Page 42 of Almost Perfect
He laughed like my response genuinely delighted him. “Okay. Well, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’m wondering if you are open to extending my stay.”
He hummed. “We don’t have any other occupants booked yet, so you’re good. Do you know how much longer?”
“Another two weeks?” Another month? A year?
Not that I could actually live up here that long without regular transportation, but the morning breakfasts had helped the feeling of isolation and the need for sustenance. I’d gotten rides into town twice from Warrick and once from my old pal Jake. And mostly, I didn’t want to go back to reality. I’d been here for just shy of a month and hated the thought that the end was encroaching.
I felt the beginnings of something, and I needed time to figure that out.
Real life was there waiting, but it would be there. I’d shed the habit of being late, but maybe for the return to reality, I’d make an exception and waltz back in a metaphorical twenty minutes behind schedule. Not until after I finished my time here.
So far, all my commitments and obligations had been effectively reassured that things were fine thanks to Kristoffer’s excellent handling of everything in my life other than my physical person. Rad Bickman was furious with me—for questioning him, for refusing to speak to him about my decisions, and likely for generally existing without being controlled by him.
This time of year was awards season, and I hadn’t been nominated for anything, nor had I been asked to present thanks to the headlines. All of that meant it was the perfect time for my little disappearing act, and even if it’d make my manager’s head explode, I wanted more time here.
In fact, maybe the “Rad’s head exploding” bit was like… two percent of the motivation. Not much, but it sweetened the deal.
“Done. And don’t be shy if your dates change again. It’s yours as long as you want it.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. My only request is you consider coming to a lunch with me.”
Oh no. Like a—
“Not like a date. Just to get another body there. It’s a… project I’m working on. And I know a few of the other people who’ll be there. You’ll like them, and you could use some local friends besides me, my dear mother, and that grumpy old man you live next door to.”
I chuckled. I wouldn’t call Wyatt grumpy or old, but he could be very serious. And if that was whatoldlooked like… sign me up.
A knock sounded on my door, and I jogged to open it, swinging it wide. “Speaking of, the man himself just knocked. Text me the details on that lunch. If you’ll give me a ride, I’m there.”
Wyatt’s eyes were a bright, piercing blue against his brown coat and the slowly lightening sky, and his gaze speared into mine. My stomach flipped.
Warrick answered me. “Done and done. Have a good one, and I’ll text you the details. You two kids be good now.”
My cheeks heated at the insinuation, and I clicked off the call and smiled at Wyatt. “Hi.”
“Hi there.”
“That was your brother. He’s a lot.”
He nodded. “I’m just checking on you. Wanted to see if you have any interest in waffles. War said he won’t make it up, and I made too much batter.”
He shifted foot to foot, a move I recognized as a restless one.
People often acted nervous around me. This was nothing new. And yet, Wyatt’s body language was maybe anxious? And it had nothing to do with Miss Mayhem or wanting an autograph or being starstruck. It had to do with… me.
“Sure. Come on in while I grab my coat.” I opened the door and jogged inside, only to realize what I’d done.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding.”
I whipped around with narrowed eyes. “I had no warning.”
His face stayed neutral except for a look of something like mischief in his eyes. “You invited me in.”
“True.”
