Chapter Twenty-Six
The morning after the game against Winnipeg, Lennox informs me out of the blue that he has an interview at the Bears’ arena.
“Wait, you do?” I ask, perplexed. “You haven’t said anything about any interview.”
It’s true, and it’s out of character for him. He’s usually really good at keeping me up-to-date on his schedule.
We’re in the midst of having breakfast in the kitchen at his house, and I can see he’s rushing to finish his eggs.
This is a little weird.
“I know,” he says between hurried bites. “I kind of forgot about it till I was showering just a bit ago. You were down here making breakfast, so this is the first chance I’ve had to mention it.”
“Okayyy. What time do you have to be there?” I ask. “And who’s this interview with?”
He ignores my second question and only says, “It’s at eleven o’clock.”
I glance over at the clock on the stove and murmur, “Uh, you do realize it’s already after ten now.”
“I know,” he says, pushing his plate away and swiping the napkin over his mouth. “I better go.”
As he stands, I take a sip of juice and adjust the tie on my robe. I haven’t even had a chance to shower yet, so it’s not like I can go with him. There’s just not enough time to get ready.
So, shrugging, I say, “Okay, get going.”
I guess I’ll get all the details later.
Still clearly in a rush, Lennox comes over to where I’m seated and gives me a quick kiss on the top of my head. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart. And maybe”—he tugs at the tie on my robe—“keep this on and we’ll pick up where we left off earlier.”
I smile and nod, but inside I’m thinking, I don’t think so.
More and more, I’m feeling like something is up here. There’s a part of this interview story that I’m missing.
Or he’s purposely leaving details out.
I don’t like this, not one bit.
Lennox takes off, and I sit at the table, toying with a piece of crust that I pulled from my toast earlier and pondering more on this weird situation.
First, why didn’t he tell me who the interview is with?
Did he not hear that part of my question?
I doubt that.
But is it even important who’s interviewing him?
“It is if it’s with that Meredith chick,” I state out loud, my blood beginning to boil. “It is very fucking important to tell me.”
Lennox informed me a long time ago that she gave him her number after his first interview with her.
Clearly, she wanted him.
He never called her, thank God.
Then he met me, and I guess that made him forget about her completely.
But has he really forgotten her?
If so, why didn’t he say the interview is with her?
Why be so cagey?
And why not bring it up until this morning when it was time to leave?
This whole thing is strange, and I don’t like it one bit.
I can’t believe he truly forgot about an interview. Lennox is pretty organized and doesn’t just “forget” his obligations.
Something is definitely not adding up.
Unless he doesn’t want me to know about the interview because he still has some kind of interest in Meredith.
Holy crap!
What if I’m right?
What if Claire is right and a tiger doesn’t change his stripes?
“That’s it.” I push back my chair and stand abruptly.
I know where the interviews are conducted.
In fact, I know the exact conference room.
So, here’s the plan—I’m going to shower, and then I’m going to get my ass down to the arena to see for myself what the fuck is up.
If something crazy is going on, heads are going to roll…starting with Lennox’s.