For You
A WHW universe one-shot. Ambrose Mariano (son of Jess) has never gotten the girl. There was only ever one girl he wanted to get anyway. Can he put the past aside for a shot at happiness? Title inspired by the Barenaked Ladies song of same name. Complete.
Ambrose Mariano sat at the end of the bar furthest from the entrance and nearest the bathroom, his beer half full (or as he'd say, half empty) and easily within reach. In fact, his fingers played lightly along the side, as if he was contemplating his next sip. His posture was still better than average, a good indicator that at most it was his second drink of the evening.
His sister made a beeline for him, ignoring the appreciative glances she garnered from male patrons on her pass through the bar. She took the empty seat next to him and flagged the bartender. "I'll have what he's having," she said smoothly.
Ambrose turned to her with a furrowed brow. "You will?"
"Why not? I've always wanted to say that, and I figure this is a safe bet. Unless you're drinking a special pity brew."
He sighed heavily. "If this is you being helpful in some way, you can go. Won't your husband expect you home to make his dinner or something?"
"He can order take-out," she said with a shrug, obviously not too concerned for her new husband's welfare. "I don't cook for him to fulfill some wifely duty, I simply fear for both of our lives if he attempts anything fancier than reheating something in the microwave."
Ambrose wasn't going to argue the fact that Jake Dugrey—his best friend and newly minted brother-in-law—had no business in a kitchen unless it involved making a simple sandwich or nuking leftovers. "In case it makes a difference, I don't want to talk about it."
Jules tapped her fingers on the bar. "I'm sure that would make your sulking far more peaceful, if it did."
He let out a groan as he ran his fingers through his thick, nearly black hair. "Aw, geez. What do you want from me? Talking won't make this magically uncomplicated."
She nudged his shoulder with his. He had a good three inches on her, but her lower center of gravity worked to her advantage in sibling pushing and shoving bouts. "I just thought maybe you'd like to get things off your chest. Mariano men have a tendency to bottle things up until they explode."
He took a long, slow, almost punishing drink. "There isn't anything to say. She made her choice a long time ago. Back then, everyone thought I should accept her choice without question, and I did my best. In fact, I let her off the hook on more than one occasion. I've always played it her way, at my own expense. Why should I make it easy for her now?"
Jules sent him a soft, empathetic smile. "Am, I know you didn't show it much, but I saw how deeply she hurt you. I know her choosing someone else must have been unbearable," she began in earnest.
"She married him." He spoke the three words with biting emphasis.
Her beer arrived, and she concentrated on it with a furrowed expression. "Yeah. That part sucks."
He gave a resentful snort. "You can say that again."
Jules eyed her brother carefully before proceeding. "But she had to, didn't she?"
His chocolate-hued eyes narrowed sharply at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Jules knew her logic was sound, but that didn't make it any more palatable for him to digest. "It's just, well, they grew up together. They were each other's first crushes, first loves, first of a lot of things," she said pointedly.
"That's not entirely true. Her first crush was Matthew Broderick after she saw Ferris Bueller's Day Off."
Jules smiled at the shared confidence he relayed. "I know what you felt for her was more than just a fling, that you two really connected. But what they had, they had to see it through and find out if it was forever. She would have always wondered."
"But the thing is, Jules, we did really connect. We were more than one great night, and she knew that. But that's all she let us have, because of him."
Jules felt worse for her brother, realizing for the first time that he'd done more than pine for this woman. Her next question came at a whisper. "You two spent a night together?"
He cleared his throat and averted his eyes from his sister's widened interest. "After Ella's engagement party. You were there—you spent the night in Jake's room that night," he said, refreshing her memory.
"That's who you were with!" she half-shouted at him.
"Who did you think I was with?" he posed, albeit at a much softer decibel than she'd taken.
Jules shrugged, pulling herself out of her surprise. "Some random girl you met on your way home from the party, or I don't know, a booty call at best. I knew you were upset, seeing Rosa at the party. You were so out of sorts that night. Jake and I were worried about you."
