“Even after a late night, you’re gonna wake up early and have things to do,” he says. “I’ll sleep half the day away, and then the longer I’m around, the more my bad habits will be impossible to hide.”
“Is that part of how we get to know each other better? Hiding our bad habits?”
“Hey, no, Jake—”
I shake my head and cut him off. “I’m not mad or upset or anything like that. You can go home anytime you want. Always. I just don’t want you thinking you need to leave because I might see something I don’t like. You wouldn’t be here at all if that were a concern of mine.”
He frowns for a split second I almost miss, and then he reaches for the side of my face and holds me more gently than most people might imagine. The brush of his nose against mine is hisgoodbye, and it’s just tender enough for me to consider begging for another few minutes of friendship before he goes.
Darren backs away then, and after I’ve pulled my boxers on, I watch him get dressed, something nearly as sexy about it as was true in reverse. He grabs his things, and we’re both quiet when we make our way downstairs, the middle of the night suited for keeping his departure a secret. I expect one more kiss before he goes, but I get a smile instead, and it’s just as good.
When I fall asleep and dream that night, I smile, too.
The following afternoon, I get a perfectly profane text and the not-so-subtle reassurance that my arrangement with Darren hasn’t come to an abrupt end. But then he returns to his late nights at Trailhead, and I stay home with good food and good wine and no company to keep, far from lonely but curious about whether I might want someone around anyway. The temptation to do anything about it is shelved with the reminder that our friendship probably has boundaries I still need to learn, and anything more would require effort we haven’t agreed to make.
Two days after that, I take a closer look at my work schedule to find a solution for something else. I send a text and wait for a call that comes sooner than expected. I fire off a few emails and responses to those trickle in, a reliably busy Monday slowing everyone down. I’m as patient as it takes, but things wrap up assmoothly as I could’ve hoped, and then I pick up my phone again and smile through another text.
Bad news…I can’t beat you at trivia this week. Good news…I’m going to see Lucy and I’ll bring lots of wine with me when I come back.
Darren’s reply appears in seconds.You’re not running away from me are you?
At least part of me is, and I know it. And if he’s asking, he’s already got a decent idea of the answer, too. Either way, I dodge the question.
I haven’t told her about my accident yet. Might as well do it in person so she knows I’m fine.
Okay just gonna say one thing
Go ahead.
Being friends still matters to me more than the rest. Don’t forget that while you’re gone
My sigh pairs well with the shake of my head.I’m bringing back wine and I want to drink it with you. We’re still friends.
Good
He doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t need him to, any invitation to see him before I leave one I would turn down just so neither of us breaks rules we don’t have.
I work hard the next two and a half days, and pack somewhere in between.
And on Thursday afternoon, I make the drive toward Palm Springs.
It’s mid-fall, but still plenty warm in the desert, even if most vacationers have come and gone. When I pull my bike into theparking lot of the sprawling resort, I can already tell it isn’t overwhelmed with guests, and I’d hoped for as much when I’d called Lucy to see if she’d mind a visit. I mumble some small thanks to the blue sky above me as I trade my helmet for my duffel bag and walk toward a lobby that promises to be breathtaking. I’ve never been inside, but Michelle and I stayed at a few nearby places, and the combination of overdone air conditioning, overhead instrumentals, and overwhelming extravagance is familiar years after our last visit.
I make my way to the reception area, where I’m greeted with a grin that might be genuine, and I smile back, giving my name to the young host pulling up my reservation. He types quickly and then looks up at me with wide eyes.
“Oh, Mr. Callahan. You’re Ms. Callahan’s father. She mentioned that you’d be arriving this evening, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice the resemblance.”
Lucy mostly takes after Michelle, but I don’t argue, grateful for the compliment. “No need to apologize. And she doesn’t actually make you call her that, does she? Ms. Callahan?”
“Oh, no, not at all. She hates it. Corrected me on day one,” the host giggles. “But you’re a guest, and her father, and I thought some respect might be due.”
I return the laughter. “Well, you can respect me just fine by calling me Jake. And do you happen to know where I could find—”
“Dad! Why didn’t you text from outside?” Lucy interrupts. “It’s hard to give you special treatment when you sneak in.”
“You know better than to even try that. It’s more than enough that you comped a room I could’ve paid for.”
She rolls her eyes just as I sweep her into a hug, my sigh of relief spun into a kiss to her temple. Her high heels make her about even with me, so we’re eye-to-eye when I drop my gaze to study her perfectly tailored pinstripe blazer and flared skirt, the chocolate brown a delight with her honey colored hair and wise, hazel stare.