Page 90 of What I'm Looking For

“Can you make it quick? This is really uncomfortable. The mud. But also the conversation.” Jaw clenched, she hugs herself, eyes on the floor.

“Sure.” I shove my hands in my pockets, clenching them. “Short story is that I was awake for, I don’t know, like two days straight because the movie and everything. Middle of the party, I went to lie down for a few minutes, and next thing I know I’m waking up and it’s dark and Callie is in bed next to me, passed out. I had no idea that she was even in town, I swear.”

Her eyes dart up to mine.

“Somehow she just found her way into my bed. When I talked to Deb, she said you’d been there and that you’d left in a hurry. So, I’m figuring that you came in my room and saw me and Callie in bed together and assumed that we’d slept together?”

“Well, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Wincing, I hold up a hand. “But that’s not what happened. Please believe me.” My heart’s pounding away inside my chest. I resist the urge to cross my arms over it.

She takes in a deep breath and shudders it out again. “I really need to shower and put on dry clothes.” She holds my gaze for a long moment, her face tight, then seems to come to a decision. “Do you want to wait?”

“Sure. I’ll try not to fall asleep again.”

She gives me a dark look before heading straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I go to her kitchen, hoping there’s some coffee I could heat up, but the pot is empty.

A week ago, I would’ve just brewed some. Today, that feels wrong.

I sit at the table to wait. Moments later, her phone rings and the machine picks up.

BEEP.

Hey Kate, it’s Steve. Just wanted to get your parents’ address so I can send them a thank you note while I’m thinking about it. Golf with your dad was awesome, like the rest of the weekend. My mother would kill me if I didn’t write. And let me know about coming to the Vineyard. Oh, and that thing we were talking about? Microfinance? I realized there’s someone I know who could tell you more about it. Let’s be sure to talk tomorrow. And, uh, I hope we’re good after the kiss and all.

When the machine clicks off, I just stare at it, feeling like I just got the wind knocked out of me. Kate was angry with me about Callie but all the while, she took Hot Steve to the wedding? And they’d kissed? Then, on top of ‘the kiss and all,’ whatever that means, they’re going to the Vineyard together?

I was right. A guy from her world is what she’s been looking for all along. Someone who fits in with her family and can take her on fancy vacations. It was ridiculous to think we ever could have made it as a couple. She probably came over yesterday to break it off with me for good. Without ever confessing that she already started up with Hot Steve.

I need to get out of here.

Halfway out the door, I hesitate. Pressing my forehead to the glass, I blow out a breath. I should leave her a note. That way, maybe it’ll end without any more drama.

Of course, oh-so-organized Kate keeps a pad of paper and a pen right next to her machine.

I’ll stick the note on the fridge and be gone before she’s out of the shower. Then I’ll never have to see her again.

KATE

When I step out of the shower, I’m feeling a lot calmer. I had every right to jump to the conclusion that Will and Callie had had sex. They were in bed, they were both half-naked, and she was snuggled up right next to him. Also, Callie’s a costume designer, so she and Will have similar schedules and values and incomes and everything.

Whereas Will and I have similar nothing.

But maybe that’s a good thing.

By the time I’ve thrown on shorts and a shirt and shoved my hair into a ponytail, I’m ready to talk. We argued, we have some things to figure out, but we’ll move on from this. The sexual chemistry between us, the way we make each other laugh and challenge each other—those are all more important than things like schedules.

The money thing, that’s fixable, too.

Kissing Frankie on the nose, I open the bedroom door, ready for a new chapter with Will.

As I walk toward the kitchen, I catch a flash of movement by the front door.

“Will?”

He stops but doesn’t turn around. His hand grips the doorknob. His shoulders are a wall.

I take a few tentative steps toward him. “Did something happen?”

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