Unspoken Fears (The Unspoken Love Series Book 4)

by H. P. Davenport

  A short, robust woman with dark hair pulled back in a bun approaches with menus in her hand. Her makeup is heavy around her deep blue eyes making them stand out prominently. She is attractive for an older woman. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s in her mid-sixties. I’m sure she was quite the catch in her younger days. “Booth or counter, honey?”

  “A booth would be great, ma’am. Preferably toward the back, where it’s a little quieter,” Christian replies politely.

  We follow as she guides us to our designated booth in the far corner. She gestures toward the booth with her arm. “Here you go. My name is Betty, I’ll be your waitress tonight.”

  Her eyes bounce from me to Christian, staying on Christian a little longer. I slip into the booth, my jeans sliding across the black leathered seats. Christian slides in across from me.

  “You’re not going to sit next to this beautiful woman?” Betty asks.

  Christian shakes his head, and the corners of his mouth turn up. “No, I prefer to sit across from her. This way I can see her beautiful face and try to read the stories behind those gorgeous, emerald green eyes.”

  I snap my mouth shut, stunned by his bluntness. “Um… I…” I bite my lower lip in embarrassment. I can only imagine the color of my cheeks.

  He raises his dark brow in challenge. “Stories behind my gorgeous, emerald green eyes,” I repeat and laugh. “No stories here. I inherited them from my father.” I give a lopsided grin.

  Christian stares at me without saying a word with a glint of wonder in his eyes. “Here ya go, honey,” Betty says and hands me the menu.

  Christian extends his hand to take the menu from her.

  “Can I start you out with something to drink?” Betty asks, pulling her pencil from behind her ear, holding her tablet in her hand.

  “I’ll have a Mountain Dew, with little ice, please.”

  Christian arches a brow at me. “No coffee?”

  “Nah, it’s too late for coffee. I’ll be up till morning if I have one at this hour.

  “And the green glass of sugar won’t have you bouncing off the walls?” His dark eyes never leave mine for an instant.

  “Nope,” I say popping the p. “I’m immune. If you cut me, I bleed green. Green for the Dew and green for the Eagles.”

  His mouth curves into an unconscious smile. “Touché.”

  Betty stands quietly at the end of the table, observing us with watchful eyes.

  Christian directs his attention to Betty. “I’ll have a black and white milkshake.”

  “Alright, give me a few and I’ll be back to take your food order,” she says before walking off.

  I browse the menu, settling on a patty melt with fries. I push the menu to the edge of the table and watch Christian while he decides what he wants. A few minutes pass and he closes the menu.

  “So, you were busy, huh?” he asks again with a smirk.

  Not knowing what to say, I nod.

  “I’ve never been blown off before.”

  “Never?” I ask, my eyebrows snap together.

  He shakes his head. “Never,” he replies, his voice low and husky.

  “Well, I’m sorry I was the first to hurt your ego.”

  Betty arrives, placing our drinks on the table. “What would you like to eat?”

  “I’ll have a patty melt with bacon, fried onions, and mushrooms, on toasted sourdough bread, please.”

  She scribbles down my order on her notepad. “Fries with that?”

  “Yes, please, and a big side of ranch dressing. Enough to dip my fries and patty melt into.”

  “You must love ranch dressing.” Betty laughs.

  “Not a huge fan of ketchup. I’m a dipper, ranch is my vice.”

  Betty turns her attention to Christian. “And for you, sir.”

  “I’ll have the Belgian waffles with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and a side of crispy bacon, please.”

  She scribbles down his order, then glances back and forth between the two of us. “Is this your first date?”

  I shake my head quickly and Christian laughs. “Stop shaking your head, you’re going to rattle your brain, Rory.”

  Hearing the word date makes my heart race. Is it racing because I want it to be a date? Or is it racing because I shouldn’t be here? This is simply two people sitting down and having something to eat.

  Betty laughs, “You kids enjoy yourself. I’ll be back when your food is ready.”