"God, couple pity. I'll pass. You two are nauseating in every situational context, you realize that, right?"
"It's not because we're a couple. I'm your sister and he's your best friend. We were separately worried about you, but together. Just like we are now."
"Whatever. It was one night. That's all she was willing to give, and I figured I'd rather have that than nothing. I was never sorry we did that. I knew she was going to go back to him, and that they'd probably get married, and I'd just be this one memory for her."
"So is that all she is now for you? A memory?"
He drained his glass. "Yep," he managed, the lie gritting out through his teeth.
"Ambrose, don't do that. No one is asking you to keep what you're feeling for her at bay, not this time. If you keep ignoring her calls, she'll stop calling. Is that what you really, truly want?"
He shot her a look. "Be honest. How did you find out about this?"
Jules shifted in her seat, having been called out. "Ella called Jake."
"Why isn't he sitting here drinking with me?"
"We did best out of three with rock-paper-scissors."
"Nice," he muttered. "Listen, she's just on the rebound from her broken marriage. Whatever. It'll pass. She'll move on and that's it."
"And you don't think you should at least have a cup of coffee with her and talk before you make that assumption?"
His whole body tensed at the thought. There were times he felt cursed by his vivid imagination and its capabilities. Picturing the scene, seeing her again, that qualified. "I can't."
"Why not?"
Ambrose let his hand fall down hard on the bar. "Because I can't. If I go meet her for a cup of coffee, she'll sit there and smile at me and wrap me around her finger and I'll agree to whatever she wants to do, and I can't do that again. I got over her. I moved on. I can't do it again." His voice broke on the last word, and the muscles in his neck were strained from effort. He zeroed in on his sister and all the pain in his body came burning out of his eyes in that brief second.
"Okay," Jules said simply.
He shot her a sideways glance, with his usual cagey disbelief. "You aren't going to try to talk me into it anymore?"
"I'm on your side. You're my brother, I want you to be happy. If she isn't going to make you happy, then you shouldn't get back into it with her. But this is the last thing I'll say—if you think there is even the slightest chance this might work out, I think you should at least talk to her. You can bring your neurotic, skeptical, pessimistic worldview persona to the table, but I've never seen you care about anyone the way you cared about her."
His nerves reignited and his foot started bouncing against its former resting spot on the bottom rung on the stool. "Damn it."
Jules barely clamped down on the smile that resulted. "So you do want to meet her for coffee?"
His brow creased and he shook his head. "I didn't say that."
She screwed up her mouth, as she thought out loud. "Is this a guy thing? Do you need Jake for this?"
"Please don't involve more people in this," he pleaded.
She bit her lip and nodded. "Want more beer?"
He shot her a dangerous glare. "I just need time to think. I don't know, right now. I want to see her, but I don't know."
She put an arm around his shoulder, ignoring his general dislike for shows of affection. "Can I ask you a question?"
He grunted, which she took as a sign to continue. "When you were together, that night," she began as she let go of him. His groan wasn't enough to dissuade her, either. "Did you consider not sleeping with her?"
He nodded and stared at his hands. "Yeah."
"Even though you wanted to be with her?"
"I never wanted anything more, than to be with her. But I knew I was damned if I did and damned if I didn't."
"I don't think I could have done that, with Jake—to feel like that and only have one night together."
He shrugged. "It's not the same thing. It was complicated with her, always. When I could get her to stop thinking and just be in the moment, the two of us—it was glorious. Part of me wanted to be with her because I loved her and I knew I wouldn't get the chance again. But part of me just wanted to prove to her—give her proof of what she'd be missing out on with me, by choosing him."
Jules had never heard her brother make such a proclamation, about anyone. "You loved her?"
His eyes darkened, and he grew monosyllabic again. "Yeah. So?"
"How many times has she called you recently?"
"Ella didn't tell every last pathetic detail?" he asked, his sarcasm biting.
"She said it was a bunch."
"Seven. She's left seven voice messages. Ten texts."
"What does she say in these messages?"
