Page 92 of Tempt
“I’ll get the check.”
* * *
My flight left early the next morning, and Zach insisted on taking me to the airport. He drove an unmarked black SUV with tinted windows and spotless black leather interior.
“Wow,” I said, running my hand over the smooth seat. “Is your car at home this clean?”
“Pretty much.”
“My car is the opposite. You would think a bomb went off.”
He laughed. “I noticed that when I moved it at your house.”
“Don’t judge! It’s not dirty, there’s no trash in it or anything. There’s just a lot ofstuffin it—fabric samples, clothing, shoes, water bottles. It’s weird, because inside my house, I’m a stickler for neatness. I like everything in its place, nice and organized. My car is...another story.”
“No judgement. You’d probably take one look in my kitchen and think a fifth grader lived there.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It’s just kind of empty. I don’t own much kitchen stuff, and what I do own is pretty random. Nothing matches. Lots of plastic.”
I laughed. “Now I know what to get you for Christmas.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Mason keeps asking me to come out to Michigan at Christmas. I turned down his Thanksgiving invitation.”
My stomach tensed at the mention of Mason. I tried never to let myself think about him, or I felt too guilty. “Have you spoken to him much?”
“Once or twice since the wedding.”
I nodded, staring at my feet. “Will you visit them?”
“I haven’t decided. What do you think I should do?”
“I’m not making that decision for you, Zach.” I shook my head. “No way. I feel bad enough that I’m complicating your relationship with your son.”
He reached over and took my hand. “Don’t feel bad. I take full responsibility for my decisions. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
I closed my eyes a moment. “Let’s not think about that. Where will you go for Thanksgiving?”
“Probably to Jackson’s. He and his wife are nice enough to invite me to their family dinner every year. What about you?”
“I’ll go to my parents’ house. Frannie always does the turkey, but we all pitch in and help.”
He pulled up at the curb in front of my terminal and put the SUV in park. His hand stole to the back of my neck. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“Me too.”
Leaning across the center console, he pressed his lips to mine, then whispered against them. “Chicago. I’m there on a job the first week in December, and I’ll stay through the weekend. Meet me.”
“God, Zach. I want to. You know I want to.”
“Then say yes.”
I swallowed hard. Every night we spent together only brought us closer. Every kiss made it harder to part. Every goodbye was an inevitable reminder that we had no future.
We couldn’t keep this up forever. Being apart from him was starting to hurt too much. And what possible excuse could I come up with for a trip to Chicago right when I was trying to get a business off the ground? This had to stop.
But when I opened my mouth, that isn’t what came out.
