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On the way to his car, he’d asked about her trip. She’d recounted her frustration with the delay. He’d talked about the traffic on the Massachusetts Turnpike. He’d loaded her bag, which he’d insisted on carrying, gentleman that he was, into the backseat while she asked about Erik and Sandra. They’d gotten into the car to drive the half-hour-plus to the house, he’d asked a few questions about her second interview, she’d asked him about his work...then conversation had all but lapsed.
Shouldn’t they be chatting up a storm? Shouldn’t there be hopes and dreams to share, special moments they wanted each other to know about? Should she tell him one of her brothers was arrested that afternoon for cocaine possession? That her mother had been on the phone to Allie for an hour, drunk and crying over her worthless children, and why wasn’t Allie with her in her time of need, and why didn’t she ever visit, was she ashamed of them? Allie had always thought she was too good for them, didn’t she...and on and on and on until Allie had cut her off, saying she had to go. Then things got really ugly.
Yeah, that would get the weekend off to a rousing start.
The only way Allie had been able to cope was to shut it all out, pretend these were distant acquaintances, and she was a horrified stranger, hearing of their sad, sad circumstances.
Now what? She’d put on some antique outfit and pretend she was really into seducing a man she shouldn’t be here to see?
“You must be starving.” He lifted her overnight bag out of the car.
“Yes, I am.” She would be if it weren’t for the nerves clogging her stomach.
“I got us dinner.” He pulled a plastic shopping bag from the car. “Some excellent sandwiches from a place not far from the station.”
“Thank you. That was sweet.”
He shut the car door, looking at her curiously. “You’re welcome.”
She came around to join him on the walk to the cottage, remembering their times there before, desperately wanting to get closer to him and to keep him farther away, feeling stuck in some emotional bog she hadn’t asked for and didn’t quite understand.
“You all right?” He led the way around to the lake side of the cottage. For the first time she thought she’d rather be in the larger house.
“Just tired.” She cringed at the clichéd excuse. But what could she say? I’m not sure why I’m here or what I expect to find or what you want from me or what I want from you or... “I’m sure I’ll feel better after I eat something.”
“Coming up.” He gestured at the deck where he’d laid out a table with silver candlesticks, beautiful blue-and-white china and crystal wineglasses. A low vase held an assortment of colorful zinnias.
For sandwiches.
She closed her eyes briefly. What was wrong with her? The table wasn’t for sandwiches, it was for her, and she should be incredibly pleased that Jonas had gone to all the trouble to make their meal special.
“How beautiful.”
“Thanks.” He touched her shoulder. “Food’s not special, but I wanted your welcome to be.”
“It’s...beautiful.” She said that already. For heaven’s sake.
“I’ll get the wine.”
While he was in the kitchen, Allie plunked herself in one of the chairs, staring out at the lake, feeling worse than ever. The nicest guy in the world was waiting on her hand and foot and she was being a petulant child. She owed him an apology, and a lot more effort to be good company.
Minutes later, he emerged again, holding a bottle of white wine, which he started pouring into their glasses. “Want to start with wine or just dig in?”
“Jonas...”
He looked up at the sound of her voice. For a second before he forced his features blank, she saw fear, and felt worse than ever.
“I’m sorry I’m behaving so badly. I think I must be worried about this job...”
He shrugged, clearly not satisfied with her answer, and handed her a glass. “I get it. It’s exhausting facing a big life change.”
“Yes.” She took the glass and drank a polite sip. “Though it’s not really that big. I mean it’s the same job I was just doing. So it shouldn’t...”
Jonas frowned. “Let’s eat, okay?”
“Sure.” She sat, wishing they weren’t going to have to have this dinner, wishing she was in his arms, or back home without him, anywhere but this odd limbo.
The sandwiches he’d picked out were delicious: tuna with capers, onion and avocado; grilled eggplant with pesto and mozzarella; and roast beef with caramelized onions and arugula. As she feasted happily away, Allie began to cheer up.