He stared off across the bar, hearing Rosa's voice in his head, seeing her words in his mind's eye. "That she wants to talk, to catch up. That it's been too long, as if that's somehow not code for her just having gotten a divorce."
Jules nodded and finished her drink. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you should meet with her. But no one would blame you for making her work hard at gaining your affection again."
"She already has it, that's the problem," he said as he threw cash down on the bar to cover their tab. "Come on, we'll split a cab."
-X-
It was raining out, the kind of weather system that was slow moving and felt never-ending as millions of drops fell from the sky and splashed into well-formed puddles all over the city. She was practically prancing as she took long, jumping strides to avoid getting her high heels wet on her way from the street to the door of the coffee shop.
There was a fire going in the hearth in the back corner of the eatery, the likes of which the dampest of customers had crowded around to dry out soggy bags and jackets and anything else that taken on too much water in their travels. He'd worn a jacket meant for such elements, with a hood, and he sat dryly by the window to see if she'd really show and hopefully watch her approach with his own eyes, as the only heat he needed came from his coffee and the thought of seeing her again.
Her hair was shorter, he noticed as she let go of her furtive grip on her trench coat once inside. It wasn't tucked into the collar, as he had assumed, but fell in a swingy bob just below her jawline. It made her look older, and he reasoned that they were in fact older. He hoped they were also wiser, but only time would prove that.
He held up a hand, and her scan of the space stopped as her eyes landed on him. She smiled, but her steps toward him were achingly tentative. "You came."
"You cut your hair."
He couldn't take his eyes off her. It was always the same, she came into hyper-focus and the rest of the world faded, as if it had been washed-out and muted, just a soft background made just for her. She put her hand up to the back of her head and cupped it with a slight uncertainty. "I needed a change."
He gave a slight snort in response. "You can sit, unless you aren't staying long."
She unwrapped her rain-dappled jacket and put it over the back of her chair before sitting without any further invitation. "I'm glad you got back to me. I was starting to think you wouldn't."
He'd let her sweat it out for another night and half a day before he texted her. He hadn't wanted to hear her voice when they made plans. It seemed like an unfair preview of her state of mind. It was easy enough to come off aloof in a message. It was much harder to hide emotion when directly conversing with someone that knows your tells. "I've been busy."
She nodded as if she accepted his bullshit response for what it was. "I know what you must think."
"And what's that?" he prompted. He was curious and rightfully still guarded from all the ways she'd left him before. She'd demanded a hell of a lot of understanding from him in the past—he was glad the tables were turned, if only the smallest part of him.
"That I made a huge mistake and I got what I deserved," she said brazenly. He loved that she never pulled punches. "And that you're probably only meeting with me so you can say I told you so about Pax."
He shook his head to negate her guess. The idea made him sad—what she'd gone through, he wouldn't have wished on an enemy, let alone on her. "I'm not going to say that."
"If the situation had been reversed," she began.
"It wouldn't have been," he cut her off, his brown eyes burning with the kind of intensity he'd always held for her. "So we don't have to go there."
"Ambrose," she said softly, in a way that no one else spoke his name. He felt something inside of him start to liquefy. He was going to have to leave soon if he hoped to remain stoic.
"Why did you want to meet?"
Her hazel eyes reflected hurt at his question. "I wanted to see you."
"Didn't have the urge in the last four years?" he asked, never one to pull punches either.
She ducked her head, her hair falling into her face from both sides. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?"
She met his stalled, impertinent gaze. "Why did you come?"
"Jesus, Rosa. You know why I came."
She shifted in her seat, wishing she'd grabbed coffee before sitting down. "Do you hate me?"
"Yes," he said too quickly, giving away the fact that he didn't, not even the slightest little bit. He might have wanted to, but that's as far as he'd ever gotten.
She smiled at him. "I've missed this."
"You're a sadist," he informed her.
"You like that about me," she volleyed back.
He raised an eyebrow, but he couldn't help smiling at her. "You want some coffee?"
"Yes, please. Splash of milk," she began.
