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Cass is asleep on the little divan in the corner. Her black fedora is pulled down over her eyes and she’s got her sunglasses on.
“She had a good weekend.” Hayes nods in her direction.
“So did I,” I say. “Who would have known that you are such a Renaissance Man, Hayes.”
He presses a finger to my lips and looks around the room. “Shh… I like them being a little afraid of me.” He laughs and I admire the way his shirt bunches around broad shoulders when they shake with laughter. I want to soak up every detail.
“I can’t believe we’re leaving today. It’s been amazing.” I drop my head to his shoulder and link my arms through his.
“I want to see you again,” he says suddenly and my happy heart leaps in my chest. Warmth suffuses my body and I’m surprised at how elated I feel. But, I don’t question it. None of it. This weekend has been magical and full of surprises. Hayes is the most magical one of all. I’ve never had such an instant and tenacious connection before.
“I would love that,” I agree softly.
He reaches up and pulls his phone and a pair of black-framed glasses out of his breast pocket.
“Let’s look at our calendars,” he says and slips the glasses on his nose.
“Your glasses are hot,” I say, admiring the profile.
“Right.” He rolls his eyes dismissively. “First, what’s your number?”
I rattle it off and he puts his in my phone. “What’s the rest of your summer like?” he says.
“Mine is pretty open,” I say cheerily. Inside, my stomach knots when I think about the absence of job interviews, or anything else, on my calendar.
“I’ll be in Houston next week, I could fly you in,” he says.
“Fly me in?” I question, and I feel the first prickle of discomfort.
“Yeah, you said Arkansas? I can send a plane,” he says nonchalantly, his eyes still glued to his phone, his fingers flying across his keyboard.
“I can fly myself to see you.” My pride is bruised a little.
“Why would you do that? You’re not working, right?” he asks quizzically.
“Why did you get a job instead of living on your family’s millions?” I ask him.
He pauses his typing and slides his gaze sideways in my direction.
“What?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
“That’s hardly the same. It’s just a quick flight,” he says slowly.
“To you, it’s just a flight. But this is my first time out of the country and only the fifth time I’ve ever been on a plane. It took me four months of dedicated saving to afford the flight from Memphis to Austin when I left for college,” I tell him. “I’ll never see a flight as nothing. And given the way things between us got started, I couldn’t even imagine you buying me a plane ticket—or anything else.”
He stares at me for a long moment. His gaze is assessing, and I can practically hear the wheels spinning in his head.
“Fine,” he says. “Then I’ll come visit you.”
“Okay …” I clear my throat. “I’m telling you it’s probably not anything like what you’re used to.”
“I’m good at getting used to new situations,” he says pensively. His fingers drum the piano keys lightly and make a tinkling melody that are so contrary to the heaviness in his voice.
“I just moved back to Houston, started a new job; it’s been fine.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.
I nudge his arm lightly with my shoulder. “You sound thrilled about it.” He smiles absently but doesn’t look away from the keyboard. “I don’t know what I am,” he says and shakes his head slightly. His lips quirk, and when he turns his head to look at me, conflict has muddled his normally clear gaze.
“What do you mean?” I rub up and down his arm.
