memories I can try to do that.”

“No. Those are some of my best memories from back then. I would never want to forget them.”

She caressed my jaw as she leaned up and gave me a kiss, before curling back down perfectly against my body. I held her tighter against me, and when she didn’t complain I stayed that way. I felt like I belonged somewhere for the first time in a long time.

What I couldn’t get past was if she didn’t want to forget about us why didn’t she tell Grace about me? I wasn’t able to ask her because we were pulling up to the valet. I had to unwillingly take my arm away from her. The pit in my stomach that had been given a reprieve on the ride here came back.

When I had made the reservations I asked to be seated in a corner booth. The lighting was dimmed for dinner and there was quiet music drifting throughout the restaurant, setting the mood I was looking for. We were seated side by side, the curve of the booth giving us privacy.

Faith’s phone beeped. “Sorry, Grace has been worried about me lately. I need to check it.”

She pulled the cell out of her purse, reading a text. With a quick reply she tucked her phone away, meeting my eyes.

“Sorry, Grace is having guy trouble.”

Faith started to fidget with her silverware, smoothing out her already smooth linen napkin that was hiding her great legs.

“Faith, is something bothering you? This is supposed to be a fun date not an inquisition.”

“Date? I don’t remember saying anything about this being a date.”

“You didn’t say this was a date, I did.”

“When?”

“Right now.” The small gap we had separating us disappeared as I slid over until my knee rubbed against hers, making her flinch. I chuckled and grabbed the hand that was closest to me.

Bending my head in front of her so she had to look me in the eye I said, “Faith, I’m still the same John you’ve always known. I’ve just got a little more world experience now that’s all. I thought we should get to know each other again.”

I intertwined our fingers as I spoke. Old habits died hard.

“I think we did that the other day don’t you?” she asked, her eyes focused on our hands.

“I considered that more like a friendly handshake for us. I do have some questions I want to ask you.”

She tried to pull her hand away but I held on.

“Did you always have such smokin’ legs? I mean, I remember them being great, but now, WOW,” I opened my eyes wide to emphasize the wow.

Her hand relaxed at the question. “I run now.”

She didn’t get my reference about the handshake. I had joked about that our last night together. What else did she forget? I remember everything.

“You didn’t run when we were together did you? What made you start?” I wanted to learn all the new things about her that I didn’t know.

“It’s free and I love the adrenaline rush it gives me.” She sat back getting more comfortable.

“Whatever the reason don’t stop, they’re fantastic,” I said, putting our clasped hands on my leg. My cock gave an acknowledging twitch at the familiar hand close by. I couldn’t stop rubbing the top of her hand, it was so soft and so close to me. I always loved how delicate her hands were and how perfectly they fit in mine.

With my free hand, I took a strand of her hair, twirling it around my index finger. “This hair threw me off, too.” Leaning in close to her ear I whispered, “But my cock wasn’t tricked.”

When she looked at me questioningly I let the strand slip through my fingers. “You didn’t have auburn hair back then, it was black.”

Obviously flustered she said, “Oh, I started dyeing it. Do you like it?”

I smiled. I enjoyed that she asked me if I liked it. I like anything that has to do with her.

“Faith, your hair could be the color of the rainbow and I’d love it.”

“How did you end up out here?” Faith asked, ignoring my sentiment.

The waiter came just in time with wine, giving me time to think if I wanted to tell her the real reason, part of it or make up a lie.

The last option wasn’t really one because I could never lie to her. I didn’t plan on talking about me tonight so I didn’t know how to answer this. Tonight was supposed to be all about her. How did I let her get a question in, and that particular one at that?

I tasted the citrus flavored Pinot Gris and excused the waiter. Once he was gone I took a long sip, trying to figure out where to start.

It was my turn to be nervous. My head went down to our hands and I could feel my chest tightening. My hands started to sweat, so I slowly let go of Faith’s hand. I didn’t want her to know this was making me uncomfortable. I have never spoken about them to anybody other than Sarah and Steve. The guys at work didn’t even know.

He finally let go of my hand. Thank, God. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I liked it too much.

A small part of me was still on edge from the text I’d gotten. If he knew who that text was really from he would have had every reason just to leave. Brad said he wanted to talk. He missed me. I told him to leave me alone and I shut my phone off. All I needed was for John to catch Brad texting me. I don’t even think he knew about Brad. I’ve never lied to him before, and even being a small white lie I felt like scum.

John was stalling on answering my question. Was he about to tell me he came to find me? Is that why he’s so cagey?