"And no sugar. I remember," he said as he stood and passed her to walk to the counter. It took only a minute to get her drink to her taste, and he put it in front of her, her hand grazing his as they exchanged ownership. He didn't want to shake off the buzz that simple touch had given him.
"So, how have you been?" she asked, getting the small talk out of the way.
He sat back and considered her. "Still at CNN. I'm a segment producer now."
Pride emanated from her eyes. "Impressive."
"It's been good so far," he said, in his oddly humble way.
"You don't work all the time, though," she probed.
"You'd be surprised," he countered.
Her eyes leveled him. "Ambrose, are you going to make me ask?"
"Ask what?" he said, forcing her to push past her reservation and his stubbornness.
If she needed to gather her courage, she didn't need much time. "Are you dating a lot?"
He smiled at her, taking in her nervous disposition as she waited for his answer. "You know me, breaking hearts everywhere I go."
She re-positioned her fingers around the warm mug. "Are you dating anyone right now?"
"You want to know if I'm available?" he demanded, uncrossing his leg at his knee and leaning forward.
She gave a brief nod. "Yes."
"I'm not seeing anyone right now. I was, a few months ago, but it wasn't anything serious."
She gave a wistful laugh. "Funny, that's what Ella usually says when I would ask her who you were seeing. 'No one serious.'"
He swallowed a lump that had recently formed in his throat. "You'd ask Ella about me?"
She ducked her chin again, and her hand moved to tuck her hair back behind her ear after it swung forward yet another time. It was a mannerism she hadn't had before, and he attributed it her new hair style. "Yeah, I mean, you know. It's not like I felt like I could just call you up, out of the blue, or that we could hang out. But I still… I still wondered. I still cared."
He blinked, willing any emotion he was experiencing to stay at bay. "What about you?"
"What do you want to know?"
His mouth twisted up into a half smile. "Where are you working?"
"At a mid-size architecture firm, uptown. I took some time off, so I just started back into it. I'm actually almost done with my probationary period."
"You took time off?" he asked.
"The last couple of years, things got a little out of perspective for me. Pax, he had to travel a lot for work, and when I was working, we spent a lot of time apart. For a while, I thought maybe that was our issue. So I stopped working to go with him. I had all these crazy thoughts, like I could study the architecture of wherever we were and get inspired to do some freelance work, but all I ended up with was a lot of sketches and an ex-husband."
He took in every word she said as she unloaded a little. Suddenly her expression changed from nostalgic to horror-stricken. "Oh, God. You don't want to hear about that. I'm sorry."
His hand reached across the table and settled on top of hers. His thumb stroked over her knuckles. "It's okay. I asked."
"Not about him."
"When did you two split up?" he asked, hoping it wasn't as recent as he'd grown accustomed to thinking it was in his head.
"Nine months ago. The divorce became final three months ago, but we did all that through lawyers. We're trying to stay friends, which means we don't bad talk each other to the rest of the group, and we rarely see each other. "
"It's good to have a system."
"Yeah. I came back to New York for the job about two months ago. It took me four weeks to get up the nerve to call you, after I got your number from Ella."
"I never took Ella for the meddling type," he mused.
Her eyes widened. "She isn't. Believe me, she wasn't even going to tell me anything about what you were up to now, but I made her, I wore her down. This was all my doing."
"Because you still think about me," he said. It wasn't really a question, he knew it was true. And that one nugget of information gave him hope like he'd never had before in his life. It was engulfing and unbelievably fragile, all at once.
She looked up at him through a thick layer of dark lashes. "Don't you think about me?"
His hand tightened around hers. "I think about you."
"What do you think?"
"Sometimes I wonder just what it was, about you—about us—that made me keep going back to it, over and over, despite everything."
She leaned in over the table, the tips of her toes anchoring her underneath on the floor. "I remember when I met you."
"At Yale."
"You were so gruff and flippant, trying to be so cool."
"I wasn't trying to be anything," he contended.
"You were the opposite of all the boys I'd known in prep school."
"I went to prep school," he said, as if he needed to defend his education. "You thought I was amusing."
She smiled and bit her lip. "I studied you."
