(Lilac's POV)
The night was quiet, too quiet. The only sound was the soft clink of glass as I placed the bottle of wine on the table between us. Tom was sitting across from me, looking tired but still so undeniably handsome. The shadows from the dim lighting in his living room made him appear more somber than usual. It was clear to me now, more than ever, that Tom needed someone. Not just anyone. He needed me.
I could feel the weight of the silence pressing on both of us, but I didn't let it faze me. This was my chance. I had learned, over the last few months, that he had a tendency to withdraw into himself when he was alone. And, though I was sure he didn't want to admit it, he was still grieving—his wife's absence was a wound that hadn't quite healed. But I knew, deep down, that tonight was going to be different.
I had done my research. I had listened to my uncle's offhand comments, to the way Tom spoke about wine—his preference for reds, the way he'd savor a glass after dinner. I'd made sure to bring his favorite, a bottle of rich, full-bodied red that was sure to loosen him up. After all, what better way to break the tension than a little liquid courage?
The first glass was poured. I slid it across the table to him, watching carefully as his fingers brushed against mine. He didn't pull away. That was good.
"Here," I said softly, offering him a warm smile. "This should help you relax. It's good, I promise."
Tom took the glass, eyeing it for a moment before taking a slow sip. I noticed the way his lips parted slightly as he tasted the wine, his eyes closing for a brief moment, savoring the warmth of the drink. He looked back up at me, offering a faint smile.
"That's good," he murmured, then took another sip.
I smiled back, but inside, I was already planning my next move.
"Another glass?" I asked sweetly, my voice soft and inviting. "You've had a long day, Tom. A little more won't hurt. I think you deserve it."
He hesitated, glancing at the bottle before meeting my eyes. "I'm not sure," he said, his tone guarded. "I'm not really a heavy drinker, Lilac."
"Just one more, I promise," I coaxed, my voice laced with gentle persuasion. "It'll help you sleep better tonight."
His eyes flickered to the glass in his hand, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse. But then he sighed and nodded. "Alright. Just one more."
I poured the second glass for him, this time more generous, letting it fill to the brim. As I slid it toward him, I caught the faintest glimmer of hesitation in his eyes. But this time, it was different. The weight of the alcohol, the slight flush that was beginning to stain his cheeks, told me he was beginning to relax.
We sat in silence for a while, the tension between us simmering beneath the surface. But now, with the wine beginning to take effect, I noticed something in Tom. A slight loosening in his posture. A subtle shift in his gaze. The stoic, grieving man was starting to slip away, replaced by something else—something more vulnerable. And that was exactly what I wanted.
I took a sip from my own glass, letting the warmth settle in my chest as I watched him. I had to be careful now, precise in my movements. Tom needed to feel at ease, but not so at ease that he forgot who I was to him. He needed to see me as someone who understood him, someone who could offer him comfort.
"You know," I began, my voice soft but steady, "I really admire how strong you've been through everything. I can't even imagine what it's been like for you, losing her."
Tom looked down at his glass, his fingers gently tracing the rim. There was a sadness in his eyes, a familiar ache that I had seen countless times before. "It's been… hard," he said quietly, his voice low and raw. "I don't know if I'll ever really get over it."
I nodded, taking another sip, then moved closer, my body language slow, deliberate. "I think that's okay," I said, leaning in slightly, "to not be over it. But you don't have to do this alone. Not anymore."
He didn't respond right away, but I could see his eyes softening. The wine was taking hold of him now, just enough to make him relax, to make him open up. This was my moment.
"You know," I said with a slight smirk, "it's been a while since you've had any real company, hasn't it?"
Tom met my gaze again, his lips curling into a faint smile. "I suppose so," he murmured.
I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Well, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."
The air between us thickened. I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the soft tremor in his hand as he reached for his third glass of wine. This time, he didn't hesitate, taking a generous gulp, as if he needed it to steady himself.
I watched him closely. His face was flushed now, his movements slower, more languid. The man who had once been so careful, so reserved, was beginning to let go. It was exactly what I needed.
"I've missed spending time with you like this," I murmured, my words low and intimate. "Just the two of us."
Tom met my gaze, his pupils slightly dilated, the effects of the alcohol beginning to cloud his judgment. His lips parted as if he were about to say something, but he stopped himself, his breath coming in shallow bursts. I saw it then, that flicker of desire—the same look I had seen in his eyes before, but now, more potent.
"Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You've been a good friend to me, Lilac. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome, Tom," I replied softly, my hand moving slowly to rest on the table between us, just inches from his. "But I think you need more than just friendship, don't you?"
For a moment, Tom didn't speak. He just looked at me, his expression unreadable. But his fingers twitched slightly, as though they were tempted to reach for mine. And that, I knew, was the moment I had been waiting for.
I let my hand linger on the table, close enough for him to feel the heat of my touch without quite touching him. He was so close to the edge now, so close to giving in. The question was no longer if he would, but when.
And when the time came, I would be ready.