Taking a deep breath, Foreman concentrated as hard as he could on Amber's apology. She met his eyes, her fingers tightening slightly around his, and she sounded as direct and honest as she ever had. A brief thought crossed his mind--that Amber might have practised sincerity on the road to being the proud manipulator she was today. But if he started thinking like that, he might as well break things off with her right now. Harbouring suspicions wouldn't be fair to either of them. If he didn't trust her, then he didn't trust her; there'd be no use pretending. A couple of days ago, when Amber had protested that she'd never wanted to hurt him, over other arguments and misunderstandings, she'd been no less honest than now. Foreman dipped his chin, relaxing, glancing at her face from under his bowed head. The damn metaphor sounded even more stupid when she elaborated on it, but Foreman pushed past it. He wasn't going to bring it up again, and try to define their entire relationship in terms of the figurative bees they swatted together; he couldn't imagine anything more likely to make him wince in embarrassment every time. It had served its purpose and now they could drop it.
He watched Amber's hands as she clasped his between hers. Her fingers were ruddy with the cold, but she'd been willing to stand out in the dark until she'd figured out what he was asking for. Foreman shouldn't be demanding why she couldn't figure it out on her own. For the moment, he'd rather be grateful that she hadn't spurned even that tiny concession. It didn't make him feel much better about that moment when he'd realized what she'd done, but it helped ease him out of the tension the argument had left him with for the past forty-eight hours. He wanted to return Amber's smile, but he settled for straightening his shoulders and clearing his lungs with another deep breath of the crisp air. "I'll see you there," he said. It wasn't much of a promise, but it felt like the first one in a couple of days that he knew they'd both be following through on.
Like he'd said, they'd nearly reached his car, and Foreman only had to take a few steps, glancing once over his shoulder at Amber before getting in. The engine warmed the car quickly, though Mickey's was close enough that he still felt cold by the time he parked and got out. He jogged a few steps to get inside, and picked a booth over the waitress's shoulder before she could lead him to somewhere near the kitchen or the bathrooms. Maybe Amber was rubbing off on him, or maybe--alone, Foreman was able to chuckle--he just didn't want her to make a damn production about the two of them sitting down for coffee. He'd had enough of that. The booth was near a heater, and right near the waitress's usual route through the diner: they'd be warm, and the service would be good. Amber would appreciate it.
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He watched Amber's hands as she clasped his between hers. Her fingers were ruddy with the cold, but she'd been willing to stand out in the dark until she'd figured out what he was asking for. Foreman shouldn't be demanding why she couldn't figure it out on her own. For the moment, he'd rather be grateful that she hadn't spurned even that tiny concession. It didn't make him feel much better about that moment when he'd realized what she'd done, but it helped ease him out of the tension the argument had left him with for the past forty-eight hours. He wanted to return Amber's smile, but he settled for straightening his shoulders and clearing his lungs with another deep breath of the crisp air. "I'll see you there," he said. It wasn't much of a promise, but it felt like the first one in a couple of days that he knew they'd both be following through on.
Like he'd said, they'd nearly reached his car, and Foreman only had to take a few steps, glancing once over his shoulder at Amber before getting in. The engine warmed the car quickly, though Mickey's was close enough that he still felt cold by the time he parked and got out. He jogged a few steps to get inside, and picked a booth over the waitress's shoulder before she could lead him to somewhere near the kitchen or the bathrooms. Maybe Amber was rubbing off on him, or maybe--alone, Foreman was able to chuckle--he just didn't want her to make a damn production about the two of them sitting down for coffee. He'd had enough of that. The booth was near a heater, and right near the waitress's usual route through the diner: they'd be warm, and the service would be good. Amber would appreciate it.