Page 33 of Ruthless Creatures
“Actually, it’s probably from the same bank as mine. Wells Fargo. Different branch, though, maybe. But these kinds of keys are standard to whichever bank they’re made for.”
My pounding heartbeat falters.
David didn’t have an account at Wells Fargo. He banked with Bank of America.
Even if you could rent a box at a bank you didn’t have an account with… why would you?
Chris holds out the key. I take it from him, my mind going a million miles per hour.
“Great, thanks. I’ll call my parents and let them know I found it. They probably don’t even remember they had the box. When they moved, my dad was going through a lot of health issues.”
“Yeah, you should definitely let them know right away. If those box fees go unpaid long enough, the bank opens the boxes and sends the contents to the state treasurer or auctions them off.”
He chuckles. “I mean, assuming it’s not just a bunch of dirty pictures. Then they just get shredded.”
I don’t ask how he knows all about the rules governing safety deposit boxes. I’ll be in for a thirty-minute monologue. I just nod and try to look impressed and grateful.
“I’ll call them right now. Thanks again, Chris. It was nice to see you.”
I’m about to close the door, but he stops me by blurting, “I think I made a mistake.”
God, why do you hate me? Was it something I did? Do you disapprove of all the vibrators?
I exhale a slow breath. Chris exhales a hard one.
“To be honest, I thought breaking up with you might, you know, light a fire under your ass. Make you realize that maybe you shouldn’t take us for granted. I mean, we get along really, really well.”
Yes, we do. I also get along really well with my dog, my gay hairdresser, and the eighty-year-old librarian at school. None of whom I’m interested in having sex with, either.
I say gently, “I think you’re a great guy, Chris. And that’s the honest truth. You were right when you said I was living in the past—”
He closes his eyes and sighs. “That was such an asshole move.”
“—and I don’t blame you for not wanting to waste your time with someone so… so damaged. In fact, I was thinking maybe I could set you up with my friend Marybeth.”
He opens his eyes and squints at me. “The one who looks Amish?”
I’ve got to talk to that woman about her wardrobe.
“She’s not Amish. She’s really great. She’s smart and sweet and I think you guys would hit it off. Do you think you might be interested?”
He’s giving me a strange look. I can’t identify it, until he says crossly, “No, Nat. I’m not interested. I came here to tell you I still have feelings for you, and that I made a mistake in breaking it off.”
Well, shit.
“I’m so sorry. Um. I don’t know what to say.”
“You can say you’ll let me take you out to dinner tonight.”
We stare at each other in uncomfortable silence, until I say, “I think I’m going to have to pass.”
“Tomorrow night, then. Tuesday night. You name it.”
I say softly, “Chris—”
Before I can finish that sentence, he steps forward and kisses me.
Or tries to, anyway. I manage to turn my head at the last second so his lips land on my cheek as I’m gasping in surprise.
