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I’ve been feeling this ever since Dean moved away from New York, our home, to California two years ago.
Sighing, I give him a look. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. As it was when you called me last Tuesday.”
Even though Dean hasn’t come around to see me since I moved here, he does call.
Every Tuesday at 8:30 PM sharp.
Not to chat—Dean doesn’t have time to chat anymore, apparently—but to check up on me. How my classes are. If I’m taking care of myself. If someone is bothering me.
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
“You do know I’m not a little girl, right? Not anymore.” My words sound frustrated but I don’t care right now.
At this, something flashes across his face. A shadow that jumps out under the sunny sky. It goes away quickly and his lips twitch as he reaches forward to tuck a flyaway strand behind my ear. “Little hard to forget that when I was the one picking you up from playdates and kindergarten.”
Is it sick that the tender look in his eyes makes my heart race? Actually, it makes my heart race and it makes me wanna shake him until he realizes how tremulous my heartbeats are.
I fold my arms across my chest and cock my hip out. “Well, then I’m glad we’re doing this thing. It will give me a chance to show you that I don’t go to kindergarten anymore and I don’t need playdates to amuse me. I know a few games of my own that keep me pretty happy.”
Dean thrusts his hands into his pockets and arches his eyebrows. “Is that why you came up with the insane idea of driving three thousand miles back to New York, instead of taking a six-hour flight? Because you wanted to show me how grown-up you are.”
Bingo.
Yeah, that’s why.
Last Tuesday when he called me, I told him that I was going to rent a car and drive back to New York for Christmas, which naturally enraged him. He wanted me to take a plane like normal people but I kept insisting, telling him that this was my first time being away from home and I wanted a little independence—I didn’t—and he gave in.
He wasn’t going to go home for Christmas because for some reason Dean never goes home since he moved away. But now he is, because he wants to keep an eye on me.
Well, good.
Because I can’t take this distance anymore. I can’t hide my feelings for him anymore, either. So this five-day journey back to our home is also going to be our journey to each other.
Keeping my eyes connected to his, I close the space between us. I feel the air turning static, thick and heated, saturated with all of these emotions inside me.
“No. I came up with the insane idea of driving three thousand miles back because I wanted to spend time with you. Because you never seem to have time for me anymore,” I say in a soft, low voice, sanded over with my craving for him.
“That’s because I have this thing. It’s called a job,” he says, his voice full of amusement. Although amusement is hardly the emotion reflected in his gaze or on his expression. It’s too intense, too penetrating for that.
“Oh, I know. You’re this bigshot lawyer now, right?”
“Right.”
“Are you sure they’re gonna survive without you at the office?”
“I think they’ll manage. For once.”
I try to hide my smile at the arrogance in his voice. “My mom’s gonna be happy to see you.”
Though not as happy as I am right now. I’m bursting with happiness. Such a strange thing for me.
He smiles. “Yeah, it’ll be good to see her.”
My mom and Dean have always been close. So have my dad and Dean. But I guess my mom’s more eloquent and more open about it than my dad. My dad is a closed book, very much like this man in front of me.
“She thinks you work too much.” I do too.
“Does she?”
“You have no life.”
“No kidding.”
“She thinks you need to slow down a little.”
“She say that to you?”
“Yup.”
No.
I mean, both my mom and Dean’s sister, Mia, do think Dean is working himself into the ground. But this is all me.
“She also said you need to loosen up a little,” I continue, making stuff up; though to be fair, he does need that.
“Loosen up, huh?”
“So I told her she should leave it to me.”
“Leave it to you?”
“Uh-huh.” I grin, and then, looking him in the eye, I declare, “I’m going to loosen you up, Dean.”
With a slamming heart and buzzing skin, I wait for his reaction. Dean seems frozen for a few seconds. As if all he can do right now is stare at me.
But the moment breaks when he ducks his head and runs his fingers through his thick hair. “Thanks for the offer but you should tell your mom I’m doing just fine.” Then, looking over my shoulders, he tips his chin. “That your luggage?”