  “Kids?” I laugh.

  “Well, she looks like she’s pushing sixty. We are kids to her,” Christian responds.

  A few minutes of awkward silence passes before Christian speaks. His elbows rest on the table and he steeples his fingers under his chin. “So, are you ever going to fess up as to why you didn’t respond to my eager attempts to meet up with you?”

  “Honestly?” My eyes bounce from his eyes to his lips.

  “Of course. I expect nothing less.”

  “I recently moved here to the City from Philadelphia. My career gives me little to no time for socialization.” I leave out the part about having a daughter. No need to tell him about her. It’s not like he’ll ever meet her. The only men in her life, as well as mine, are her grandfathers and Brandon, which is perfectly fine. I refuse to be one of those women parading men through their children’s life when I have no intentions of keeping them around. No need to confuse my child.

  “I can accept that.” He nods. “You mention career, what is it exactly you do for a living?”

  “I recently started my fellowship in Pediatric Emergency Medicine at Mount Sinai Kravis Children's Hospital. I did my residency at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. I loved it there, but logistically it was easier to transfer to Columbia to be closer to my parents who are in New York.”

  I leave out the part of why I transferred to Kravis. No need to inform him of my past. He doesn’t need to know how I was numb for months. The birth of my daughter is what made me realize I needed to continue to live. She is the sole reason I breathe.

  “Wow, you’re a doctor.” Christian tilts his head back, peering at my face. “You left CHOP, which is a world-renowned hospital, to come to New York. To be closer to your parents? He lifts his brows, and I nod. “Interesting.”

  Curiosity dances in his eyes, but Christian doesn’t ask any questions about why I transferred.

  “Kravis Children’s Hospital is ranked among the country’s top childrens’ hospitals. Mount Sinai has an alliance with CHOP, giving families access to the newest treatments in pediatric oncology and fetal medicine,” I ramble, not wanting to go into the real reason why I left.

  I change the subject attempting to shift the focus from me. “What do you do for a living?”

  “My best friend Jamie and I co-own a music studio here in the City.”

  “Jamie is the same Jamie as the lead singer of Side Effects?” I’m trying to piece together the conversation we had the night we met a few weeks back.

  “Yeah, he’s married to my sister, Camryn.” He rolls his eyes.

  “Are you okay with the fact your best friend married your sister?”

  He nods. “They’ve had a special bond since we were kids. It took them a while to pull their heads out of their asses and figure things out. Jamie’s a great guy. I couldn’t ask for someone better for her.” The corners of his mouth rise. “Camryn is Jamie’s other half.”

  I nod in understanding because there was a time that somebody once completed me. Christian’s sincere tone squeezes at my throat. He speaks so highly of his best friend and sister.

  “Do you only have one sibling?”

  “Yeah, we’re twins. Mom stopped after us. I guess the two of us were a handful.” Christian takes a long sip of his milkshake. The image of him sucking on the straw has my most intimate parts pulsing. Squeezing my thighs together, I pray the ache dulls because this thing with Christian won’t go anywhere.

  Pulling my glass close, my lips wrap around the straw and I take a long sip of my favorite cold d
rink. His eyes linger on my lips, making my body tingle.

  “Damn lucky straw,” Christian hisses from across the table, his eyes focusing on my lips.

  The soda goes down the wrong pipe, causing me to choke. Christian quickly jumps from the booth, coming over to pat my back lightly. “Hold your arms up,” he instructs.

  After coughing a few times and clearing my throat, I hiss, “That shit doesn’t work.”

  Unrolling my silverware from the napkin, I dab my mouth.

  “You okay?” he asks with concern in his eyes.

  I nod, and he returns to his seat.

  Once I’m able to speak again, I try and get to know more about him. “Are you close with your sister?”

  “Yeah. You would think as we got older that things would have changed, but we did the exact opposite. As we got older, we’ve become closer.” He lifts his chin to me. “You have any siblings?”

