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He nods.
“And after that?”
“I have business in New York, but I don’t know if I’ll stay.”
“You don’t know if you’ll stay or come back here?”
He nods.
“How am I supposed to predict a future like that?” I ask. “If you might go back to New York, at some time, between, what, six months and sixty years?”
“You’re right,” he says. “It’s not a fair question. I’m not sure I can answer.”
He’s not sure if this is one night of magic or something more.
Oh.
Well.
That’s the plan. He’s proving his point about love. So, if that’s all he’s doing here, that’s fine. It shouldn’t bother me since he’s following the plan. But then I said that, didn’t I?
“It’s not you, Dee,” he says.
My cheeks flush at the sound of my nickname. It’s different on his lips. It just is.
“It’s me. No. I don’t mean it like that, the cliche.”
I want to jump in and object, but I stop myself.
“There’s something happening in my life,” he says. “Something that takes a lot of my attention. I don’t know how much I have to give.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Have you met me?”
He laughs. “Deanna Huntington, the workaholic?”
“It’s true.”
“You’ve barely talked about work all weekend.”
“I have, too.” And I started this whole thing to keep him away from Lexi. But that’s a distant memory. It’s irrelevant. “And I don’t know what this is. I’m not like you, River. I don’t run to my feelings. I have to think about them for a while, understand them, imagine a future.”
“Make a plan?”
“What’s wrong with a plan?”
“Nothing.” He takes a long sip of his tea. “Would you really be okay, seeing where this goes?”
“No.” That’s the truth. I’m not good at being in the moment. Or living without a plan. Or going off script. “But I’d rather do that than end it now.”
“It might get messy.”
“It’s already messy,” I say. “But we are friends, aren’t we? No matter what, we’re friends.”
He nods.
