Page 31 of The Run Option

I finish starting the coffee, then we walk up the stairs in silence. Once we reach the top, I turn on the hall light. Lining the walls are family photos. I don’t gesture to them, or even pause so he can look them over. Each one holds a memory before Grandaddy died, and my emotions are pulled too taut tohandle looking at them. Instead, I walk to the end of the hall where my room is. Ever since I was born, it’s been mine. It’s gone from a nursery with a crib to a playroom with a twin bed, to a teenager’s haven with a plush queen bed, soft quilt, and a window overlooking the horses’ pasture.

“This is my room when I stay here,” I tell him as I open the door and turn on the lights. “The other two rooms up here aren’t much to see. One is a guest bed for when my parents come to stay, and the other holds Granny’s craft supplies.”

Jason nods as he makes his way around the room, his movements slow and intentional. I stay by the door, my arms crossed over my chest in a protective stance. I try to view the room through his eyes instead of someone who’s been here thousands of times.

The fabric on my quilt is a bit worn since I’ve had it since elementary school. Granny offered to make me a new one or patch up this one, but I refused. I love it too much to part with it or change it. There are a few thrifted paintings on the wall, from when I used to go to estate sales with Granny every summer. One is of a horse with a barn that looks identical to the one my grandaddy built out back. The others are different landscapes. My old desk has a few notebooks on it, and a couple of honors awards that my parents didn’t have room for so Granny said she’d keep them for me.

“How often were you here?” Jason asks, drawing me out of my childhood memories.

“Every summer since kindergarten,” I answer.

He runs his fingertips over the quilt as he passes it, and I feel his touch as if it were against my skin instead.

“I knew you must have spent a long time here. It feels like you.”

“How can you say that when we barely know each other?”

He smiles, not at all offended by my question. “I think you want us not to know each other as well as we do.” His answer hangs in the air between us for a moment. I’m about to swat it away when he speaks again. “But aside from that, all these colors are the ones you decorated with back at your apartment. It’s cozy and warm.”

I don’t like that he noticed so much. He’s not supposed to pay that much attention to the details of my life. Except, he is. He’s going to be myhusband. I’m supposed to know about him, too. By the time we separate, we’re liable to know each other better than anyone else out of sheer necessity. If we don't, the ruse will be revealed, and all our efforts for nothing.

The idea of Jason knowing me better than anyone has my throat tightening. It’s becoming all too clear that I haven’t thought this through enough, but it’s too late. I can’t back out now. If I do, I’ll abandon Granny Mae and her medical bills.

“Coffee’s ready!” Granny yells up the stairs, making me jump.

“Coming!” I call back, thankful my voice doesn’t shake.

“Are you all right?” Jason asks, walking toward me.

I take a step back. “I’m fine, let’s go get this over with.”

He frowns. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

We walk downstairs and panic rises with each step. Jason’s large, warm hand grabs mine and squeezes it softly. I look up at him in surprise. After my earlier remarks, I didn’t expect such a soft expression from him.

“We’re in this together, okay?” he whispers as we walk.

“Okay,” I whisper back.

He stays by my side as I pull down a tray and pour three cups of coffee into mugs. After that, I grab a ceramic sugar canister Granny keeps by the coffee pot and a jug of vanilla creamer out of the fridge. The entire time, Jason leans on the counter, watching me. It doesn’t feel like scrutiny though. More like he’smaking sure I’m okay. He’s like a strong pillar for me to lean on, only I’m scared he’ll crumble beneath the weight if I try to.

In the living room, Granny has turned her recliner to face the couch, where she’s expecting us to sit. I hand her a mug–she drinks her coffee black–and busy myself with fixing my own at the coffee table. Two spoons of sugar go in first, then a splash of creamer. I’m stirring when Granny speaks up.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re wearing an engagement ring or does the cat still have your tongue?”

I drop the silver spoon, coffee sloshing over the side of the mug. Jason grabs a napkin and dabs it up, giving me an encouraging smile. I abandon my coffee and wring my hands in my lap.

“Jason and I are engaged,” I blurt out. “We’re getting married next weekend at the botanical gardens.”

Granny’s thin brows raise. I glance at Jason, my nerves flaring. He looks caught off guard by my bad delivery as well.

“You’re marrying the man who, just a few days ago, you told me was obnoxious.” Granny doesn’t mince words.

Thankfully, Jason looks more amused than hurt.

“That’s one of her pet names for me,” he says, and Granny lets out a surprised laugh.

“Since you seem quick on your feet, why don’t you tell me why my granddaughter is telling me she’s getting married a week before her wedding?”

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