Gods & Monsters

NINE

    "You've experienced grief?" Aden asks, his voice softer than I've ever heard. I nod, staring down at the ring on my right hand and anxiously twisting it around my finger.

    "I was supposed to be married before," I say, looking up at him. His eyes hold no judgement, no hint of jealousy. I try to tell myself this isn't something to discuss on a first date, but my lips from words regardless. "We were on our way home from the caterers. We had tasted all the food we wanted for our wedding that was less than a year away. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit the driver's side of the vehicle, going sixty five in a forty. He died instantly from what they told me—experienced no pain. I don't remember much of the night, honestly. I just remember waking up in the hospital to the doctors telling me that my fiancé was dead."

    The pain of that night comes back to me almost as fresh as the day I fould out. I swallow the lump in my throat and look down, tears prickling my lash line.

    Fucking great, I'm on a date with a man for the first time since that fateful night, and I'm crying over Logan, my dead fiancé.

    This is why I don't date.

    I quickly stand, dropping the towel on the table and batting away the tears. "We should go, I'm sorry. I'm—I can't do this. I shouldn't have agreed to this—" Suddenly, there's a comforting warmth that wraps around my shoulders, as if someone had pulled a sherpa blanket straight from the dryer and draped it over my trembling body. I stop, the feeling stretching across the length of my arms, bringing me a sense of comfort. Aden stands too, causing my chin to tip upward at his height.

    "Lia," He whispers, reaching forward and brushing his fingers across my cheek, swiping a stray tear away. I am suddenly thankful we're in a private corner, away from the other guests because I definitely would be the entertainment of the night with the tears that now streak down my cheeks steadily. "Don't apologize, you have no reason to. I can see that you loved the man, and I'm sorry the gods were so cruel in taking that away from you. I am not upset at you, nor has this changed a single thing about you. Grief is something that we carry with us forever, and I understand that as well."

    I stare up at him, my lips parting slightly and the heartache that was once a sharp reminder of my past, began to slowly shrink with every comforting word he spoke. I can't remember the last time my heart didn't hurt, the last time I truly felt okay—but here, right now, is the closest I've ever gotten. I can't help it, the warmth, the comfort he brings, it gives me the overwhelming sense of tranquility that no one has ever brought me. Without thinking, I press up to my tippy toes and my mouth finds his. It's only a whisper of a kiss, just a taste of what I've been dreaming of doing all night. Time seems to freeze as his hand cups my face, his fingers sending a chill across my skin. His lips press gently to mine for just a moment, the softness of them completely undoing every ounce of my self control. I lean in, parting his lips with mine but he pulls away swiftly, something tugging in my chest as he does so. My tongue darts from my mouth to get a second taste of him from my lips. He looks down at me, his breath warm on my face and jaw tense. I see a longing in his eyes, something that resembles the feeling inside my chest.

    "Thank you," I say, stepping back. I sit back down in my chair, the residual warmth now burning in my belly. "Thank you for understanding."

    He sits back down as well, his eyes never leaving mine.

    "Don't thank me, mo chroí. I'm only showing you the grace that you deserve."

    At that, our second course is brought to our table. We finish our dinner with charged air around us, as if something between us has shifted. We don't talk for a bit, finding comfort in our silence as we both reflect on the intimate moment we just shared. Every look I give Aden he meets, as if he feels the weight of my eyes, and they warm at the sight of me. The warmth of his embrace hasn't subsided yet; it lingers like a residual heat across my shoulders.