"A flimsy excuse to get a look at my bedroom," he teased her.
"How is your family?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"Crazy as ever. Mom's still in California, Dad and Gwen are still together. Jack keeps them busy. And I'm sure you know Jules married Jake."
"What is with our best friends marrying our siblings?" she asked, a member of that club as well.
"They have someone awesome in common. I get that," he said with a smile.
She however, grew serious at the mention. "Am, about that night, Ella's engagement party," she began.
He held up a hand to pause her. "We talked about that. At her wedding."
She reached out and took his hand in hers, pulling it down to the table. "I know. But I wanted you to know, that at the time, I thought it would be better, to have that night, that memory, than to wonder 'what if' about us forever."
"You don't feel that way anymore?"
"It wasn't just a memory for me. I still wondered, even more than I might have, if I'd done the right thing by you. If I'd made a terrible mistake."
He withdrew his hand. "Don't tell me that I'm the reason you aren't with Pax anymore. Because that's bullshit."
"What? No. Pax and I, that's separate. Sure, I thought about you when things were bad with him, but I would have never tried to justify our problems that way. He and I had such a history, we had to give it a shot. I needed proof of it failing or succeeding once and for all. I know that. I knew that then. But I never counted on you. On the effect you had on me. I still wonder what more there could be. I was never in a position to find out before. And maybe now it's too late, but letting more time pass felt worse, so I called."
"You want to spend the night together?" he asked, slightly wary.
She blushed. "No. Well, probably, but I was thinking we'd start with coffee and work our way up to dinner. Or a concert. Whatever you like to do on a date."
His hope still felt dangerous. "You're asking me out?"
"I… yes. I guess I am."
His hope mixed with happiness, uncertainty, and body-paralyzing apprehension and nearly incapacitated him. "Can I think about it?"
Her disappointment was palpable. "Of course. Take all the time you need."
"Rosa, it's not that I don't want to go out with you."
"Double negative usage. You must be confused," she teased weakly.
He smiled back. "It's just… after everything, I'm not sure about doing something as carefree as taking you on a date."
She sat up painfully straight. "Actually, I'm offering to take you out. I figure I owe you at least a dinner, after everything I've put you through."
"Seems like we've done everything but go on a date," he mused.
Her cheeks tinged again with sudden pink hues. "Are you sorry we spent that night together?"
"No," he said automatically, this time his instantaneous response time a resounding assurance as to his real feelings. "I never knew if it was a mistake or not, to have you in my bed, all wrapped up in something that I couldn't have again, but the only regret I would have had was not having that night."
"And you're still resigned to let it be just that one night?"
"It was so much more than that one night. And you didn't ever give me any other choice."
She nodded, accepting his words. "I know. But I am now. That's what I'm asking for—a date, to see if I was just as big an idiot as I've felt like. "
"You weren't an idiot," he said. "You were perfectly imperfect and I don't ever want you to apologize for it."
She half turned in her seat to grab at her jacket. "That's not what I would apologize for. Thanks for meeting with me. When you make up your mind, you have my number."
He only had one thought, one consideration that he saw as the one hurdle he wouldn't jump for the chance at being with her. He also wanted to stop her from disappearing so quickly. "I need to know one thing."
She looked up at him, sure he couldn't ask for anything she couldn't give. "What's that?"
"You always had him in the back of your mind, you never hid that fact, but I need to know, that now… if we're going to do this, I can't do this knowing that he's still your fall back."
She closed her eyes slowly. "Pax isn't an option anymore. We were on and off for years—turns out for a reason. I could never deny that I wanted to be with you, but if we'd gotten serious, that would have been it. There would have been no looking back, and I had to know, for sure, that it was really over with him first. I don't need to look back anymore. I'm ready to look forward."
"You sound very enlightened."
"Divorce forces one to soul-search. It's sort of a requirement."
He stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry things didn't work out for you."
She looked up at him with a warm smile. It lit up far more than her face. "Thanks. So, you'll call?"
He nodded, slipping his arms back into his jacket, ready to head back out into the incessant rain. "I'll call."
