Chapter Twenty-Three
JANE
Of course, I would.
Ian’s answer repeated in my thoughts. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew he wasn't telling me something. Something that was causing a lot of stress for him. That awareness felt like a little paper cut in my consciousness, in my trust for him, or rather, in my trust for our relationship.
Whatever was going on was creating a constant sense of tension.
Every time he spoke, I could hear it in his voice.
Yet every time I asked, he assured me he was fine.
I didn’t mind someone keeping me out. I also respected that we all had to keep our own counsel and keep corners of ourselves entirely private.
None of it would matter, except I'd fallen in love with him.
Talk about a complication I hadn't expected. Meanwhile, my parents’ house was officially on the market, and the real estate agent was bombarding my parents with questions.
They'd already had several offers. If the financing came through for one of them, the place where I’d grown up would belong to another family.
This should not be a big deal. Not at all.
Except visiting Haven’s Bay had brought back so many memories, and I loved my little hometown. If the house sold and things didn’t work out with Ian, I wouldn't have any excuse to visit anymore.
Dammit. Now, that felt too emotional. I spun in my desk chair to look out the windows.
My office had a slice of a view of the Charles River.
It was late afternoon, and people were running, walking, and biking along the path beside the river.
The weather was getting nicer and summer was on the horizon.
I decided to put my worries out of my thoughts and assume things were okay.
Whatever was bothering Ian probably had something to do with work and nothing to do with me.
I wanted to be one of those couples walking along the river where we'd stop and get takeout and then go home together.
Of course, that spun into another little paper cut of a worry. Small but stinging.
If we were going to be serious, we couldn't do this long-distance thing forever.
Maybe we could, but that wasn't what I wanted.
Restless, I spun back around in my chair and decided it was time to go.
I saved what I'd been working on to my laptop.
I'd grade the rest of the papers when I got home tonight and upload everything to the online system.
Meanwhile, I'd walk myself along the Charles River and get my own takeout for dinner.
That was more appealing than staying late in my office.
“There,” I said to myself after I finished grading the last midterm paper.
As I leaned back into the couch cushions, my eyes landed on the clock on my phone. It was nine o'clock at night, and I still hadn't had an evening call from Ian. This was unusual.
I flicked on the television, scanning the channels before settling on a home renovation show. I’d never owned my own house, but I liked the idea. Not that I could do my own remodeling, but I loved painting. The repetition of it was soothing for me.
I knew I could call Ian myself, but for some reason, I was holding back.
When I realized I’d lifted my phone and checked the time for the third time inside of fifteen minutes, I sighed and swiped my thumb across the screen, immediately pulling up his number and calling him. Because I was being stupid.
Ian picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Jane. Sorry, I meant to call you sooner.”
He sounded tired and stressed. “Busy with work?” I prompted, my heart twinging with empathy.
“I am, but that's no excuse. How was your day?”
“Pretty good. Doing midterm grading, so that's always fun. I'm feeling ahead of the curve, though. Aside from work bogging you down, how are things?”
“It's all work for me this week.”
“Did you at least eat more than that bagel?” I teased lightly. He’d texted me a photo of the bagel he’d picked up this morning on his way to the office.
“I did, I promise.”
“Do you know what time you'll be getting here this Friday?”
“Should be by seven. Will that work?”
“Of course. Text me what you want for dinner, and I'll pick it up before you get here.”
“You got it.”
There was a longer than usual pause before I cleared my throat. “Well, I'll let you get back to work. Make sure you get some sleep tonight, okay?”
His low laugh sounded tired, and my heart twisted with worry. “I will. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Good night.”
The words “I love you” hovered in my throat, almost a visceral presence, but I held back. Not because I didn't know how I felt. It's just we hadn't gotten to that stage yet. I felt a pinch of worry in my chest as I lowered the phone to my lap.
He sounded downright weary, and I wished I knew why work was so stressful.
I knew from before we’d reconnected over the holidays that he was a busy guy.
He ran an investment company, one he'd started himself in the aftermath of everything blowing up with their father and his business.
I imagined he worked long hours. As it was, I worked plenty of hours myself.
Now that I was on a tenure track, I knew I would be staying busy.
Of course, that train of thought immediately rounded back to what would happen if we decided to really commit and figure out who was going to move.
I flung my phone on the couch cushion beside me, shaking my head as I tucked my feet under my hips.
A minute later, I stood from the couch and crossed into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine.
I needed to relax, not obsess about Ian.
When I spoke to him Thursday, he sounded better, more like himself, without that thread of tension. Friday, he texted me in the afternoon to say he'd love some takeout from one of our favorite Thai restaurants.
I was walking to pick it up when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Sliding it out, Ian’s name flashed on the screen. I answered immediately.
“Hey, Jane. I'm glad I caught you.”
“What's up?”
The sound of him inhaling sharply filtered through the phone. “Look, I'm not gonna make it tonight.”
I reflexively glanced at my watch, my feet coming to a stop. Someone walking behind me skirted around. I stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, stopping to lean against a brick building.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it'll be fine. I've got a problem at work, dealing with some stuff. I won't be focused if I come up.”
This was odd, if only because I didn’t see how he couldn’t have known this only a few hours earlier. After a brief pause, I opened my mouth to tell him I wouldn't mind if he worked all weekend here. Because I missed him, and I wanted to see him. I didn’t say any of that.
“Oh,” I finally said.
“Rain check for next weekend? I'll come up there, I promise,” he said.
“Oka-aay.” I heard myself saying slowly. An uncomfortable sense of uncertainty was unspooling inside.
“I miss you,” he said quickly. “I'm really sorry.”
“It's okay, I understand.” I tried to force some lightness into my tone, but I knew my words were coming out stilted, and my throat felt tight. “I miss you too.”
“I'll call you tomorrow.”
“All right. Good night,” I said, trying to force my tone to sound casual.
I hung up quickly. I pushed away from the building and began walking as I slid my phone in my pocket and adjusted my purse where the strap was angled across my chest. I decided to get that Thai takeout anyway.
I was starving, and I'd rather have that than try to scramble up something on my own at home.
That would only make me feel even lonelier.