Chapter 23
23
Shane
Everything is ready, except me.
I’m dressed. The car has gas. The trunk is loaded. It doesn’t hold much, but I packed it full of food in coolers along with another for drinks. I bought flowers even though the last time I brought her flowers didn’t turn out so well for me.
I can go over every detail for the fifth time, but it’s not what I packed or planned that’s on my mind. It’s that she’s not even here.
It’s only been fifteen minutes since I arrived, since I checked the time to make sure I got it right, since I showed up at her apartment as we had scheduled through texts. Fifteen minutes, hoping she comes home. Doubts kick in again.
I’m wasting my time.
She’ll never forgive me.
I won’t get the chance to explain.
For all I know, the paperwork has already been signed, sealed, and delivered to her attorney, and I planned all this for nothing.
Is she blowing me off?
Busy with patients even though she supposedly was given the extra day off?
Did her car break down running errands and her phone died? She was in an accident? Or she eloped with a boyfriend that I’m not totally sure she doesn’t have. Millions of scenarios could keep her from going. She wouldn’t hold back from telling me if she had changed her mind. Not Cat.
I shake my hands to loosen the nerves free. This worked in the past. Performing in front of crowds of twenty, thirty, even fifty thousand screaming fans doesn’t faze me. A certain audience of one has me pacing her parking lot like the fucking stalker I’ve become.
“Waited long?” Cat asks.
I look over to find her standing behind her car, looking like sunshine on a rainy day in a yellow sundress and white sneakers. With a bag in one hand and her purse in the other, they swing in her hands as she walks toward me.
I almost open my arms, ready to catch her like I used to—to hug her to me, to kiss her neck and head, those pink lips, and every other part of her. I shove my hands in my pockets instead, but I’m so fucking relieved she’s here.
“No. Just got here.”
“That’s good,” she says, stopping in front of me. “I felt bad for being late, but since you weren’t here?—”
“I arrived fifteen minutes ago.”
“Right on time.” A smile wriggles the corners of her lips, soothing my nerves and erasing any doubts I had. Staring up at me, she says, “I have my stuff packed inside.” Cat’s not cold, but she’s not receptive either. I definitely have my work cut out for me this weekend. I expected no less.
“I can put it in the car while you finish.”
When she opens the door, flashbacks of our argument, of me being out of line, run through my head. Judging by how she pauses in the doorframe with her shoulders tense, I assume Cat feels the same. My heart rate increases, sweat dots my palms, and I can barely meet her eyes when her head turns in my direction. Her smile is gone, too.
“Back to the scene of the crime.”
Reminding myself of the strides I’ve taken to prove to myself and her that I’m a different man, I try for a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving that day.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. Waving me inside, she disappears behind the door. When I enter the apartment, she’s unpacking the bag. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I stopped at the pharmacy to get my prescription. It wasn’t ready, so I had a delay.”
I stand in the doorway, trying not to invade her space. Not again. Get in and get out. Give her room. “It’s okay. Did you get what you need?”
“Yes. I also got you something.”
I hadn’t realized I was keeping my eyes glued to the floor until I forced my gaze to her. “You did?”
“Don’t get too excited,” she says with a little laugh. “It was an upsell at the register.” She digs her hands in the bag again, then tosses something silver and small to me.
It’s hard and has little buttons. “What is it?”
“It’s a beatbox. The switch is on the side. I tested it to make sure it worked.”
I roll it around my hand and flip on the switch. Pressing the red button, it kicks into a beat on repeat.
She says, “I know it’s dumb, but I?—”
“It’s not dumb. I like it.” I push the blue button. These beats are the worst. I was hitting better beats in third grade, but what do I expect from a register upsell?
“You do?”
“Yeah. Of course.” I hit the green button because why not? “Thank you.”
Laughter trails across the room. “Glad you like it. I really thought you wouldn’t because the beats are so bad.”
“They’re the worst.”
She laughs even louder. “It’s a gag gift, Shane. You don’t have to keep it the rest of your life.”
“It’s from you, so I’m keeping it.”
My words seem to give her pause, and a fresh smile grows on her face. That’s what stops me in my tracks. She’s breathtaking even when she’s not trying, maybe more so. Looking around, I ask, “What can I take to the car?”
“Let me get my suitcase.” She rushes into the bedroom.
“Suitcase? It’s two days.”
Pulling a carry-on into the living room, she shrugs. “It’s not big, but it was easier to pack the essentials in this. Plus, I could organize by day.” I have no doubt she took the extra step. I once threw out the word orderly like it was an insult. Since then, I’ve worked on getting my life together and have discovered that being organized isn’t such a negative concept to me anymore. Clarity came with more sleep over time.
She pulls a tote bag from the kitchen, looping it around the suitcase’s handle.
I tuck the toy into my pocket and start for the car with her stuff. Scene of the crime is correct for how it made me feel. Shitty. I left when I should have stayed back then, but that’s too much to get to when we’re trying to reach Deer Lake before the day gets away from us.
I click open my car, but before I can load her stuff in, Cat runs out. “I’m taking my car.”
Stopping, I stand there with her carry-on in my arms, unsure if my confusion is evident to her. This wasn’t something I expected. “You want to take both? I assumed we were riding together, but I can load it into your car, if you’d like.”