-X-
"Chicken or beef with broccoli?"
"We have to choose?"
"Right," Jess said, circling both on the menu as he held the cap of the pen in his teeth while he marked up the menu. "I have to bring back crab Rangoon for Gwen. She made several inferences about causing me bodily harm if I failed that simple task."
"Then get a double order. And egg rolls."
Jess nodded before looking up suddenly at his oldest child. "Wait. You don't eat this much unless you're growing or depressed. Did you screw up at work?"
"What? No. Work's fine. I mean, it's the same chaotic foot race it always is."
"What gives? Don't make me guess, or worse, call Rory."
"You call Rory to find stuff out about us?" Ambrose asked, flummoxed.
"How do you think I get all my intel? She's an investigative reporter, for Crissake," he grunted. "Besides, everyone close to me who isn't you would much rather seek advice from her than me."
"I've asked her advice about work stuff."
"But this isn't work stuff, as we've already covered. What is it?"
Ambrose stalled. "We should order before they get slammed. After six-thirty, it takes them ninety minutes to deliver."
Jess narrowed his eyes and reappraised his son. "You asked me over for dinner. It's not work. Oh, god, you're having woman problems."
"Dad, stop, please. Just order the damn food."
Jess put down the menu and went over to his son's iPod, which was docked. He pulled up the device's recently played list and shook his head. "Billy Joel and The Police?"
"Stop parsing my musical choices for clues as to my mental health!"
Jess pointed at him. "Look, you can let this shit build up, but no one's going to be happy when you finally explode. I've been there. No one likes to talk about these things, least of all me, but if you tell me, then you feel less like exploding, and maybe you make a good decision. Or a bad decision, but at a certain point even that's a relief. So what gives?"
Ambrose kept his groan internal. "Rosa got a divorce. She called to meet for coffee, which we did, and now she wants to go out on a date."
Jess cocked his head, clearly waiting as patiently as he could. "Wait. Is there more? "
Ambrose drummed his fingers over the abandoned menu. "No."
"What's the problem? A woman you were obsessed with for years wants to go out with you. You said yes, right?"
"No, I didn't. I told her I needed time to think."
"What are you, a girl? What do you need to think about? Does it bother you that she's divorced?"
"No. I mean, it would bother me if she were married and asking me out."
"Glad to see I instilled you with some moral values," Jess waxed with a half-smile. "So what is the issue here?"
"It's Rosa Langley. Or Huntzberger, now, I guess," he frowned at that realization. "I'm not sure."
"It bothers you that she married him?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Apparently she had to, or something."
"She told you that?"
"She alluded to it. Jules said it straight out."
"You've talked to Jules about this?" Jess asked, surprised.
"She and Jake were worried about me, after Ella called."
Jess tossed his hands up in the air. "What the hell? How did I not know about this?"
"Apparently you haven't been calling Rory often enough. It took me a while to get back to Rosa. I wasn't sure I could see her again."
"Because she married someone else?"
"It's not like I ever proposed or asked her to choose between us."
Jess stared down his son with parental scrutiny. "Did you want to?"
Ambrose scrunched his eyes shut, hard, for a long beat. "It wouldn't have changed anything. I went into the whole thing with my eyes open."
"And you still got your heart stomped on."
"And I still got my heart stomped on. If we go out and she chooses to be alone over being with me, that would be infinitely worse than her already being in love and practically engaged to someone else like last time."
"You can't go into it assuming that it's going to end."
Ambrose scratched at the back of his head. "After Mom, wasn't it hard to go into things with Gwen with that kind of carefree optimism?"
Jess shook his head. "Who had carefree optimism? I didn't say that. It was fucking terrifying. But it wasn't Gwen I was afraid of. She was worth working through all my issues in a timely manner so I didn't lose her."
"How'd you do that?"
"By the skin of my teeth. I'll tell you one thing, you need to call Rosa already. You can't make her squirm, it's cruel."
"I'm not making her squirm. And some might say what she put me through before was cruel."
