“Stop looking at me like that,” I said lightly, trying to deflect.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re cataloguing me for quality assurance.”
A hint of smile started, paused and retreated, but he didn’t look away.“Old habits die hard.”
I didn’t ask what he meant.I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.“You still haven’t answered my question.Do you want me to drop you off at the airport, or spend the night at my winery?”
The tone in his voice was hard to read, and I really didn’t know how to answer.
No.
No slipping.
No softening.
Home isn’t here.Home is Joshua’s half-burnt grilled cheese attempts and Allie’s music at 2 a.m.
The air was cooling fast, sharp with pine and the faint sweetness of the gift shop’s fudge.I glanced toward the lake, pretending to watch the leaves dance on the edge of the breeze but what I really saw in my imagination was the two of us, closer than we had any right to be.
Deflection and avoidance were my best friends, and I held tight to them now.I didn’t want to be a burden on anyone.Not my kids who’d have to come and pick me up early from the airport and change their plans in the process.And I didn’t want Tristan to go out of his way to put me up in his place and need to drive me back to the airport, taking time out of his busy schedule.
I stood abruptly, crumpling the mystery bag in my hand after stashing my treasures into my purse.“We should go.Long drive ahead.”
It was an answer, all be it vague.What was it I really wanted?
He nodded, slow, like he’d felt it too.“Right.Wouldn’t want to lose control of the schedule.”
I caught the teasing note but heard the truth beneath it; it was the one thing he wasn’t laughing about.
As we headed to the van, I glanced over my shoulder.Tristan was pocketing the compass like it mattered.
And maybe it did.Maybe we werebothlost.
Behind us, the van door slammed shut.
“So,” he said quietly, voice too steady to be casual, “winery...or airport?”
My heart thudded once.
I opened my mouth to answer.And lied.“Airport.”
