Rolling in the Deep by Rebecca Rogers Maher Read Free Book Online

sliding into the booth. She’s wearing jeans and the light blue sweater she wore to work today. It’s even better without a uniform vest buttoned over it.
    We stare at each other for a while—both a little breathless, which is understandable under the circumstances. There’s a lot to say in a situation like this, an infinite number of words to exchange. We should probably start talking to each other about what happened. How we feel. What we’re going to do.
    But the fact is, I can’t get a single articulate word out.
    The waitress stops at the table with a carafe of coffee and Holly nods, inching her cup over.
    When she’s gone, Holly adds milk, stirs, and pushes the mug aside. She covers her face with her hands and lets out a little shriek. And then we both start giggling like kids. Quietly at first. But when we look at each other and try to speak, nothing coherent comes out.
    “Hol—”
    “Oh my—”
    “What are we—”
    It’s funnier each time we try and fail, and soon we’re both hysterical, struggling mightily to keep it quiet, and failing at that, too. People start looking over at us and we try shushing each other but that only makes it worse.
    “Holly.”
    She flops her arms onto the table, face pressed against her hand, and shakes visibly with laughter.
    “Holly, seriously.”
    She peeks up at me. Her face is bright red. Her eyes are so clear and blue it almost stops my heart, which is beating wildly enough as it is. I wipe the tears from my eyes and, tentatively, reach out and touch the tips of her fingers.
    She doesn’t hesitate. Her fingers turn and wrap around mine.
    The contact sobers both of us. Warm skin against skin. She clasps my hand and looks fully into my eyes, and I feel her breathing.
    “Ray, what is happening?”
    I run my fingers over her palm, over the back of her strong hand. Adrenaline whistles through my body. It courses through me and into her, and back again, a closed circuit of energy. I can’t look at her and hold her hand at the same time. It’s too much.
    I let go and press my palms flat against the table, because we need to talk now. It’s what we came here to do. I can’t let myself be distracted by…I don’t know what.
    But that’s a lie. I know exactly what.
    I want her. I want to kiss her. To take her clothes off. To make love to her.
    It’s the surreal quality of the situation that’s fast-forwarded everything in my mind. That’s brought me to this place so quickly. I’ve known her for, what—a month and a half? As a coworker. Not even as a friend, let alone a boyfriend.
    It’s not the time for thinking about sex. She’s freaked out enough already. I’m freaked out enough.
    I want some kind of release for all this panic and exhilaration, but flooding it into Holly would unhinge both of us. I know that. I sit back, trying to get a little space from her in the cramped booth. Her knee bumps into mine and I almost jump out of my skin.
    “What’s happening,” I say, fighting for focus, “is we just won a shitload of money. We won it, Holly.”
    “That’s crazy.”
    I laugh, briefly. “Yeah. It’s crazy.”
    “It changes everything.”
    I seize on to that, wrapping my fingers around the tepid coffee cup to stop myself from taking her hand again. “What does it change?”
    She gazes at me steadily. Tears spring to her eyes, but I don’t think they’re from laughing now. “Everything.”
    “What will you do?”
    “Well.” She clears her throat. “First I’ll look up Stacey Brody from middle school who made fun of my knockoff sneakers and tell her I’m a millionaire now and she can suck my dick.”
    I snort. “Multimillionaire, you mean.”
    Her eyes widen. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. That means I can buy like fifteen Lexuses.”
    “Why stop at fifteen?”
    Her face softens. “My son.”
    “Drew.”
    She smiles. “Do you know what I can do for him now?”
    I breathe in deeply, and think about how this must feel to her, as a mother.