I have to fight the sudden urge to slide my hands down his shoulders and back. To caress his slightly rumpled hair. To cup his face. To pull him into a hug.
What the hell is wrong with me? He’s going through something hard, and I’m over here getting excited about touching him.
Having no idea what my place or purpose is in this situation, I walk back to the table and sit down in my seat. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.
After a minute, Hugh turns to look at me. “What did I do?” For the first time, his voice reflects real feeling. It sounds slightly hoarse.
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I did something. She doesn’t normally blow up that way.”
“I don’t think she’s upset about what happened at dinner.”
“I know. She’s upset that I can’t do the trip to Tuscany. But I’m swamped with work right now, and that’s the kind of trip that needs some planning.”
“Of course it does.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” He rubs at his jaw, the stubble making a scratchy sound against his hand.
“I don’t really know. She might just need some time to get over the disappointment. You could try talking to her.”
“I clearly wasn’t helping anything. Could you talk to her?”
My lips part slightly. “Me?”
“You seem good with her. She likes you.”
I’ve seen little evidence that Candice genuinely likes me—it’s more like she’s tolerated and accepted me. But I’d love to believe she actually likes me. “I’ll try if you want me to, but I think what she needs right now is you.”
I assume my words will be taken as the kind of empty advice people give all the time, but Hugh takes it seriously. He believes me.
He nods. Pushes up to his feet with a thick breath, as if the move takes effort. Then takes a step toward the hall.
Before taking another step, he turns to look down at me over his shoulder. “What should I say?”
He’s asking. It might not be my place, but he’s asking. And I have an answer to give him. “I think what she’s really upset about might be that she hasn’t spent much time with you this week. She’s only gotten to see you over dinners, and you’ve been working the rest of the time. So maybe the trip isn’t as much about going to Tuscany this weekend as it is you making focused time for her. I know you’ll need to work some this weekend, but maybe you can make some time for her in advance? She doesn’t want to feel like an afterthought.”
His eyebrows draw together in a surprised frown. “She can’t possibly think—”
“I’m sure she knows she’s not an afterthought for you, but she’s fifteen. Maybe she needs some consistent reassurance.”
I can’t believe I’ve had the courage to say such a thing. It’s definitely pushing my way into someone else’s life, and I never do that.
I just don’t.
But it feels like he needs me right now, and Candice definitely does. They don’t have anyone other than me to help them through this at the moment.
And I care about them. Both of them. Even after just a week.
I don’t want them to be unhappy.
His features twist so briefly I barely catch the shift in expression. Then he gives a slightly curt nod before he clears his throat and turns back to face the hallway.
This time, when he starts walking, he doesn’t stop until he reaches Candice’s door.
I can’t see him since the hallway is around a corner, but I hear him knock on her door. “Candice? Can I come in?”
I can’t hear her reply, but she must let him in because his voice moves out of my range of hearing.
I go back to the sink to finish doing the dishes, and then I put the leftover chicken in the refrigerator and wipe down the counter and table.
I’m finishing up when a voice behind me makes me jump. “You don’t have to cook and clean, you know.”
It’s Hugh. I whirl around and am relieved to see that his expression and his shoulders have relaxed despite the fact that he has on his grumpy expression. “I know I don’t. But I don’t like to sit around doing nothing all afternoon and evening, and there’s not much else for me to do. Anyway, I like to cook.”
“Everything you’ve made so far is really good.”
I eye him closely but as discreetly as I can. “How did it go?”
“Okay. I think. We’re going to do Tuscany next weekend, and I’m not going to work on Sunday this weekend so we can spend the day together.”
“Oh good. That sounds like a good plan. I know you must have a ton of work to do, but she probably just wants to feel like she’s important enough for you to make dedicated time for.”
“Yeah. That makes sense.” He rubs his jaw, again making that scratchy sound. “I did better at home. We had a workable schedule that both of us knew, and I felt like I could mostly stay in control of the work. But here it got dumped on me all at once. I’ve had to stand up and leave in the middle of meetings just so I could make it back in time for dinner this week.”
“Oh my goodness.”
“Italians keep a different schedule than we do. Most of them take off a couple of hours in the middle of the day, and they eat dinner much later. But I’d rather Candice keep a schedule somewhat consistent to home. And I honestly am not too excited about eating dinner at ten at night either.”
“Yeah. That makes sense. Are you working all through the midday break?”
He slants me a look that’s clearly a yes.
“And you leave before six in the morning. It seems like too much work.”
“It’s more than a one-person job.”
“My suggestion about getting some extra help appears to still be relevant.”
“Yeah. I know. I would if I could figure out what I can delegate.”
“You told me last week that you’re not good at delegating, so maybe the problem is you getting over that enough to parcel out the work.” I speak the words without thinking. Because I’m fully invested in Hugh’s fatigue and this conversation.
Then I hear what I said and how personal it sounds.
It’s really not my place to say such things.
He doesn’t appear to mind or even notice. He sighs and slants me another dry look. “Now you’re expecting me to get over lifelong bad work habits.”
A little laugh surprises me. “I’m not saying I could do it either. But it does seem like the sensible thing to do.”
“Of course it is.” He groans softly and leans back in his chair. “But if you’ve been doing everything yourself for most of your life, it’s not the easiest thing to let go of.”
“I know. I’m the same way. I just don’t have as much work dumped on me to try to handle myself.”
My comment acts as a natural transition, and Hugh jumps on the new topic as if he’s relieved to think of something else. “How has it been for you this week? Everything going okay?”
“Yes, it’s been great. It hasn’t been difficult at all, and I think Candice and I are doing fine together.”
“She really likes you.”
Hugh isn’t the only one with lifelong habits that are hard to shake. One of mine is being unable to accept compliments and kind words without offsetting them in some way. “Oh, I don’t know if she really likes me, but we’ve been getting along well enough.”