My eyes stay glued on Everett’s. “Yeah, I’ll text you when I get to Vegas too.”
I hang up, letting my phone sit heavy in my hand after I feel like my limbs have lost all control. I haven’t seen Everett in weeks. I also haven’t been able to stop thinking about him, and it’s like I conjured him from my thoughts in his pressed dress shirt and drifting cologne.
“So, you’re going?”
“Huh?”
He nods at the phone. “Vegas. Decided you aren’t too old for a weekend of club hopping?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a step back, creating more than the two inches of space sitting between us. “Grace and Mina guilt tripped me into going, so…”
He tucks his hands into his pockets, and that smile hiding a secret, shifts as he takes me in. I opted for comfort today, prepared to get my hands dirty if needed. That meant skinny jeans and a white-collared button-down tucked in at the waist. My hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, much like I used to have as a teenager, reminding me of what I must look like to Everett. Like the Teeny he met when we were just kids.
“And Eric told me he could handle things here while I’m out of town,” I add, feeling the pressure from his gaze. “It’s the weekend, so a lot of the work will be held off until Monday anyway. But I’m available if you guys need?—”
“I’m going too.”
“Right.”Of course, he’s going.“Anyway, I got an update from Roberta on the pieces you picked. I was going to go over them with Eric, but since you’re here and you chose them, you want to take a look?”
He nods. “We can have a seat at the bar. Grab a drink?”
“Sure.” I sound soft, affable. Friendly even. And I realize I can’t remember the last time I felt that simmering anger, that resentment and bitterness I had when Everett came back into town. It’s all been replaced with a keenness I can’t seem to hide. But it’s confusing me. I feel like I should be angry. Like I should still demand answers and keep this wall up around me, protecting myself like I’ve always done. But now, with Everett around, I have this urge to deconstruct parts of that wall to create the smallest of openings. Just wide enough for him to fit through.
Everett and I make our way to the bar area right around the time the workers in the ballroom break for lunch. He signals to the one server working the bar area, and I order a cup of coffee while Everett orders a club soda and lime.
“You don’t want to eat?” Everett asks, gesturing a hand to the menu sitting offside on the table. “We have a pretty decent lunch menu.”
I shake my head. “I actually need to head out in a little bit. Sadie has her showcase, and it’ll be a bit of a drive to LA.”
“Okay,” he answers. “So, do you want to show me the pieces?”
“Oh, right.” I power up my iPad, tapping away at the screen before nudging it in front of Everett. “The coffee tables are almost finished. And they’ll be perfect for the main lobby area, especially with the furniture and upholstery you picked.” I swipe across the screen, showing him the progression of the tables as Roberta adds the final touches. She’s been sending me regular updates, asking about Everett in a non-professional inquiry.
“They look good,” he comments, his eyes on the screen. He takes over, swiping along the images before swiping too far, and he lands on a picture of me, Leo, and Sadie. “Is this him?”
Him. He doesn’t say “your husband,” and it feels intentional. I nod. “Sadie was four, and it was her first visit to Disneyland.”
Sadie’s smile beams with the sun shining above us. She has a set of too large Minnie Mouse ears sitting lopsided on her head, and Leo and I sandwich her tiny little face stained with chocolate. “I forgot that was in there.”
“That’s a beautiful picture.” He hands the iPad back to me.
“Thank you.”
Our drinks arrive, and we sip in silence. My spoon scraping against the ceramic mug and the ice clicking in Everett’s glass creates a buffer of noise, but after a moment too long of silence, it only magnifies the quiet.
“You’re driving out to Vegas?”
“Flying,” I tell him. I take a slow sip of my coffee. “I don’t have the patience to sit through that drive.”
He smiles. “I’m flying too.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe we can take a cab to the hotel together,” he suggests. “You know, if our flights get in around the same time.” He reaches into his pocket for his phone and taps away at the screen. My eyes widen when he slides it across the table to me. “Go ahead and put in your number.”
I should decline his offer. It would actually be the polite thing to do since it would be such an inconvenience for him to track me down at the airport. But I don’t. Instead, I take his phone in my hands, carefully inputting my number before sliding it across the table back to him. He takes it in his hands, and my phone vibrates in my bag.
“That’s me,” he says, nodding his head in the direction of the buzzing noise. “Let me know when you get in.”
