He glanced at her over the menu, but her attention was on the people in the distance. Her plain white sundress hugged her chest and hips, flaring out in a skirt that stopped at her knees. She’d put her hair up in a loose knot and applied a minimal amount of makeup. Or Lacey had applied it for her, since his future sister-in-law had been at the guesthouse when he’d arrived to pick up Faith.
Whatever the subtle difference was, it made her eyes stand out. They took up most of her face as it was. The dusk was doing something to her skin, which appeared even softer than usual. Her freckles were barely noticeable. Around her long, elegant neck was a chain, the one she never took off. The low dip of her dress allowed him to see the charm. Little silver wings. Just wings. Interesting.
When she smiled at a family with a couple of toddlers, he wondered how he’d ever thought her plain.
The waiter came and asked for a drink order.
“I haven’t even looked at the menu,” she said. “I’m sorry. Just water for me, please.”
“Do you drink wine?” He felt blind not knowing anything about her past or if she had any limitations from her medical condition.
“I could. I don’t know anything about wine, though.”
Okay, this he could handle. He gave the request for a sauvignon blanc from a California vineyard he recognized and waited until the waiter left before addressing her. She hadn’t wanted to talk about her past before, but they knew each other a little better now. He had the suspicion he’d need to tread carefully with Faith. Whatever led her to Wilmington didn’t appear to be altogether pleasant.
He glanced at the pendant. “Why the wings?”
Her gaze dropped, and with a reflex he’d seen often, she clutched the pendant and slid it back and forth on the chain. “I saw it in a jewelry store and it reminded me of my sister.”
The sister he wasn’t supposed to know about because Faith never mentioned her. Yet he’d seen the photo Lacey took. Saying something might ruin Lacey’s surprise painting or break Faith’s trust. “I thought you were an only child.”
Her small hand released the necklace as she looked away, smoothing her napkin over her lap. “She died several years ago from cancer.”
Platitudes never made the grieving feel better, so he didn’t offer one. “What was her name?”
“Hope.”
“Faith and Hope. That’s cute.” Finally, her honey gaze returned to his, and the sorrow etched in her eyes was gutting. “Was she younger or older?”
“She was older by three and a half years.”
“Does this bother you? Talking about her?”
She appeared to mull that over for several moments, eventually shaking her head. The waiter arrived with their wine and they ordered their meal. Alec hoped the interruption wouldn’t break their conversation. Though hesitant, she was finally answering questions.
Alone once more, he asked, “What kind of cancer did she have?”
She cleared her throat. “A rare form of leukemia called myelogenous. It affects the white blood cells in bone marrow. Survival rates aren’t high with that kind of cancer. She was diagnosed at age two, but lived until she was twenty, and it was a blessing to have her that long, considering. There were periods where she didn’t require treatment, and we thought . . .” Her lids lowered in a slow blink.
His hand settled over hers on the table. “I’m sorry. We can talk about something else.”
“No, it’s fine.” Her gaze held his and she offered a weak smile. “Honestly, I don’t get to talk about Hope very often.”
“Why not?”
She stared down at their joined hands, where he rubbed small circles over the soft skin of her inner wrist. “My parents took her death very hard.”
Were there no friends? Other family? Certainly she had other people in her life. Then again, no one had dropped by since she’d moved, nor had she left to visit anyone.
“I’m not terribly close with my parents. Around the time Hope died, I went to college nearby, but didn’t live in the dorms. After I graduated, I stayed at home, thinking they needed me.”
He felt a but in there somewhere. What kind of parents didn’t want their kid around? Especially after losing another so young. No way was Faith a problem child or a black sheep. If anything, she was the over-accommodating type. “Tell me about your sister. What was she like?”
The smile that split her face was genuine and hit him right in the center of his chest.
Removing her hand from his, she rested her chin in her palm and stared over his shoulder. “Everyone loved Hope. She was the life of any get-together. She was always smiling, making friends. It was hard not to love her. Even when she was sick, she’d find the strength to ask me about school or what happened in my day.” She sighed. “I miss that most. Someone asking how my day went.”
A hollow pang smacked his ribs and he stilled. Did she have no one? At all? He thought back to their scattered conversations and came up blank. No mention of anyone. Her sometimes socially awkward behavior and the shock whenever someone included her was starting to make sense. Faith wasn’t particularly shy or reserved or traditional. She wasn’t uncomfortable with attention. She’d just never had any. She sought acceptance.
Dear Christ. What the hell was he supposed to do with her? With this knowledge?
“How was your day?” he rasped.
Slowly, her gaze slid over to his, and damn if the sentiment in her eyes didn’t undo him. “It was pretty great, actually. Thank you.”
He nodded. Swallowed hard.
They sat in silence until the waiter brought their food. She ordered grilled salmon and steamed vegetables over brown rice. He looked down at his crab cakes and asparagus spears drowning in sauce.
She took a bite of her fish. “What about you? You don’t seem close with your parents, based on what you said the other day.”
“I’m very close with my mother and Jake. Dad’s just . . .” He fumbled for the right word. “Weird, I guess. I get the feeling he’s disappointed in me. Regardless, I love them to death.”
The fork paused halfway to her mouth. “After all your success? I find it hard to believe he’s disappointed.”
He shrugged. “I made a lot of bad choices along the way. He built his landscaping business from nothing. Blue collar through and through. I don’t think he knew what to do with me, being the creative type.”
She pushed the food around her plate, avoiding eye contact. Once again, he was floored by her lack of inquisition. She didn’t ask, though he could tell she wanted to. For the first time in . . . well, ever, he wanted to talk. To have someone know what his life entailed and share his mistakes. Someone like Faith would understand, not judge.
“I can hear your unasked questions from over here.”
Her eyes smiled even though her mouth didn’t. “I wasn’t going to ask you anything. I was just thinking that you’re human. People make bad decisions all the time.”
Maybe she did get it, more than he would’ve guessed. “Why aren’t you asking me what mistakes I made?”
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip. She took a sip of wine before answering, choosing her words carefully. “A few days ago, you said you couldn’t do commitment. I’m assuming that hasn’t changed.” Her eyes lifted to his. “I figure you’ll tell me when and if you’re ready.”
“That’s it?”
She nodded, closed her eyes, then shook her head. “What are we doing here, Alec?”
“Eating. Some of us more than others.” He nodded to her plate, of which she had yet to take more than a few bites.
“Kissing me was a mistake. Your words, not mine.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and crowding her. “I make my living by words, Faith. I repeat, it wasn’t a mistake. I said kissing you made me feel like shit. Because of those choices mentioned earlier. But for the life of me, I can’t seem to stay away from you. Regardless of how bad an idea this is, and regardless of why I know I can’t.”