I cleared my throat. “What’s in the bag?”
My eyes softened at the unexpected gesture, a gesture that a man like him seemed incapable of making. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” His fingers rested on the back of the couch, close enough they could touch my hair if they wanted, but they stayed put. “We can talk about it or not talk about it. I’m here either way.”
“I don’t understand…” I remembered our first conversation in that bar, remembered looking into those startling blue eyes like it had just happened. The way his voice had sounded over the quiet noise of the piano, his confident aura. “You aren’t a nice guy, but you’re being awfully nice to me.”
He didn’t say anything to that, just continued to stare at me like I’d never said anything.
I didn’t dig deeper. “He hurt me first
