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Nice tipper. Always a good character trait.
After a few seconds I looked up at him. “Thank you.” He nodded. I knew he understood I wasn’t thanking him for dinner.
o;Um … what was that?” I asked, my voice wispy air again as I watched the water from the vase soak into the white tablecloth.
“It’s kind of complicated.”
So it really happened. “Did we cause it?”
He nodded, his face poker straight.
“Have you ever experienced that before?”
“Not exactly.”
The waitress arrived to take our orders. The interruption did nothing to resolve the tension. I just wanted her to go away so I could touch him again. Instead, I held my menu up in front of my flaming face, willing my body back to normalcy. Michael ordered the special, and without even looking to see what it was, I did the same.
“I’ll have that right out,” the waitress said, taking our menus. She eyed the sconces above the table, her hot pink lips pursed. “And I’ll bring y’all a candle … it’s dark over here, isn’t it?”
Neither of us answered, and she walked away. I felt exposed without my menu to hide behind.
“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” I asked.
“Would you believe me if I told you it’s better to leave it alone for now?”
“Is there another option?”
“Probably not.” He lifted the corners of his mouth in a smile, but his eyes didn’t get the memo. “Maybe you could go ahead and ask me your other questions.”
“How about ‘what the hell was that?’”
His expression practically hung out a shingle announcing the topic was off-limits.
“Fine.” I tried to catch one of the thoughts racing through my mind so I’d have something to say. I couldn’t, so I retrieved my list and laid it on the table in front of me. “How do you tell the difference between real people and time ripples?”
“You mean besides punching them in the stomach?”
I blushed, not because I’d hit him, but because I was thinking about his abs. “Besides that.”
“There’s the way they disappear into solid objects.” He tapped his lips. “Also, I … um … I’ve been seeing rips for so long now I have a way of sensing them.”
I could see how that would be helpful.
“How do you make them go away?” I asked, referring to my list again. “I mean, not forever, but when you see them—if they’re in your path?”
“I try to ignore them. Since I recognize what they are now, they’re easier to avoid, but if I need them gone for some reason, I touch them. Not that there’s really anything to touch. How about you?”
I nodded, unable to stop myself from staring at his fingers. Unable to stop thinking about how badly I wanted him to touch me again.
Dinner arrived, saving me from my own mind. I tucked my list back into my purse. Once I smelled the food I regained my appetite; it was some kind of glazed salmon and grilled asparagus. Michael took a few bites before pushing his plate to the side. Propping his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together church and steeple style, he said, “Dealing with the ripples will get easier. Hasn’t it already? Since you first started seeing them?”
Easier? “I guess.”
“How did it start for you?”
I hedged a little, chasing a wayward asparagus stalk with my fork. “How much do you know about me?”
“Thomas told me part of your story—you started seeing things just before your parents died. His renovation sites seem to trigger it.”
