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“You didn’t like my answer,” he said, his eyes glimmering.
I emptied my glass of wine and placed the glass down, “No. I understand perfectly. You don’t want to share with the stalker that’s hanging out at a bar trying to pursue you while you unwind.”
“You’re pursuing me?” he asked coyly, giving me a look that weakened my knees.
My hands shook as I attempted to place my wine glass on the counter. He reached out and placed it down for me. “I… I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to answer that.” He reached out and tucked a curl behind my ear. “I was merely teasing you, like you were teasing me.”
His tone was soothing, though the sensation of his touch sent a jolt through my body. I took in a ragged breath. “I… thanks, Jonas.”
“You’re welcome, Lily,” he said with a hint of amusement in his tone. He took another sip of Scotch. “Now to answer your question. I enjoy sketching, classical music, literature, old movies, Tantric sex….”
Jonas paused and waited for my blush, which I gave to him on cue. He responded with his own broad grin. “I also enjoy philosophy. Philosophy is at once the most sublime—”
“And the most trivial of human pursuits. William James.” I met his eyes full on.
“However, philosophy is our inspiration, our doubts, challenges, what perception exists that does not have philosophy as its origin?” I said.
“Lily, now that’s a dialogue we could share for eternity.” His words thickened the air between us. The moment was palpable and I fell into it. His eyes blazed over me this time and a shiver coursed through my body. My own eyes were unable to move away from his, as my chest heaved. We were locked together, the distance between us gone.
It was Jonas that ended the connection by shifting his stance and running a hand through his hair. The light caught the ring on his hand, dispelling the connection. Was he still married? The rumor was that he was divorced. But with that ring still on his finger, he apparently hadn’t moved on. Not that I was able to do anything about it. We both drank our drinks in silence as a distance settled between us again. I didn’t understand what I might have done, but wanted to change it back. I attempted lighter conversation. “So, I hear you’re in Texas?”
“Yes, temporarily. Though it’s been six months. I try to return to New York as often as possible to be with my family.” He averted his eyes, but this time I waited until I caught them before I started speaking again.
“That’s good for you and your family. I used to travel often, but not much anymore.”
Jonas motioned to the bartender to refill my drink, “Where have you traveled?”
My eyes dilated. “I went with my parents to Sweden, France, Scotland, Finland, and Ireland, all when I was nineteen. I also studied in France and Germany when I was in college.”
“They still in Quincy?” he asked politely.
My eyes darted as I struggled to school my face. I was losing my composure in front of the man I was there to impress.Not now, I told myself.He merely asked a simple question.Where are they? “No. They… they’re not.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Jonas asked. His voice deep, soothing.
A lump formed in my throat, robbing me of speech.
He touched my arm and the flare of connection was there as before, but also warmth radiating from his hand had me wishing he would keep it there. My need for contact almost overwhelmed me in that moment. I tried to reign in the desire as I answered hoarsely, “Not at all, it was just a passing thought.”
“It seemed like more,” his tone softened, “or you wouldn’t look so sad now.” He reached out his hand and lifted my chin. I gazed up into his eyes as my pulse sped up once again.
“They’re both gone,” I said and sucked in my breath. He moved his hand down the side of my face in a caress.
“Saying sorry, isn’t enough really,” Jonas said quietly. “But I am.”
I turned my head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crane. I didn’t come here to talk about myself and my family.”
“Jonas,” He corrected me. “And don’t apologize. Truth is, you are my first genuine conversation in a while, besides my family….”
I nodded quickly. “Your wife and son. That’s….”
“My ex-wife, Danielle, Dani and my son Paul. I guess I will be saying wife until she gets remarried, though,” he said with a lift in his tone. But the cloudiness in his eyes led me to believe I wasn’t alone in my pain. I reached out and took his hand and he squeezed it, then let go.
“Sorry isn’t enough. But I am.” I repeated his words back to him. Our eyes locked on each other, as we stood there, neither one of us saying anything.
“How about a change of subject?” I asked. “Could you tell me about your sketching?”
