Leaving Normal Stef Holm (classic literature books TXT) 📖

language, her posture. "Uh, I didn't get a chance to tell you thanks for staying with me."

"No thanks necessary."

"Well, I go back to work on Monday. I am so ready." She gave a half laugh. "I'm going stir-crazy in here. I shouldn't be driving because of my stitches, but I'm half tempted to go for it and head up to the grocery store just to look at the produce or something—anything but staring at these four walls."

"I thought that's how you'd feel. Get your coat."

She questioned him with a tilt of her head. "Coat?"

"You're coming with me and Parker. We're headed out for pizza."

"But I—"

"I'm thinking your coat is in that closet by the stairs." He moved past her, let himself inside. Her house was warm, the air smelling like spices from something that had been baking, and another fragrance—it was the flowers on the kitchen table. A huge bouquet of them.

He picked out a camel-colored hooded coat, one with fur on the trim, held it out for her to put on. "Parker's waiting, so let's go."

"But I'm wearing sweats and I—"

"And you look great," he said, sticking one of her arms in the sleeves, then the other. "Get your purse and keys, lock the front door. We're going to Chuck E. Cheese's."

"Chuck E. Cheese's? I haven't been there since Cassie turned ten."

He grinned. "Then you're long overdue."

Without further protest she grabbed her belongings, closed up the house and walked with Tony across the street.

Once there, he said, "Parker, this is Natalie."

The little girl replied with a beauty-queen wave. "Hi."

"Hi, Parker." Natalie climbed up into the high truck, sitting in the passenger seat while Parker slid into the middle. "How are you?"

"Hungry."

"Me, too, actually." Natalie's eyebrows rose. "Now that I think about it, pizza sounds great."

"I like plain cheese," Parker stated.

"Well, of course. That's what my daughter likes, too."

"How old is she?"

Tony watched Natalie's expression alter from relaxed to a controlled smile. "Eighteen."

"She's old." Parker opened a CD case. "My mom's twenty-seven. How old are you?"

Tony could have waylaid that personal question, told Parker it wasn't something you asked an adult, but he wanted Natalie to respond—even though he knew the answer. It would do her good to say it in front of him, and say it often so she knew that it wasn't an issue for him.

Plastering a smile on her mouth, she replied, "Forty-three."

"You don't look it," Tony said, turning over the ig-nition, taking the CD from Parker and slipping it into the player.

"Thank you," she murmured as the music came on, LeAnn Rimes singing her heart out.

For most of the drive, Natalie gazed intermittently out the window while Parker talked a mile a minute. Occasionally, Natalie would smile and add a comment, express her opinion.

Tony slid his gaze across the seat toward Natalie, took in her profile and pensively thought about what it was that made him comfortable with her, made him want to get to know her better.

Driving along Fairview Avenue, Tony was well aware of emotions that were normal after a divorce— feelings of setback, unworthiness, even loneliness. He had tried to put the lonely times from his mind, keeping himself busy on the job or around the house, hanging out with Rocky. He'd repainted his bedroom, bought new sheets, a duvet cover and pillows. The room was masculine now in rich tones of olive, brown and black. He liked it, liked what it stood for. Independence.

He sensed Natalie valued her independence as well, but on many levels they were both fighting long nights in beds without someone beside them to make the days seem fuller, the quiet hours bearable.

It wasn't as if he couldn't live by himself. He had no problem with that. He had just been thinking that he had been alone even when he was sleeping beside Kim. And there was nothing more lonely than being alone with someone. In retrospect, his empty feelings had been building for the past year, and had been a long time coming.

Maybe he'd worked through the divorce issues faster than most because he'd had a head start putting things behind him while he was still in the middle of being married. Who was to say? He didn't want to get too circumspect about it. Shit happened in life. His life was moving in a new direction now.

He slid another glance at Natalie. Her lips were set together, her nose tilted, and her jaw was set in a resolute manner. She was proud. He always sensed she was a strong woman. That was confirmed the day she told him they'd found a problem on her mammogram. She hadn't fallen apart, cried or gotten hysterical.

He had spent the last couple of weeks with her on his mind, catching himself in situations at the firehouse, doing something and pausing, Natalie's words or her face or her expression coming into play in his head. He was in the station kitchen the other day, the guys having put on a pot of chili, and he recalled putting soup in a cup for Natalie and taking it upstairs to her.

That she popped into his thoughts without warning said something to him. He was attracted to her maturity, her openness to discuss most any subject and her intelligence. Comparing her to women his own age, she was emotionally more stable than most he knew. Plus, she was sexy as all hell.

He liked her. There was no doubting that at all. Maybe he liked her too much for his own good.

He knew about the rebound woman a man was supposed to hook up with after a divorce, then figure out she was all wrong for him, move on and get real for something else more serious. He hadn't dated much since the divorce, if at all. The Valentine's auction was the closest he'd come to spending time with a woman for any length of time, but he'd realized after a few hours that Sophia only wanted him for sex and nothing else.

Not that there