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I wait a moment. Wait for the weird, heavy thing to disappear. But it doesn’t. Somehow, it infects the air in the room, and I take a breath. Why this woman makes me nervous sometimes is beyond me. Nothing gets me nervous.
Nothing, I amend, apart from her.
“You seem a little not yourself, like something’s on your mind?” I ask.
Sarah sighs and looks at her hands. “Wedding stuff.”
“Do you want that?” The words come out before I can stop them.
She looks at me sharply. “You’re not the marrying kind.”
When I don’t answer, she gets up. Honestly, I don’t know where they came from or why I asked, except . . . except there’s something on her mind, no matter what she says.
Sarah’s right, we both know it. I’m not the marrying kind, and I’ve said that to her, but this has been a little while and . . . she’s moving around the room, straightening up her neat abode when the letter flutters from a pile of papers to the floor. I know it’s the one I’ve seen that she showed Isaac but not me.
I pick it up, and she goes still.
I stand and look at her, just holding it, ignoring her outstretched hand. “I said that, yeah. And you seem . . . restless.”
“I told you,” she shrugs, “a lot on my mind.”
“I . . .” I stop. I what? Am I going to marry her? She’ll take it like she’s forcing my hand, and I don’t even know if she wants to marry again.
“I guess,” she says finally, a little reluctant. “I’m wondering if we’re spinning wheels.”
“Women,” I mutter, a sudden nervousness rising. “Need plans for everything.” Then I look at her. “Sorry, I’m jumpy too. My parents love Lawson and are flying in from Florida.”
Her brows rise. “Florida?”
“They’ve got a winter place.” I give a glance at the letter.
“It’s fall.”
“Yeah, but they’re retired. My mom’s gonna look and ask where your ring is.”
She goes stiff. And I immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say. “You don’t want to introduce me?”
Rubbing a hand over the back of my neck, I try and find the right thing to say to soothe, to make this mess I’m somehow making go away. “I didn’t say that. I just—”
“Do they know about me?”
I don’t answer because it’s kind of damning to say no. And so is my silence because she storms up and snatches the letter away, but not before I see what it says.
“I’ll be sure to keep out of their way,” she mutters.
“I didn’t . . . you’re being ridiculous.” I throw up my hands. “You don’t even know if you want to be doing this with me.”
Sarah’s sweet, soft, gorgeous mouth is suddenly a tight, thin line. “You’re right, I don’t.”
We both stare at each other.
“And this job offer?” I ask.
“What about it?”
What about it? What the hell do I know apart from I don’t want her going. I like it how it is. I like her here. With me. Where she fucking belongs. “You shouldn’t let anything stand in your way.”
Spots of color darken her cheeks. “You think I should take it? Move away?”
