Her round chin pointed down again. Sadness filling her. Perhaps it was an off day. Everyone had them. Prying would not make it better.
“We should celebrate,” I said. “Get cocktails and dinner as a toast to your grand achievement. We could find an open mic and read the whole thing aloud.”
A smile finally cracked her face. That was what I was searching for.
“They’d kick us off the stage,” she said.
“Only if we’re wasted.”
“To do that, I wouldhaveto be wasted.”
“Tonight, then,” I said. It had nothing to do with the fact that it also happened to be my birthday. With each passing year, I cared less and less about the day. But being with Mara would be a good way to enjoy myself. To forget that I was forty-three and considering a new career path.
She shook her head. “Plans with mom. I can’t put it off again.”
I understood that. Family came first. “Tomorrow then.”
“Actually,” she sat up, leaning forward in her seat, “Do you want to come tonight? She might enjoy meeting you. Knowing that I’m having fun with someone might be the kind of reassurance she’s looking for.”
It was another step forward, meaning that we were more than lovers or academic partners. That level of commitment didn’t bother me. Not with her.
The way she sat up in her seat, she cared about my answer, more than she was willing to let on. Shewantedme to go to dinner at her mother’s house.
“My age won’t offend her?”
“Shesaysshe’s fine with it. But seeing you in person might be different. It might not.” Mara shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”
“Tonight then,” I said.
“Really?”
I nodded. “Why not?”
“I’ve never brought home a guy before,” she said. She opened her eyes wide, blinking at the thought. “It’s strange, I guess. I thought you’d say no.”
“Why?”
Her shoulders tensed again, and whatever it was, was back on her mind. “No reason,” she lied. I leaned back in my chair, watching the emotions rising in her chest, ready to bubble out. If she wasn’t ready to say what she felt, then it was on her terms. I would wait.
“I’ll see you tonight, then,” she said. But she stayed seated, her eyes darting around the room, looking for clues. When she met my gaze, her honey-colored eyes yearned for answers, but I couldn’t give them to her. Not unless she said what she felt.
Was she trying to play head games with me?
No. Mara wasn’t like that. Not even on an off day.
“Is there anything you’re hiding from me?” she finally said. I stared at her for a moment. She wanted to know something specific, the ulterior motive hidden in her words. It irritated me. If she thought I was hiding something, she ought to ask the actual question. Like she always did. Say it, for fuck’s sake.
“Is there something you want to know?” I asked.
Her tone changed, then, bordering on irritation too. “I’m asking,” she peered at me, “are you hiding anything from me?”
Mara could ask me anything, and I would tell her the truth. It was that simple. I wasn’t going to play games like everyone else did.
“No,” I said.
As if the one word had broken the spell for her, she sucked in a breath and forced a smile. “Fine. Then it’s settled. Tonight.” But her body language—the stark shift in her movements, the tired tone to her voice—told another story. She stood up.
“Tonight,” I repeated. “I’ll pick you up.”
