Free Lily Love by Maggi Myers Page B

can see Tate’s back through the window. He’s slumped forward, elbows to table and hands in his hair. I think about all the times I’ve been exactly where he is, digesting whatever crap news the doctors have doled out that day. How nice it would’ve been to have had someone to talk to after that first appointment, before I made a habit of keeping it all to myself.
    As if he can hear my thoughts, he glances over his shoulder and meets my eyes. I smile and give him a small wave.
    I’m here, Tate. You’re not alone.

comfort of strangers
    W e sit in silence as we eat our sandwiches. I miss the playfulness of our earlier conversation. I nibble at my sandwich and watch Tate study his food. I know this trick, the “pretend to be focused on anything else” tactic; hell, I practically invented it. The longer he ponders his corned beef on rye, the more excuses he’ll find not to talk. The way his shoulders are slumped forward and his head dropped, I know he’s already close to folding in on himself, shoving everyone else out.
    “Did I do okay?” I interrupt his retreat. “If you don’t like corned beef, I’ll trade you. I’ve got turkey and Swiss on wheat.” I smile innocently as he glances up from his plate. So it’s slightly gnawed on. Whatever. It’s small talk.
    “Corned beef is great, thank you.” He gives me a tight smile. I miss the dimples. “How is Lily?” he asks nonchalantly.
    I chew slowly, buying time to consider my answer. I could answer him honestly, and head down a rabbit hole that has nothing to do with him, or I could be a complete hypocrite and avoid talking about her at all. I’m weighing my options carefully when he cuts in, “It’s not easy, is it?”
    “What’s not easy?” I ask.
    “Talking about
it
.” He even uses air quotes to mark the point.
    Well, crap. Touché.
    “
It’s
tricky. It doesn’t mean that
it
isn’t worth talking about.” I sigh, shaking my head at my total lack of eloquence. “I don’t know if that makes any sense . . .” I let my words trail off. This is exactly what I mean; walking naked through the hospital atrium sounds easier than talking about Lily.
    “Yeah.” He nods his agreement and picks at a chip on his plate. “It makes perfect sense.”
    “I’ll make you a deal,” I offer. “You tell me something about you and I’ll tell you something about me. If
it
comes up, all the better.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter, but my heart is boxing with my rib cage. I just want him to keep talking.
    “Okay.” He clears his throat and licks his lips. I blush. I blush?
    Get a grip, Caroline
.
    “Deal.” He extends his hand across the table. I take his hand in mine and we shake on it.
    “Deal,” I say, “but you have to start; you already know that I have a daughter and drink skinny vanilla lattes.”
    I wait for him to say something. He sits across from me, stoic, pensive, and silent.
    “Tate, you don’t have to say anything.” I backpedal. “I’m sorry if I was pushy, I—”
    He interrupts my apology. “I have a twin sister,” he blurts out.
    Well, that’s a start.
    “Who’s older?” I ask. I’m so keenly focused on Tate, I reach for my chips with my right arm. Tate’s gaze follows the movement of my quavering hand. I concentrate on holding on to the chip and getting it to my mouth without dropping it. My heart and my rib cage are in a full-out MMA battle at this point. I know I’m red-faced with embarrassment; I can feel the heat pulsing under my cheeks. Tate’s eyes lift from my hand, locking with mine. There’s no pity, just curiosity. I wait for him to say something. Anything.
    “Tarryn,” he says. His eyes never leave mine, holding me captive with their caramel warmth.
    “Huh?”
    “Huh”? Caroline speak pretty.
    “Tarryn.” He smiles, flashing his dimples. “My sister—she’s three minutes older than me. Tell me something random about yourself.”
    I start to squirm under his penetrating stare. When he