Say You'll Remember Me(51)

I could not imagine the scenario in which he would look at someone like this and have it not be romantic. It was way too intimate. It was like he was looking in my soul—and my soul was not above getting naked and streaking across the quad.

I was saved by the salads arriving.

We spent the next three hours talking. We had dinner and dessert and then we moved outside to sit by a firepit overlooking the city.

I told him about Mom, Tristan’s chorizo punishment, and the remodel. He told me about work, and the trip he and his friends took up north. He said they went up to Mike’s stepdad’s cabin a couple of times a year. He told me about Maggie and Tina, his only two employees, and smiled when he described how they’re always feeding him and how good at their jobs they are. He said they’re the backbone of his business and he didn’t know what he’d do without them.

I was glad he was surrounded by good people. He deserved that.

I wished I got to be one of those people.

It was so hard being here with him. Probably because it was so easy.

I liked the way he was always giving me stuff. The cherry and orange garnish from his mocktail because he knew I liked them. The mushrooms off his steak when I commented on how good they looked, his jacket when it started getting too chilly.

I didn’t want to wear his jacket. It was date type stuff. But I also didn’t want to have to leave because it was too cold to stay. I promised myself this one dinner. Then I would probably never see him again for real. I didn’t want it to end any sooner than it had to.

He didn’t touch me. Not once. But he did look at me.

He always looked at me. He paid attention when I talked and he gazed at me contemplatively when I didn’t. And every single time I looked in his eyes, my stomach did flips. My heart rate increased. The urge to get closer tugged at my bones.

If this was a test to see if we could ever just be friends, I was failing.

I could not be his friend. I was too attracted to him. Too impressed by him. Too enamored with him.

I had this flicker of a vision of me at his wedding to someone else. Like, maybe we did give the friend thing a go and years had passed and he eventually tells me he’s met someone and they get engaged. I debate not going, but then I tell myself that I’m over him and as a friend I should show up. It would be weird if I don’t show up. And then I get there and I break down sobbing when I see them together at the altar and end up back at my hotel room alone, drinking vodka straight from the bottle.

No. Xavier could never be just my friend.

But he couldn’t be my boyfriend either.

We would only have the UFO.

The restaurant was starting to clear out around us. I looked at my watch.

“We should probably go,” I said. “It’s getting late.”

I couldn’t be sure, but I think he looked as disappointed as I felt.

We walked out through the restaurant to the front. He opened the door for me and handed the valet our ticket. Then we went to watch the koi in the pond, looking down on the white-and-orange fish swirling around until our car came. It was weird standing there next to each other, like we had that day on the pier, only without him putting an arm around me.

The ride home was quiet.

When we pulled into the driveway, he parked behind the Dart and walked me up to my door.

This was it. Our last goodbye.

The porch light was on, moths fluttering around the bulb. The air smelled sweet, one of Grandma’s flowers blooming somewhere in the garden.

Xavier stood there with his hands in his pockets. “It was really nice seeing you,” he said.

“Yeah. You too. What time does the conference start tomorrow?”

“I think lectures start at eight.”

I nodded, looking anywhere but at him, like looking at him would be a language all its own and a conversation I wasn’t supposed to be having.

“Do you want to go to breakfast tomorrow?” he asked.

The question made me look up. “How? You have to leave at like six a.m. to make it there by eight.”

“I can skip it. We could take the boys somewhere if you want. Or we could do dinner if you already have plans. I could come over Sunday too…”

I pulled my face back. “What do you mean you can skip it?”

“I won’t go. Just tell me when I can see you.”

I blinked at him. “You came all the way over here to go to that. Why would you not go to that?”

Silence.

I gave him a wary look. “Xavier…”

“What?”

“There is a conference,” I said.

He was quiet for a beat. “Yes, there is.”

“It’s important for your continued education requirement,” I said, repeating what he’d told me.

“Yes.”

I paused. “Are you registered for it?”

Silence again.

“No,” he said. “No, I’m not.”

I stared at him. “Are you kidding me…?” I breathed.

He just peered at me. Those beautiful blue eyes, looking apologetic.

“Xavier!”

“I’m sorry—”

“You flew here for me,” I deadpanned. “You came all the way over here under false pretenses in the hope that I would go out with you.”

“I had to see you—”