Chapter Seven #3
“The gala is Saturday,” she continued. “The arrangement ends Saturday.”
“I remember.”
“Then Tuesday was not part of it.”
“No.”
The single word held more than agreement.
Aaron looked at her with a steadiness that made retreat difficult.
“Tuesday was something I wanted.”
Meagan’s chest tightened.
“You cannot begin building a future around me because we kissed once.”
“I didn’t.”
“You reserved a court.”
“That is not a future.”
“It is the beginning of one.”
Silence fell.
Aaron took a slow breath.
“You’re right.”
The immediate agreement did not soothe her.
“I should have asked,” he said. “I let myself believe that because you had not booked a flight, there was room to hope.”
“There is room to hope.”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Aaron’s expression changed.
Meagan looked away.
“That does not mean you can decide what happens.”
“I know.”
She turned back.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
His answer was firm now.
“I made one assumption. It was unfair. I’m sorry.”
The apology was exactly what she should have wanted.
It left a strange ache behind.
Aaron reached into his pocket, removed his phone, and tapped the screen.
Meagan watched him.
“What are you doing?”
“Canceling the court.”
Her chest tightened.
“You do not have to cancel it.”
“You said you may not be here.”
“I may not.”
“Then I’ll ask you first.”
He finished and slipped the phone away.
The future he had imagined disappeared in less than ten seconds.
Meagan had asked for that.
The loss still hurt.
Aaron studied her face.
“I’m not trying to make decisions for you.”
“I know you’re not.”
“I forgot for a minute that hoping you would stay is not the same as having permission to plan on it.”
The words reached her carefully.
Meagan looked down at the dark blue dress.
She had wanted him to want Tuesday.
She had simply not been prepared to discover that he did.
“I should change,” she said.
Aaron nodded.
“Okay.”
The distance returned. This time, she had created it deliberately.
Aaron moved toward the door.
“Aaron.”
He stopped.
Meagan did not know what she intended to say.
That she was glad he had reserved the court?
That seeing herself inside his next week had frightened her because part of her wanted to be there?
That the problem was not his assumption.
It was how much she wished he had been right.
“I’m glad you saw the dress,” she said instead.
His expression warmed, but caution remained beneath it.
“So am I.”
“And I’m still glad you’re coming Saturday.”
Aaron held her gaze.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
He opened the door.
Amanda nearly fell into the room. She caught herself against the frame.
“I was walking past slowly.”
Meagan stared at her.
“That excuse was unconvincing the first time.”
Tyler stood farther down the hallway holding his phone and looking deliberately toward the living room.
Aaron stepped into the hallway.
Amanda looked between them.
Her expression shifted.
She had heard enough to understand the mood. For once, she did not ask a question.
Aaron walked toward the living room. At the end of the hallway, he looked back.
His gaze found Meagan in the dark blue dress.
The wonder was still there. So was the restraint.
Then he turned away.
Meagan closed the door.
She looked at herself in the mirror. The dress had not changed. She still looked confident.
Visible.
Like a woman prepared to enter a room and be noticed.
She did not feel like that woman anymore.
Not entirely.
Aaron had made a mistake. A small one. He was hopeful. He was human.
He had imagined Tuesday because he wanted her there.
Meagan had corrected him because the assumption frightened her.
Now Tuesday had been canceled, and the room felt emptier because of it.
She changed into a black wrap dress that Amanda had approved as rehearsal appropriate but insufficiently devastating.
By the time she entered the living room, Aaron stood near the front door with Tyler and Jack.
Jack wore a pale gray suit and held two garment bags over one shoulder.
Amanda stood beside him adjusting his tie, though the tie appeared straight.
“You own a tie clip,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t you wearing it?”
“Because you bought one shaped like a tiny volleyball.”
“It is thematic.”
“It is round.”
“That is how volleyballs work.”
Jack saw Meagan and looked toward Aaron.
Then back at Meagan.
His expression became amused.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
“Aaron has been standing here for three minutes without participating in the conversation.”
Meagan looked at Aaron.
He held his jacket in one hand. His gaze rested on her again. Not with the stunned intensity from the guest room.