  “Nah, just me. My father wasn’t home much when I was a child. He traveled all the time for business. My mom pretty much raised me on her own. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t resent my father for working as hard as he did. He wanted to provide for his family.”

  “Your father sounds a lot like mine. My father’s a lawyer, so when he was an associate, he spent a lot of time at the office when we were younger. Now being a partner, he’s able to spend more time at home with my mom.”

  Betty arrives with our food, placing our plates in front of us. “I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”

  “Thank you,” Christian replies.

  Grabbing the salt shaker, I sprinkle some on my fries and move the bowl of ranch dressing next to them. “My dad was there for all my big moments. Prom, graduation from high school, undergrad, and med school. His hard work paid for my education, so I can’t complain. I’m truly blessed not to be saddled down with loans for my schooling.”

  Picking up a fry, I dip it into the ranch dressing and take a bite. “Now that he’s older, his employees do a lot of the legwork my father did when I was younger. He’s able to sit back and watch his business continue to grow and enjoy life.”

  The aroma of Christian’s waffles drizzled with chocolate and powdered sugar is mouthwatering. I should have got that instead of the patty melt. Christian cuts up his waffles, holding a piece out to me. “Here, try these. They’re the best in the city.”

  Brows raised, I stare at the extended fork.

  “Come on, take a bite. I haven’t eaten off my fork yet. Even if I had, I promise, I haven’t done anything disgusting with my mouth today.”

  “Today?” I lift an eyebrow.

  He gives me a once over. “Since we’re being honest. A while, okay.”

  A while, huh. I pictured this man having a different woman in his bed every night. Surprised by his honesty, I’m somewhat intrigued. Maybe he isn’t the man-whore I assumed him to be since he was obviously looking to pick up a woman in a bar the night we met.

  “You’re crazy.” Leaning into the table, Christian leads the fork to my open mouth.

  Closing my eyes, a moan leaves my mouth, savoring the taste. They are heavenly. When my eyes finally meet his, I inhale sharply. Deep brown eyes stare back at me.

  He lifts his brow. “Don’t make noises like that, please.” His hand reaches under the table, I’m assuming to adjust himself.

  Smiling back, I nod. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “My body responds to your little moans.”

  A song plays from the booth a few over from us. I hum the words. Breathe by Through Fire.

  Both brows go up, along with the corners of his lips. “You like to sing?”

  “Not in public, but when I’m alone I like to.”

  “I’d like to hear you sing.”

  I laugh. “Not gonna happen. As I said, it’s something I do in private, in the shower, in the car. Alone in my home. Definitely not in front of people.”

  Lifting my burger to my lips, I take a bite, washing it down with a mouthful of my soda.

  Christian reaches into his pocket, withdrawing his wallet. “Here,” he says holding a five dollar bill in front of me.

  “Why are you giving me money?”

  He nods his head to the small jukeboxes at our table. “Show me what sort of music you like. I’m curious about what you enjoy.”

  I take the money from his hand without making contact and slide it into the machine. Browsing the song selection, I find a few of my favorites to play. Let’s Hurt Tonight by One Republic begins to play, and I hum the lyrics.

  “So far, I have to agree with your musical taste.” He winks and his mouth twitches.

  “Is that so,” I reply with a poker face.

  A line appears between his brows. “I enjoy your sassy attitude, it’s quite refreshing.”

  He reaches across the table, linking his fingers with mine. I want to pull away, but I can’t. The warmth of his touch stirs chaos within me. He has no right to touch me. No right to make me feel the things I’m feeling. I should remove my hand from his, but I lack the strength.

  A song playing at a different table catches my attention. I’ll See You Again by Westlife plays softly in the distance. Tears shimmer in my eyes.

  Christian squeezes my hand. His brows draw together in a curious expression. “Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

  This is a daily struggle. I thought I could move on. Most of the time I think I can. But then there are moments like this reminding me I’m not ready.

