Seneca wasn't going to meet Godwin at the park by her work at 8 pm for dinner, and that was that. So, obviously, it didn't matter that there was a 20 minute bus ride each way, and a ten minute walk from the stop to plan for if she was going to be on time. And she most definitely didn't need to stress about what to wear, since she was going to stay home tonight. She wasn't going, so obviously she put on the pleated black skirt that cut away just below her knees and her favorite heather gray top that teased her cleavage.
Nope, she wasn't going, because that would be weird, and it would be cheating, and she wasn't either of those. Except, somehow she found herself back in her little city sanctuary at a quarter to eight, making a bee-line to their bench, so excited she could barely contain herself.
Not their bench, her bench. This was not their bench, because they were two strangers, and co-claiming a bench with him probably crossed some grey line in the cheating book, and obviously she couldn't cheat with Godwin because she already had a fiance.
The thought of being Chip's fiance made her want to throw up. Why'd she let Godwin talk her into going there tomorrow? He was bad for her, she should leave. She shouldn't have come. She sat down, then stood up, then sat down again, smoothing her skirt over her legs.
Her heart disagreed with her head, as it often did. She sighed. What was she doing here? This was a bad idea. What was it about Godwin that eroded her defenses? How did he make her heart beat so strong?
All that, and she couldn't stop obsessing about what he would taste like.
She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Struggling with her emotions, she stood up, and she was definitely going to leave this time.
"Good evening, my lady," Godwin said from behind her. She turned and Godwin appeared out of nowhere. Her heart climbed into her throat and stayed there for a few seconds. "My apologies," he said with a chuckle and a slight bow, "It was not my intention to startle you."
"You didn't," she lied automatically. "I was just..."
He smiled and she relaxed despite herself. "Of course not," he said, accepting her lie just as easily. "You honor me tonight. I am truly grateful to see you again."
He reached for her hand and she was too stunned to react. His touch was electric, and the kiss he laid on the back of her hand made her knees weak. "It's nothing," she dismissed. He still held her hand, she realized, but she couldn't seem to pull away. "I was going out anyway."
Godwin smiled again, covering her hand with his other one. His hands were really warm. "Of course. It is a beautiful night, and you are stunning in your element."
She blushed hard, looking away, her hand still clasped between his. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.
The park was a horse of a different color at night, she'd never been here in the dark before since she stick around after work. Her little oasis was stunning at night, filled with small solar lights along the path she'd never noticed in the daylight. Tiny solar LED lights weaved through the limbs of the maple tree like a hundred white fireflies. A pleasant breeze brought her Godwin's vanilla scent, which completed the perfection of the moment.
"I never knew..." she whispered, trying hard to memorize the scene.
At some point, Godwin had moved closer to her, and he now stood less than an arm's length away. "What did you never know?" he asked, his voice soft, as if he were trying not to break the magic.
She turned away from the garden to look at him. The soft lights caught his eyes in a way that seemed to make them glow. "I never it was so beautiful at night. I absolutely love it, I really do. This place... It's special to me. It's my secret garden, even though it's not mine, and it's not really a secret."
He chuckled. A wave of peacefulness passed through her, rooting her to the ground, enmeshing her with the garden. This was where she was supposed to be, she realized, relaxing into the moment.
"I know," he said, close to her. She wanted him closer, but also appreciated him respecting her personal space. They stood together, just watching the garden for a time. The peace she felt allowed her to just be, to just exist in the moment, something her adopted mother Kennedy had always tried to teach her, but she'd failed to understand. Until now. The world was right, just for now, as she stood in her garden with Godwin.
Eventually she turned away, having imprinted it in time into her mind for future reference. "Thank you, Godwin. This," she motioned around the park, "I needed this."
His smile radiated his joy, and she wondered if he'd planned this all. "You are quite welcome," he replied, bowing a little. She couldn't help herself as she laughed, he was just so old fashioned. She didn't know how to handle it, but she quite liked it.
Godwin had on a suit, because of course he did. Tonight's suit was pale, indistinguishable color in the dim lighting, and it accented his body in all the right ways. They had to be tailored. He had a trilby again, too, the same shade as his suit. A dark scarf, perhaps black, was tucked into his jacket, and the ribbon around the trilby matched it.
He leaned heavily on his cane, his left hand wrapped around it firmly. She couldn't help her gaze as it lingered on the three scars that furrowed the back of his hand. They were less visible under the dim lighting, but her eyes were drawn to them. "We should sit down," she said.
