Chapter 40 #2
Kieran stays silent as I open my car door and start the engine. A puff of frost billows from the vent. “Okay,” he says in a clipped tone. “How about tomorrow?”
“I don’t think us spending time together is a good idea.” There goes my emotional high from earlier. I hate talking about feelings when it’s not necessary. “I think you’re nice, Kieran.”
“But you don’t see this going anywhere.”
Well. He said it.
“Dinner was enjoyable—”
“Please don’t tell me you went because of charity. I thought we were past that.”
Had Kieran not bid on himself, we never would’ve gone out a second time.
I wasn’t obligated to go in the first place, but I don’t believe in wasting money.
If he thought he could buy his way into a relationship, it was a miscalculation on his part.
I’ll miss the lab, but I’m not about to end up in something I don’t want, or in the trunk of his car because he can’t deal with rejection.
Those Netflix documentaries are terrifying.
Kieran’s low chuckle has me checking my back seat. His tongue kisses his teeth. “I’m disappointed, Miriam. I don’t like to waste my time.”
Is this where people usually say, “It’s not you, it’s me,” and “We can still be friends”? Small talk is so pointless.
“Good luck with your projects,” I add, so I don’t come off a complete jerk.
Click.
Okay, then.
I wave at my neighbor, who’s rescuing the sidewalk from pounds of snow when I pull up to my house. Another storm blew through, dumping inches and trauma over the region.
Heat and the scent of vanilla greet me when I step through the front door. Inside is my daily reminder of Antonio.
The sofa we ate on.
The bookshelves he built.
The shower curtain he annihilated.
My bedroom he helped paint.
That damn kitchen table.
I drop my coat on the rack and fish out my phone. Antonio picks up on the second ring.
“Hi, Doe.” His voice is a steady calm over the clang of dishes and chatter on the other end of the line.
“You’re out.” Of course he is. It’s four thirty in the afternoon in Utah, two hours behind. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“It’s okay,” he says in a rush. “I can talk. One sec.”
The noise dissolves.
“Hi.”
I smile. “Hi.”
A beat passes before we speak.
“I miss you,” we say at the same time.
The strength in my breath crumbles at the distance between us and his three words. We’ve said them to each other before, within the security of our friendship, when they didn’t mean more. When I didn’t want more.
“How was your trip?” My throat tightens at the sting of tears.
“Cramped,” he says. “I had the middle seat between Bread and Shins for the flight from Chicago.”
I snicker at the visual. “Sorry to hear.”
“You don’t sound like it.”
We let laughter take over.
“I miss hearing your laugh in person, Doe.”
More silence.
“I wanted to call you to thank you for your donation to the center. I’m speechless.”
“I told Ms. Amber I wanted to stay anonymous,” he groans.
“You are. She never advertised my job as part-time, so it was easy to guess who the donor was. Why did you do it? I mean, you didn’t need to.”
The rapid beat of my heart reveals the obvious. I know the answer, but I’ve been too scared to admit what’s been here all along.
“I love you, Miriam.”
I exhale through shallow gasps. Tears tangle with my words. “I love you too.” My voice trembles.
“Don’t cry, baby. I’ll always support you. Your dreams, your desires. All of it. I’m your biggest fan, and I’ll show it for the rest of my life. How was your day?”
“Better now that we’re talking.” I wipe my face. “The council meeting was awful. They tabled the discussion to make vacant lots more accessible to the community. It’s not surprising, but the mediocrity offends me.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
I bite my lip. “I like when you call me that.”
“Noted.” There’s a smile in his voice.
“Aye, Cap. Coach is looking for you,” someone says in the background.
Antonio sighs. “I need a minute.”
“They’re keeping you busy.” I sag into the soft fibers of my sofa.
“I’m ready to take a year’s worth of naps,” he says between a yawn.
“You look good on screen.”
“You checking me out, Doe?”
A smile creeps across my face. “I’m your biggest fan who supports your dreams. Have you heard anything from the owner?”
“Nah, it’s been quiet. I’m taking that as a good sign for now.” Forever the optimist. “Mancini is a businessman first. Three consecutive wins and all this press brings in more team sponsors. He’s an ass, but he’s not stupid.”
“Have you ever thought about owning a team?” I ask. “Maybe the problem requires a different solution.”
“One day, when I’m no longer playing.” He huffs, and I imagine him rubbing his jaw. “The annual operating costs are in the millions, not to mention the millions needed to buy in. I want to do something good, Doe.”
“You are. You could’ve bought a bachelor pad for yourself when you moved up here, but instead you thought about your teammates,” I say.
“You’ve covered travel costs and accommodations.
You babysit to help out a single dad. Your contribution at the community center not only helps me, but will get programming and much needed repairs off of the ground.
You don’t have to worry about doing something good because you are good, Papa Smurf. ”
“Thank you for the reminder,” Antonio whispers, his voice gravelly. “Can I take you out when I get back next week? There’s something I want to do with you.”
“Antonio,” I warn with a giggle.
He laughs. “It doesn’t involve my dick, I promise. Just you, me, and fun.”
I can handle that.
“Okay.”
“Can I call you later if it’s not too late?”
“I’ll be here with my baking show.”
“Talk later, bestie.”