Through the thin fabric of Moselle’s blouse, she felt ten fingertips as though they were heated brands. Her muscles turned to mush.
“You haven’t grown an inch.” Eric lightly touched the top of her head, then
simultaneously tapped her crown and squeezed her shoulder. “But I have.”
Eric moved her aside. “Check it out.”
Without thinking, she grabbed his arm for balance while she inserted her feet back into her shoes. Even with heels, she had to stand on tiptoe to reach the woodwork behind his head.
Moselle swallowed.
Eric surrounded her.
Heat rose in her cheeks. She managed to croak, “Two inches sound about
right?”
He didn’t answer. She sensed his eyes searching her face. She felt his breath
moving the wispy hairs at her temple.
Would they be in their own laundry room with their children’s growth charts if the past had been rewritten? She’d never let herself pursue that dream of marriage to Eric after their break-up.
“You’re lovely today, Moselle, as always. The colors you wear make you look Irish somehow.” He flicked the circles at her left ear and let his hand rest on her shoulder. “But this wolf suspended in silver is definitely not Irish.”
They grinned at one another.
“Having a hard time staying mad at me, Moze?”
“To be angry, a person has to care.”
“Oh, I think you care, sweets. You just don’t want to admit it to
yourself.”
Eric moved a thumb. The rough touch felt feather light over the pulse pounding at her throat. The sensation traveled all the way down to her knees. He lifted a finger and traced her bottom lip. She moaned a silent melt at the airy feeling in her head.
His voice came as a raspy whisper, “It’s easier not to care, isn’t it?”
“You haven’t grown an inch.” Eric lightly touched the top of her head, then
simultaneously tapped her crown and squeezed her shoulder. “But I have.”
Eric moved her aside. “Check it out.”
Without thinking, she grabbed his arm for balance while she inserted her feet back into her shoes. Even with heels, she had to stand on tiptoe to reach the woodwork behind his head.
Moselle swallowed.
Eric surrounded her.
Heat rose in her cheeks. She managed to croak, “Two inches sound about
right?”
He didn’t answer. She sensed his eyes searching her face. She felt his breath
moving the wispy hairs at her temple.
Would they be in their own laundry room with their children’s growth charts if the past had been rewritten? She’d never let herself pursue that dream of marriage to Eric after their break-up.
“You’re lovely today, Moselle, as always. The colors you wear make you look Irish somehow.” He flicked the circles at her left ear and let his hand rest on her shoulder. “But this wolf suspended in silver is definitely not Irish.”
They grinned at one another.
“Having a hard time staying mad at me, Moze?”
“To be angry, a person has to care.”
“Oh, I think you care, sweets. You just don’t want to admit it to
yourself.”
Eric moved a thumb. The rough touch felt feather light over the pulse pounding at her throat. The sensation traveled all the way down to her knees. He lifted a finger and traced her bottom lip. She moaned a silent melt at the airy feeling in her head.
His voice came as a raspy whisper, “It’s easier not to care, isn’t it?”