"What she did to you came from a very real place of indecision. What you're doing to her now is out of spite and stubbornness. You're going to go out with her, so put her out of her misery already. Why she wants to spend an evening with your dreary ass is her own issue, but she wants to be with you and you want to be with her. Be the kind of guy she deserves, at least."
Ambrose stared at his father in disbelief. "You're right."
Jess fixed his son with a dour glare. "It happens occasionally."
"It feels too good to be true. You warned me about that kind of thing."
"To keep you safe on the streets, absolutely. But in this case, just thank your lucky stars and don't ask too many questions."
Ambrose was primed, not in need of any more pushing in any direction. "Do you mind picking up Chinese and taking it back to your house?"
Jess smirked at Ambrose. "Get out of here already."
-X-
Ambrose stood under the alcove of the building and buzzed her intercom. There wasn't an answer, and he felt foolish for not calling ahead. Ella had gladly given him Rosa's new address, and he'd been going for a romantic gesture, an effort to sweep in and catch her off-guard, and not waiting for their date. He was ready to go anywhere in the whole city, as long as she was in tow.
He buzzed again, on the off chance she was in the bathroom or asleep, or whatever people who are home but not jumping to answer their intercom might be doing. When another minute passed with no answer, he muttered an expletive and turned to retreat.
"Sometimes the buzzers stick."
He looked up to see her standing in front of him, a small paper bag in one arm and a smile on her face. "Hey. I was just trying to see you."
"I gathered," she said. "You were going to call."
He did his best to take in every detail about her. He forged on through his tendency to keep himself guarded. "I thought in person was better."
"Oh?" she asked, sounding nervous.
He kept his expression pensive, honest. "I kept going back and forth, trying to convince myself that it was a bad idea. The truth is, I wasn't sure I could do this. For one, I've never really done the whole relationship thing, not really. Then, there was the other thing."
"What other thing?" she asked quietly.
"Back then, you were this unattainable, untouchable fantasy. And maybe, if we hadn't had that one night together, I could have convinced myself that there wasn't a good enough reason to take this kind of risk. But we did have that night, and it proved to me that you were so much more than a fantasy."
"That night was pretty fantastic," she added. "There wasn't a part of me you didn't touch."
"I was attempting to commit as much of you to memory as possible."
She was visibly touched. "I don't care what you want people to think, you're clearly a sentimentalist."
"Only for you." He smiled. "What's in the bag?"
"Oh. Ice cream."
"Have you already had dinner?" he asked, realizing that his plan was potentially more foolhardy than foolproof. Perhaps she wasn't available tonight, or maybe she'd changed her mind altogether about wanting to explore possibilities with him.
"No. But you hadn't called and apparently my ego isn't quite what it used to be. This was going to be dinner."
He reached out and took the bag from her. "It can be our dessert."
She gaped at him. "You want to share my ice cream? Someone's taking liberties quite quickly."
"Ice cream is the perfect reward after vigorous activity."
"Are we going running? 'Cause I don't run unless I'm being chased."
He grinned at her. "Do I need to chase you?"
She shook her head, slowly tossing her hair in her face. She made no attempt to tame it this time. "Nope."
"Good then. We can come up with a better way to burn calories. Something we both enjoy."
"Tennis?"
"Rosa," he breathed her name and stepped up to her. She stared up at him in anticipation as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was sweet and short, but promising. "Can I take you to dinner?"
"Yes, please."
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. "If this doesn't work, you're going to have to do a lot to dissuade me to walk away."
"Good," she murmured into his cheek.
"Shooting me might be more humane," he provided.
She drew back. "Ambrose," she said drolly. "Stop."
He stared into her eyes, doing his best to convey how sincere he was. "I'm serious."
"Let's go eat pizza and make everyone else sick because of how into each other we are."
He considered this, not minding the idea for possibly the first time in his entire life. "Done."
He slid his arm around her shoulder and motioned to her front door. "We should go up to your place, stash the ice cream for later, and maybe make up for lost time."
"You aren't hungry?"
"Starved," he whispered in her ear, making her shiver.