  Pausing for a moment, I bite the inside of my cheek. “No, it’s just a special song to me.”

  Christian doesn’t push for me to elaborate. We continue to eat in silence. Wiping my mouth, I toss my napkin on top of my plate. “I should get going. It’s getting late. I have work in the morning.”

  Tonight was going great until I heard that song, then my past came crashing into the present. I shouldn’t be here. This is all wrong. I shouldn’t be enjoying the company of another man.

  Christian’s forehead creases, but he nods. “Of course, let me get the check and I’ll make sure to get you home safely.”

  Once the check is paid, we exit the diner. Pulling out my phone, I request an Uber, then slide it back in my pocket.

  Within a few minutes the car arrives. Christian takes a deep breath, looking at me intently. “Can I give you a hug good night?”

  Unable to speak past the sudden lump in my throat, I nod. He pulls me close, wrapping his strong arms around my body. He leans down, pressing his lips against my forehead, kissing me softly. I close my eyes and savor his touch.

  Christian is the only man who has kissed me in an intimate way in a very long time. This kiss wasn’t earth shattering, but it surely made me want more. My thoughts wander to what his lips would feel like against mine. Would I even enjoy it?

  Enjoying being sheltered in his embrace, I wrap my arms around his waist, snuggling tighter against his chest.

  His arms feel nice around me. A comfort I haven’t felt in a long time. For the first time in months, I feel as though light is infiltrating all the darkness I’ve endured.

  Christian leans back, his dark whiskey eyes dancing with humor. “Can I call you?”

  I step back away from his tense, hard body. My body suddenly losing warmth again.

  “You still owe me a cup of coffee.” He smiles.

  The laugh that escapes me is loud and effortless. It’s a sound I’m not familiar hearing. Shaking my head, “You and that damn cup of coffee. Yes, you can call me.”

  “Will you answer this time?”

  Lifting my shoulders, I laugh as I get into the Uber that’s just driven up. “I’ll guess you’ll have to call and see.”

  My eyes spring open to sunlight shining in through the blinds. Stretching, I reach over and grab my cell phone off the nightstand. There are several texts from Jacqueline and Lucy checking to see how things went with Christian. My cell vibrates in my hand, revealing a text from Christian.

  Christian: It was nice spending some tim
e with you last night. Hope we can do it again... Soon

  Me: I had a nice time too.

  Christian: OMG, she responds! Busy schedule this week, Doc?

  Me: Yes, my schedule is always busy.

  Christian: Do you think you can squeeze coffee in one day before work? Maybe dinner after work, one night? You tell me what’s better for you and I’ll be there.

  Me: Not sure that’s a good idea.

  Christian: Ouch, that response hurts. I think it’s a great idea.

  Me: It’s complicated.

  Christian: Only if you make it. I’m merely asking for a cup of coffee or dinner.

  Am I making things more difficult than they need to be? Am I ready for this? Not wanting to lead him on, I decline.

  Me: I think I’m going to have to decline.

  Christian: And why is that?

  Me: My life is complicated. I don’t have time to date.

  Christian: I think you told me that once. I’m choosing to ignore your NO response. What’s a man gotta do to have dinner with a beautiful woman like you?

  Me: I don’t think dinner is a good idea.

  Christian: ?

  Dinner. I can’t commit to dinner, it’s too intimate. What am I doing? Why did I even leave the bar with him?

  ‘Move on.’

  “Stop!” I yell. “Stop doing this to me. You’re supposed to tell me it’s wrong. It’s too soon. Whenever I doubt myself, you seem to encourage me to do the opposite.” The screams of frustration are at the back of my throat.

  ‘I don’t doubt your love for me, baby.’ his voice fades.

  I try to force my confused emotions into order.

  “My heart is yours,” I whisper. A war of emotions rage within me. “How can I move on when it’s not even been a year.” My voice cracks.

  My phone vibrates with another incoming text.

  Christian: Talk to me, please. Why do you think having dinner with me is not a good idea?