All I Want. Nicole Helm

strong.

      When he answered, his voice was skeptical and wary and she couldn’t even work up any irritation for it.

      “Hello?”

      “Hi, Charlie. It’s Meg.” Mother of your child, some way, somehow. “I think this afternoon kind of spiraled away from us.”

      “That’s a way of putting it, yes.”

      Oh, that measured, reasoned way he spoke was so grating. But she would rise above it. She would. “So, I was wondering if we could try again. It’s pretty important, after all.”

      “Yes, it is.”

      She bit her tongue for a few humming seconds, literally held it between her teeth just to the point of wincing pain so she wouldn’t say something snippy.

      “Are you free this evening?” he asked.

      She blew out a breath. “Yes, are you too far to come out here? It might be easier to do in private, and I can’t really leave the goats alone that long without more notice.”

      “The goats. Right. Um, no, that’s fine. I can come out to your place.”

      “Okay. So...”

      “I’ll bring some dinner. That is, if you’d like?”

      She narrowed her eyes, allowing herself the snippy expression, since he couldn’t see it. But like the chicken sandwich order and telling her to eat it, she wondered. “Why are you offering to bring me dinner?”

      “Why do I feel like the truth might actually get me into trouble here?”

      She softened a little. He didn’t really embody the snooty aura he gave off—at least not all the time. She needed to remember he was also the man who’d danced with one of her goats. Even if the memory was fuzzy, and it was 100 percent the fault of alcohol, there had to be some semblance of a human being beneath the surface that reminded her all too much of the world she’d left behind.

      But that surface was also a part of him, and she had to be careful about how much she let it influence her, how much she bent to it. So she forced her tone to be kind, even though she was refusing him. “I can feed myself, but I appreciate the offer.” She swallowed. “Do you remember how to get here?”

      There was an odd silence, one that made her nerves jump at the idea of him being back here. Sober. Just the two of them. Doing the opposite of what they’d been doing last time they were here.

      No goat dancing. No drinking. And 100 percent no sex.

      “Yes, I remember.”

      There was something about his voice, something she didn’t particularly notice when she was actually in his presence and he looked like he’d just gotten off a golf cart with her dad. A kind of steadiness, a surety. It was confidence, but not used as a weapon. Her parents’ surety in their decisions and their lives and their place in the world was usually wielded like brass knuckles. No, that was too undignified. One of those ancient but giant swords that could cut you in two with one well-practiced down-the-nose look.

      Charlie’s confidence was different. Besides, he really hadn’t looked like Mr. Put-Together today, had he? He’d grown a beard that looked less like he was trying to fit in with the urban hipsters and more like he just couldn’t be bothered to shave. He’d looked... She couldn’t put her finger on it. It was oddly familiar, the expression, the different way he’d carried himself, and yet she couldn’t label it.