Page 89 of What I'm Looking For

I close the door as she mumbles, “You don’t need to be an asshole about it. Jeez.”

Hoping there’s food left, I head to the kitchen. I’m suddenly starving.

Five minutes later, as I pick at half-filled platters of grilled ribs and chicken, Deb walks in.

“Good party?” I ask, mouth full.

She flops into a chair. “Yeah, but I’m exhausted.” She looks around the kitchen. “Have to start cleaning up soon.”

She doesn’t move, a tired but satisfied smile on her face. Deb does love to throw a party. Then her brow furrows. “What happened with Kate?”

I swallow. “I told you. We’re taking a break. Or something. I’m not sure. I might call her tomorrow.”

“No, I mean. She was here. Then she left.”

I look up from perusing the platter. “She was here? When?”

“Like, four o’clock? We chatted, and then she went looking for you in your room. Two minutes later she practically ran out of the house. I tried to ask her if something was wrong, but it was so crowded she probably didn’t hear me. And then I got distracted with a baking emergency. I guess the oven timer had been going off for like fifteen?…”

As Deb goes on about a burned pan of brownies, the meat I’d just scarfed down drops to the pit of my stomach along with a big pile of dread.

“There’s nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.”

Feeling more like Desdemona than Hamlet, I grab the keys to my bike.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Deb calls after me.

“I’ll tell you later,” I yell back, hoping I’ll have a comedic story to share rather than a tragic one.

Halfway to Kate’s place, it starts to rain. I slow the bike to be safe, but I’m not turning around. It’s perfect weather for my state of mind, anyway.

* * *

“Will. What are you doing here?”

I jerk upright. Once I got to Kate’s place, the skies had really opened up. She wasn’t home, so I sat on the stoop to wait for the weather to pass. I must’ve fallen asleep.

She’s at the bottom of the steps, mad as a wet hen. As soaked as one, too.

I stand shakily, hand on her front door to steady myself. “Can I talk to you?” I ask, my voice scratchy.

She just stares at me, chest heaving, and I realize she’s covered in mud on one side. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Well, depends on what you’re talking about.” She indicates her dirty shirt, shorts and legs with a brisk gesture. “I got splashed by a truck that drove through a mud puddle right next to me. So I really need a shower. If you’re talking about this”—she draws a sharp line back and forth between us—“I thought we were taking the weekend to think things over. I didn’t think that included sleeping with other people.”

So she did see Callie in my bed.Fuck.

“Excuse me, I would like to go inside my house.”

I let her pass but block her front door with my hand when she tries to close it in my face. “Kate, please.”

Her eyes are blazing when they meet mine. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to apologize.”

I drop my arm, blowing out a breath. “What you saw this afternoon? Please believe me, it wasn’t what you think.”

She huffs out a bitter laugh, looking anywhere but at me. “Isn’t that how these explanations always begin?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m sorry you saw what you saw and that it hurt you. But—here’s what happened.” I take a big breath and then let it out again. It feels like I only have one chance and I want to get this right, but my mind is still foggy.

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