Page 157 of Callan

I felt the same.

I hadn’t talked about my leaving or whether we’d see each other again. And now that we’re still in the car, not rushing to get out or saying goodbye, I suspect that we are headed to a swift ending.

For the most part, we’ve talked about safe topics these past two days—things that he likes or dislikes and things that I abhor.

We didn’t talk about the future, the past, or what would happen next.

He turns the ignition off and glances outside before speaking.

“I can’t be seen at your place,” he says evenly before shifting his eyes to me.

I look at him, waiting.

“It has nothing to do with that woman’s accusation. I haven’t stolen anything from her,” he says before pausing as if hesitating, but nothing else follows his words.

I stay quiet.

“You have to believe me,” he says.

“I do.”

I don’t know what to believe.

But I do think he doesn’t fool me.

He places his hand on my thigh.

“They won’t come knocking on your door anymore. If they do, they’ll deal with my men. I’m saying this so you don’t feel like a sitting target. You’re protected. They shouldn’t have bothered you to begin with,” he says, and I feel a shred of pain in my chest.

“All right?” he says, his eyes hovering over my face and dipping to my lips.

This would be the moment when I asked him whether we’d see each other again. And this would also be the moment when he’d say he doesn’t know.

I’m so sure about his answer that I don’t even want to put myself through the pain of that dialogue.

It doesn’t even matter whether we’ll see each other again.

Obviously, we can’t.

He doesn’t want to be seen with me, which makes sense.

It does.

The way he narrows his eyes with a longing stare and moves his hand up and down my thigh makes me want to climb out of the car, go home, and look for a new place to live.

If he can’t come to my place, and I can’t obviously live at his house, what else is there to do?

He leans toward me, and him kissing me right now feels like running a sharp blade through my heart.

It hurts in the beginning, and then it feels like death.

And sheer abandonment.

Surrendering to him without regret, I enjoy the kiss with all my being.

And so it goes.

What do I have to lose if I tell him the truth?

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