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He reached out, and she instantly stepped back, as if a live wire had hit her.
“That’s all I wanted to say. At the time, it seemed like a good idea to do it in person. But you’re right. It wasn’t.”
Turning, she bolted out of the bathroom.
“Shit,” he said, jumping out of the shower, hitting his toe on the frame and nearly face-planting. He hobbled out to the hallway as she grabbed her duffel sitting beside the sofa.
“Tati,” he called out, naked with water running down his body.
She held the duffel to her chest, as if protection. Refusing to look at him.
Realizing his junk was hanging out, he grabbed the dishtowel on the counter, balled it up and held it in front of him with both hands.
“I was wrong to come here.”
At least she wasn’t moving. Wasn’t leaving.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I figured it would be easier for you if I left rather than having to tell me… I don’t know…that you had…feelings…for Morales.”
Dropping the duffel and holding it to her side with one hand, she looked at him as if he were out of his mind. “The reason I spent so much time with Morales was because I was trying to let him down with a little bit of sensitivity. Not something I’m very good at.”
“You were letting him down?”
“Yes, as in telling him I didn’t share the same feelings for him that he did for me. Assuring him we didn’t have a future together.”
“You don’t have feelings for him?”
“What is it with Morales? Are you stupid? No, I don’t have feelings for him. I told you I had feelings for you. I believe the exact words were ‘I think I could possibly love you.’ Not sure how much more obvious I could be. But then, when I came out of the room, all but pushing Morales out the door, you had already left. Because I didn’t have a ride, Flynn drove me to the hotel where I discovered you had checked out.” She stood before him now with the duffel on the floor and her hands on her hips. “By the way, thanks for asking the hotel to hold all my bags and shit in the back luggage storage room while you bailed on me. That was super nice of you.”
Yanking at the duffel, she strode to the door.
“Don’t leave,” Grant said, feeling as if everything that mattered in is life hinged on what happened within the next two to five minutes. If he even had that much time.
“Why?” she asked, her head bowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Fine. You’re forgiven. I gotta go.”
Opening the door, she stormed out.
Fuck!
He ran to his bedroom and yanked on a pair of sweats and bolted back down the hallway and through the door.
He caught up to her in the parking lot as she opened the back-seat door and threw her duffel inside with more force than necessary.
“Tati!” He strode forward as she circled behind the vehicle to the driver’s side and swung open the door.
“I have a plane to catch.”
“Please don’t go.”
“Why, Grant? Why shouldn’t I go?”
He stared at her cornflower-blue eyes, not sure how to express his feelings the way she needed to hear them, he gave it his best shot.
“Because I think of you. All the time. I picture you pushing your hair behind one ear, the gentle curve of your neck…and eyebrows.”