He shifted to his other foot, following her gaze, then sighed. "This?" he asked, looking down at his hand. He ran his fingers over the scars. "You did ask before. I received these as a warning. They are one reason why I no longer reside in my homelands. These scars, they remind me of what I have lost, mistakes I have made."
"Was it an accident?" she asked. She took a step forward and her hand moved on its own. Before she could touch him he pulled back, his good hand closed over the scarred one.
"No, it was no accident," he growled. He was suddenly angry, and perhaps with anyone else she would have backed off. She knew she was safe with him, so she didn't. Her lack of caution around him was ridiculous, she knew it was, but it didn't matter.
So stupid. She was an idiot, allowing herself to be swayed by Godwin.
She moved his hand, the unscarred one, and he didn't fight her. The thrill that raced through her had her realizing that this was the first time she'd intentionally touched him. His skin was warm under her fingers, like hot desert sand, pleasant and smooth. She could feel his quicksilver eyes on her, watching her as she inspected his scars.
The scars ran in parallel tracks across the back of his hand. She'd been wrong earlier in the day when she thought there were only three. There were four, running from his thumb to the other side of the back of his hand. He shuddered slightly as she traced them with her fingers. His gaze set her heart racing.
"What did this to you?" she asked, running her fingers over the raised scar tissue again. The scars felt nice under her fingertips, and that he shivered each time she traced them made it that much better. After a few seconds he placed his hand over hers, stopping her.
"Not what. Who. It was... It was someone I once considered a friend." He shook his head, squeezing her hand under his. "It matters not, Seneca Mahon. We are not here to talk of the past. I wish to sup with you, if it pleases you, so that we may begin to know one another." His voice was soft, but firm. He didn't want to talk about it.
She thought about rebutting him, pointing out that if he wanted them to get to know each other, talking about the past was exactly what they should be doing. She let it drop, though, feeling the tension in his hand.
Her guilt took the time to remind her that shouldn't be holding hands with him, touching him so intimately when she had a fiance. She jerked her hand away, then clasped them together behind her back where they could cause no more trouble.
The smallest look of displeasure crossed his face before he hid it, and she wasn't sure if she'd imagined it or not. It bothered her, that she might be the cause of it, that she'd disappointed him somehow.
Godwin's eyes went distant as he traced his scars."Godwin?" she asked, tapping him lightly on his forearm. His suit was possibly the softest material she'd ever felt made into a suit, and her fingers lingered breath longer than they should've.
He shook his head as if he were waking from a dream. "My apologies. It is so very rude of me, to be lost in my memories. Please forgive me?"
"Does it bother you?"
He nodded. A moment passed between them.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, for no other reason than she didn't know what else to say.
He glanced at her, half a smile on his lips. "Were you hungry?" he asked, turning away.
"Um, I could eat. Where did you wanna go? To eat, I mean?" she asked, following his gaze.
"If it was not too forward, I thought perhaps we could picnic here. I brought provisions." His breath caught, and she could tell he cared about her answer.
"That sounds perfect!" she said, excited about the prospect. "Absolutely perfect."
His smile sent a thrill of pleasure to her belly. He gestured regally to their bench, but led her past it to a lush grassy spot just behind it. He lit with electric Coleman lanterns on either side, revealing a deep red blanket with a small tray in the center. There were two white boxes, a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses on the tray.
"Did I say it sounded perfect? Godwin, this is so perfect!" She couldn't help the happy butterflies dancing in her stomach, and she found that she didn't want to.
"I am glad you find it acceptable. I-"
She cut him off, turning back to grab his hand. She pulled him towards the picnic he had set up for them, unable to hide her excitement. "Acceptable? Not even close! This is... I mean, this is the absolute best, Godwin. No one has never, ever, ever, ever, ever done anything like this for me. No one has ever done anything this nice for me," she said. She stopped talking, growing overly emotional.
She forced the tears down, placing them in that blackness deep inside of her. She wasn't sure if the tears were from happiness or regret, but she wasn't weak, and she sure as hell wouldn't cry in front of him. There was no way she'd let him see how pathetic she really was.
He motioned for her to sit, waiting until she was sitting before settling down across from her. He struggled for a moment with his stiff left leg, making her wonder if this injury was related to the scars on his hand. She wouldn't ruin the evening by asking, though, he was obviously sensitive about it.
"Why do you do that, Seneca?" he asked as he passed a box over to her, then took the other one for himself.
