Page 53 of Secret Paths

“Until the pause.”

“The pause was not about you.”

“I know that now.”

I move my useless hand from the wall and let it settle at her other hip. That is better. Not enough to fix my head, but better. Mandy notices. Her gaze drops for a second, then returns to mine.

“I cannot stop thinking about Monday,” I say.

“It sounds like an ideal offer. What are you not sure about?”

“Whether I would be taking it because it makes sense or because I am scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Leeds.” I laugh, though there is not much in it. “Regional meetings. Hotels. Being the man who sells his father’s house because he was too proud to work at the place down the road.”

Mandy’s expression changes.

Not pity. Thank fuck, not pity.

Attention.

The kind that makes me feel as if I have stepped under a brighter light than I meant to.

“Do you want to sit down?” she asks.

“No.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“Also no.”

“Do you want me to pretend you are not clearly desperate to talk?”

“That would be ideal.”

“Unlikely.”

“I was afraid of that.”

Her hands slide from my chest to the open edges of my shirt. She does not pull me closer. She just holds the fabric, keeping me there without making a point of it.

“Have a seat,” she says.

“I thought we were going upstairs.”

“We were. Then you abandoned me emotionally for hotel accounts.”

“That sounds worse than it was.”

“It was not your finest moment.”

“I was still half undressed.”

“Only half.”

She steps out from between me and the wall, takes my hand and leads me to the table.