Something quieter. More guarded.
“I was distracted,” he said.
The words would have warmed her earlier.
Now they carried the weight of Tuesday morning.
Amanda picked up her purse.
“We should leave before Evelyn cancels our invitations.”
“She cannot cancel mine,” Aaron said.
“She can make your life unpleasant.”
“She already does.”
Hailey entered from the kitchen.
“Everyone ready?”
They moved toward the front door.
Aaron opened it and waited for Meagan.
She stepped onto the porch beside him.
The afternoon sun had softened toward evening. A breeze moved along the street, lifting the ends of her hair.
The others walked toward their cars.
Aaron remained beside her.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly.
“You already apologized.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you saying it again?”
“Because I don’t want you to think I’ve confused wanting more with being entitled to it.”
Meagan looked at him.
The answer was so specifically Aaron that the tension inside her softened despite every effort to preserve it.
“I don’t think that.”
“You looked like you did.”
“I looked frightened.”
His expression changed.
“That is not better.”
“No.”
She held her purse against her side.
“You planned Tuesday.”
“I did.”
“And when I objected, you canceled it.”
“I did that too.”
Meagan looked toward his SUV. The passenger door waited.
Another plan she had not made. Another place beside him she wanted to occupy anyway.
“I didn’t want you to cancel because I didn’t want to play,” she said.
Aaron went still.
“I wanted you to cancel because I had not decided whether I was allowed to want Tuesday.”
Hope appeared in his expression.
He did not move closer.
“What do you want now?”
The question frightened her less than it had that morning.
Not because she had an answer for New York. Because she had one for tonight.
“I want you at the gala.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I want you to pick me up.”
His shoulders eased slightly.
“Six?”
“Yes.”
“And Tuesday?”
Meagan looked at him.
“Ask me Sunday.”
Aaron’s mouth curved.
“That sounds fair.”
“It is not a promise.”
“I know.”
“It is not permission to reserve anything.”
“I understand.”
“You look pleased.”
“I like progress.”
Despite herself, Meagan smiled.
Aaron opened the passenger door. She paused before climbing inside.
“Daniel is not the reason anymore.”
Aaron’s hand went still against the door.
“The reason for what?”
“Why I want you beside me Saturday.”
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Aaron looked at her as though the street, the cars, and the people waiting nearby had disappeared again.
Meagan understood then that the dress had not created his reaction.
Neither had the kiss.
Or Daniel.
Aaron looked at her like she was the only woman in the room because, when he was with her, she was the person he chose to see.
Her throat tightened.
She climbed into the SUV before emotion made the moment impossible to manage.
Aaron closed the door gently. As he walked around the vehicle, Amanda lowered her window from the car beside them.
“Did she tell you about the dress?”
Aaron opened the driver’s door.
“I saw it.”
Amanda pressed both hands together. “And?”
Meagan turned toward her.
“Amanda.”
Aaron climbed into his seat.
His gaze moved to Meagan before he answered.
“She’s wearing it.”
The quiet certainty in his voice sent warmth through her again.
Amanda cheered.
Jack pulled away from the curb before she could ask another question.
Aaron started the engine.
Meagan fastened her seat belt.
Her phone buzzed inside her purse. A message from her supervisor waited on the screen.
Please confirm Monday return plans by tomorrow.
Meagan read it once. Then locked the phone.
Saturday, Aaron would stand beside her.
Sunday, he would ask about Tuesday.
Monday still belonged to New York.
The future remained a series of questions neither of them had permission to answer alone.
Aaron pulled away from the curb.
“Ready?” he asked.
Meagan looked at him.
“No.”
His smile appeared.
“Honest.”
“I am trying something new.”
“How does it feel?”
“Highly inefficient.”
“Still counts.”
Meagan turned toward the window.
The ocean appeared between the houses ahead, bright beneath the lowering sun.
She was no longer nervous about facing Daniel.
She was nervous about what would happen after the gala.
Because Aaron had made one small mistake.
He had imagined her in his future.
And for one dangerous moment, Meagan had imagined herself there too.