"Look, don't get me wrong! I know there is no tomorrow"

~ All I Ask (25)

, right before you left," I answered him in a much quieter tone. He gave a sharp nod, motioning for me to elaborate. I sighed. "I declined when you offered lunch and I guess I regretted that afterwards. It's been bothering me more than it should, more than I had expected it to."

I had spoken without second thought, just letting my feeling out on the table. If I was going to talk to him, I can't lie. He has this look in his eyes when he looks into mine, like he can tell that I'm anxious, nervous of what he'd think. It like he knows every emotion that courses through me. It's surprising and refreshing. Not many people can read me. Not even my daughter.

His reaction wasn't what I thought it'd be though. He didn't look angry, he rather looked shocked, maybe even intrigued. "I didn't know you felt that way."

I let out a small breath of relief at the easiness in his voice. "That makes two of us," I lightly chuckled. "I'm sorry."

His eyebrows furrowed. "For what? Declining my offer?" I nodded and he looked ready to laugh me out the door. "Love, you don't need to worry about that."

My breath caught in my throat as the word 'love' spilled from his lips so easily. Of course I knew the endearment word was a casually and regularly used term by some, but the fact that it was coming from Harold and directed towards me did unexplainable things to my heart. "Well, I'm sorry anyway. I shouldn't have been so rude."

He shook his head. "Stop apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Are you sure?" I asked, still not convinced. I feel like I would've been a bit upset if someone had declined me in the harsh way I'd do so to Harold. I know I'd been harsh, I knew as I was doing it. I just don't understand why he wasn't affected by it.

You're decades his senior and he's more mature than you. Nice.

While my subconscious continued to condemn my thoughts, Harold reached for my hand and lightly grasped it. My breath hitched and I actually stopped breathing for a brief moment. My eyes rose from the table cloth to his bright eyes that held warmth so great, I felt as though I was getting a glimpse of paradise. "What happened after we got out of the elevator isn't something you need to keep feeling bad for, love. It didn't hurt my feelings. I'll admit that I was a bit taken back, but I also understood where you were coming from. So, please, stop apologizing for something you didn't do wrong."

My mouth gaped open in a shocked state that I couldn't bring myself out of. I was staring at him. I knew I was. But I couldn't help it. Everything he'd said washed away the guilt that had been eating me up and suddenly my shoulders felt tons lighter. I finally breathed and looked away from his eyes and at our hands that were locked in a soft grasp.

"Then let me do something for you that'll make me feel good about what happened that day," I said, willing myself to look back up into his intent eyes.

He tilted his head. "Adele, you real-"

"I know, I know what you said," I interrupted, pleading him with my eyes, "but I want to do this. Please let me."

He sighed and shook his head. "I just don't want you to feel bad about something non-problematic."

I smiled and closed my eyes for a short moment. He was being thoughtful and I truly appreciated that, more than he would ever know. "I'm not feeling bad anymore. That ended a while ago. I just want to do this for you."

His hand twitched in mine, which resulted in my heart picking up its pace. His eyes narrowed and he asked, "Why you want to do something for me so badly?"

I immediately opened my mouth to respond, because I thought I had the perfect answer. But I realized then that I had no rational answer. I couldn't tell him of why I wanted to do this. Imagine his reaction to, "there's something about you that reminds me of life I left behind. A life I want back. A life I would do almost anything to regain"; he would run shitted.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I shook my hand from under his, instantly feeling an unwelcoming coldness, and crossed my arms. I let out a large breath of mixed emotions, hoping that was enough for an answer.

"Adele?"

"Hmm?"

"You haven't exactly answered my question, you know?" He replied with a hint of humor, which was way more than what I'd expected.

I looked up and saw him leaning closer, his eyes still a land of questions filled with uncertainty. "I know. I'm sorry."

As soon as I'd spoke, he closed his eyes and let out a sharp breath. "I just don't understand why you keep apologizing. I asked you a simple question, Elle. Why can't you just give it to me straight?"

I blinked exactly seven times after hearing him speak as if blinking that many times would somehow clear my mind. But then he opened his eyes and he seemed so sad. Not just because I'm being an idiot, but because of so much more. More than what I've dealt with. More than what I could ever imagine. Which is saying a lot, because my life has put me through situations that sometimes made me question if all this was even worth it, especially if it never ends. But Harold. God, Harold. There was something in the way his eyes darkened and opened to a world that seemed so drowning and empty.

He looked absolutely exhausted and seeing that just made me spill everything. I bit the inside of my bottom lips and reached for his hand, gripping it tightly as if it were my lifeline. Honestly with the choice I've made, it probably is. "I didn't mean to be so confusing. But, I do have an answer for you. I...Whenever I'm close to you or whenever I look into your eyes, there's this sense of familiarity that I can't shake off. And it bothers me. It bothered me in that elevator. It bothered me this past week. And it's driving me crazy right now. I don't know what it is. I can't understand it. I feel like I've met you before, gotten to know you more than I have now. And it's scary because I'm one hundred percent sure I've never met you before. Yet I feel like I know you," I almost laughed at how pathetic I sounded towards the end, "You must think I'm stupid."

I felt him squeeze my hand tighter, and I refocused on him, finding the courage to try and read his reaction to what I'd just said. His eyes were wide, his eyes lighter with a sense of lightness. "I don't think you're stupid, love. That was the farthest thing from stupid. That was quite brave."

I laughed; I had to. "Hmm. Maybe. But you have to admit, it's crazy."

He shrugged and smiled. "You know what else's crazy?"

"What?"

His smile widened. "This."