I’ve given her every out, and she’s still moving forward with this wild plan I’ve thrown at her. She looks at her car, then at mine, and back at hers again, a debate raging inside her. “To be honest, Shane, I worry about being stuck somewhere without transportation to escape.”
My hand rises, my forefinger and thumb sliding outward on my brow. I hadn’t considered how this would make her feel. I just wanted what I wanted, and it’s coming at her expense.
Fuck .
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
“I want to spend time with you, Cat, but I’ll be honest. I never worked out the consequences of what this would mean to you. My intentions were good. I was giving you space, time, and whatever else you wanted to make this happen, but the results are not what they should be. Not for you, anyway. I owe you so many apologies. I don’t know where to start.” My thoughts are shooting like darts in all directions and hoping to land on something solid. I start back for her apartment with her suitcase and bag in hand.
“Hey, Faris?” Just past the stairs that hide her front door from the world, I turn back. Her arms are wide away from her sides, head tilted, the crack of a smile revealing itself. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know anymore.” Truth laid bare. I’m lost when it comes to her.
“I packed my bikini for the lake.” She plays dirty.
I look down, trying to hide the grin that will surely offend if caught on my face. But visions of her in a bikini aren’t easily swept from my head. “What are you saying?”
Her expression softens as she lowers her arms and clasps her hands in front of her. “We should get on the road. The day will disappear before we know it. You know how LA traffic is.”
Our eyes stay fixed for a few seconds before I return to the back of her Toyota. I don’t think we need to have a long-drawn-out conversation. There’s no impasse keeping us from moving forward this time. “Pop the trunk.”
She walks to my car, parked two over, and says, “I was thinking we could ride together.”
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
Shifting on her feet, she moves around me and quirks a smirk. “Maybe we’ll leave the keys on the counter.”
I look down at the keys in my hand. “The keys to my custom-designed Ferrari? My initials were hand-embroidered on the driver’s headrest.”
She kicks a tire as if checking for air. I flinch from witnessing the abuse. “These look like an upgrade as well.”
“They were,” I reply, not liking where this is heading.
“Let me guess, custom?”
“Took two months to make.” I look at the car, then at her again. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand the gravity of the?—”
“Circumstances? I probably understand better than you do as the hostage in this situation.”
Unfortunately, I can’t argue with her. “I’ll leave the keys on the hook by the door. If you want to leave, they’ll be there. Or you can hold on to them all weekend if you prefer. Should I add you to my policy?”
“Not totally unwise. I’ve been in a few little collisions here and there. Once with a curb at In n’ Out Burger that messed up my alignment. Someone dumbly put a concrete pole inside a parking spot at a Target.” She raises a finger like a thought just occurred to her. “And then there was the time?—”
“Okay. Got your point. I’ll make the call.” I don’t care that much about the car, though I keep her spotless and make sure she’s maintained.
She starts to laugh. “I was kind of teasing about the escape.”
I flip the front seat forward to put her stuff inside. “What about the accidents?”
“No, those are true.”
“ Greaaat ,” I say, trying to breathe through the scenario of her wrecking my car that’s currently playing through my head like a movie in slow motion.
“What’s this?”
I look at the front seat where she’s found the itinerary. “I know you like to know what your day looks like, so I printed out a schedule for you.” I’m not saying she cries, but she blinks back some water in her eyes.
“It’s printed on cardstock. Pink cardstock.” I spy her eyes stealing a peek of me before they return to the cardstock.
“Since I was printing it anyway?—”
“Thank you.” Her hand covers her chest as her gaze runs down the schedule. Glancing back at him between the seats, she says, “I’ve never felt more seen in my life.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“It is to me.” She props it up against the console and shuts the door. I’m adjusting the seat back into place when she comes around the back of the car. I lift to my height, and our eyes meet. It’s not a big smile, but it is one that feels genuine and for me. “That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Who knew printing an itinerary out would win the day? Wait until she sees what else I have in store for her.
She steps to the side but then stops and asks, “What is the retreat at eight p.m. tomorrow night?”
I lean against the car and debate how much I want to tell her. “I know you want to know all the details, but do you mind going along with a few of them? It will involve trusting me. I haven’t earned, but?—”
“You’ll earn it back by tomorrow night?”
“I intend to.” I nod.
She nods. “Okay. Can’t wait to see what you have up your sleeve besides that new tattoo you’re currently hiding.” Oh shit. She knows . . .
That tattoo has become such a part of me that I forgot about it being revealed this weekend. That’s a conversation I’ll ease into, preferably after a few beers.
Walking back to the apartment, she says, “I’m going to lock up. Need anything?”
Her and a second chance . She’s giving me both. What more could I ask for? “Do you have a bottle of water?” Except that. I’m thirsty, and I wasn’t planning on stopping.
“I’m surprised we can drink liquids in your custom-designed, hand-embroidered Ferrari.” She saunters off before I can reply, and probably best if I don’t.
It’s a nice view of her ass, but when she walks out, it’s that face and the golden-brown eyes that get me every time. I’m the luckiest fucking bastard in the world right now. And I’m going to make sure she knows it.
I open the door for her and help her slip inside. By the time I’m getting behind the wheel, she asks, “So, you got me. The clock starts now.”