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You need to get up and excuse yourself to the restroom.
Why, Nathan?
He’ll follow. He wants to touch you, but something’s holding him back.
I look up at Michael. He’s still engrossed in conversation.
I lean over, putting my hand on Michael’s thigh now. “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” I murmur.
Now he finally looks at me. “Can it wait so I can just give our goodbyes?” he murmurs. “I’m ready to head out in a few minutes once I make some excuse. I know you were probably ready fifteen minutes ago.”
“Sure.” I’m relieved. And a little embarrassed. I realize I was texting Nathan longer than I intended to. I’ve lost the thread of conversation going around the table.
My phone vibrates again, but I ignore it. Nathan will assume I’ve followed his suggestion and gone off to a dark corner with Michael.
I turn to the woman next to me and smile, trying to pull something conversational out of my muddled brain. “That’s a lovely necklace,” I tell her.
She smiles politely. “Thank you.” Then she turns back to her husband.
Michael gives me a sympathetic shrug.
Finally, a few minutes later our dishes are cleared, my glass of wine has been refilled again, and Michael stands, buttons the front of his jacket and holds his hand out to me.
He takes my hand and tugs me up, then tucks me under his arm.
“We’re heading over to the casino,” one of the doctors says to Michael. “Will you join us?”
“I think we’re going to call it a night,” Michael says. “Maybe another time this week.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
Michael turns me from the table, and we start toward the doors of the ballroom.
His hand is resting heavily and possessively on my hip. I also feel a tension in him that I know is annoyance. He’s been annoyedaroundme before. With Nathan. With Crew. With my parents. There were a couple of moments with our contractors on our new house. There have been moments after games where he’s been annoyed with a player or one of the coaches.
But Michael has never been annoyedwith mebefore.
That I know of anyway.
“Michael, I–”
“I know,” he says quietly. He gives my hip a squeeze.
A little startled, I press my lips together and let him lead me across the large room where we’d had cocktails and where people now linger. I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say, so how does he know? But as we step out into the hallway and turn toward the elevators, Michael stops, turns, and looks down at me.
“That wasn’t an enjoyable evening for you. I know. I appreciate you trying.”
Which instantly makes me feel terrible. I’m not sure how hard I was actually trying. I defaulted to texting Nathan when I started to get in my head and worry about not fitting in with a professional crowd.
“I didn’t expect to feel so awkward,” I confess. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more of a hit with your friends. I just don’t have much to contribute when the women are talking about things like going into labor during their MCATs or taking a family vacation to Stockholm because that’s where theau pairis from and they want their toddler to experience her culture.”
Michael actually chuckles softly. “I think they’re lying when they claim their three-year-old liked pickled herring.”
That makes me laugh too, in relief. “I thought you were upset with me.”
He shakes his head. Then he takes my hand and starts in the opposite direction. He pushes a door open and we step outside. We’re in front of the hotel and casino, but we’re off to the side of the main drive so there are fewer people and the vehicles are pulling past us to pick up and drop off passengers.
Michael shrugs out of his suit jacket and puts it around my shoulders. It’s huge on me and smells amazing. I lift my shoulder and take a breath. His scent calms me. When he takes my hand and leads me down the sidewalk to a space where we can stand alone, I follow readily.