A chant started in my head, Please don’t say me. Please don’t say me.

First he practically ogled me to death at the door, making me what to change my clothes - and making Grace a marked woman for suggesting this dress.

Then he’s being so sweet and trying not to pressure me. How am I supposed to tell him that I don’t want to get involved with him? I shouldn’t even be here talking to him. This is exactly why I wanted it to be lunch.

The entire ride here I couldn’t pull myself away from him. Besides the fact that he had a death grip on me, I liked it. Damn it! I liked it, I knew I shouldn’t. If the words I don’t want to hear come out of his mouth I’ll get up and leave. He can’t still want me. I won’t let him.

I pulled myself out of my reverie long enough to notice that John was pale.

“Are you sick? You’re breathing hard.” I put my hand up to his forehead and he shivered. “John, I think we should go home.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I just have never talked about it before.”

Oh my God. What’s he going to tell me? He’s on the run and Chicago is a great place to hide. It is known for its mobsters. Geraldo Rivera did that special about Al Capone.

He has a family that he abandoned?

He came for me?

He’s an octodad?

He came for me?

He’s an arsonist and it’s easier to hide here? Okay, that’s a super scary thought considering what he does, but I know it happens.

He came here for me?

I plastered a fake smile and said, “If you say so. What’s wrong?”

He kept rubbing his hands on his lap. Oh, God, he did come for me. With the smile still on my face I said, “Take a drink.”

I held his glass of wine to his lips so he could take a sip. He wrapped his hand around mine and I could feel him trembling. What could he tell me that was so bad it would cause this kind of reaction?

HE CAME FOR ME!!!! I was screaming in my head.

He sat quietly for a moment staring at his lap. When he looked up at me his eyes were rimmed with tears. “John, it can’t be that bad. You can tell me anything even if you think I don’t want to hear it.”

He shook his head. “I know you’ll be upset about it, but there’s no way that you hearing it can be as bad as me having to say it. I’ve never said it to anyone before. I haven’t needed to.”

I wasn’t following him. What could he possible have gone through that could be this bad?

“Tell me, John. You’ll feel better.”

He chugged down the rest of the wine before he let me take the glass out of his hand. I set the glass a safe distance away and turned back to him, taking hold of both his hands. I folded them between mine and made him turn towards me so our knees were kissing. I sat there and waited. I wasn’t sure how long we would sit there, but I knew I wouldn’t push him any more. He looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

This is a man who runs into burning buildings pulling people out, jump-starting hearts again with his bare hands. If he couldn’t remain calm I sure had to.

After he took a few deep breaths, he looked up at me.

“My parents were murdered. I couldn’t..,” his lips trembled as his words trailed off.

One lone tear rolled down his cheek. His eyes were on me, watching and waiting for my reaction. I was in shock. Of all the things I had thought of being told that wasn’t one of them. My head whirled with questions - how, when, why? Instead, I instinctively put a hand to his cheek. Our eyes met with a silent understanding. It broke my heart to see him hurting.

“Let’s get out of here.” I rubbed his face, feeling the tense cheek ease as I soothed him. “We can take the food to go and eat at one of our places if you want. Where do you want to go?”

I was pulled into an embrace that felt like I was in a trash compactor crushing my bones. He tucked his head into my shoulder, resting his forehead in the crook of my neck as he strangled me around my waist.

His back was arching up and down in silent tears. His heart beating so rapidly I thought he was about to have an anxiety attack. I wrapped as much of my arms as I could around his broad shoulders and smoothed back the bottom of his hair.

The waiter appeared to see how we were doing. His eyes took in the scene that we created. John never raised his head, he simply latched on to me tighter when he heard the waiter clear his throat.

I said, “Can you have them wrap up our food? We changed our minds and are going to take it to go.”

The waiter nodded in response and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

I pulled myself away from John as much as he’d allow and murmured into his hair, “Listen, can you drive?”

He gave a silent nod in response.

“Why don’t you go get the car from the valet while I wait for the food?” I felt like I was speaking to a devastated child, which, I guess, to a certain extent, I was.

I slipped backwards off his lap so he could get out. To look at him you would think he only had a cold. His nose was red from the tears he was fighting to hold back, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. The shoulders that were always pulled back and straight slumped forward and his head hung down to the ground.

His eyes never left the floor as he pulled out his wallet leaving his card to pay. He strode out to go get the truck, anguish running off him.

With our Italian in a bag ready to go, John helped me get up into the truck, looking at everything around us but me.