"I can't, Meg. How could I possibly? I can't predict the future. I'm just saying we need to be careful. If you want me to draw up a ten-step plan of action for how we proceed from here, I can't. I'm not going to." He shakes his head. "It's complicated."
"Complicated," I repeat. "What's complicated about it?"
He glances at me, unfolding a newspaper. "Please, Meg."
It's going to be a long fucking flight. Unless I kill him before it's over.
***
When I get home, after I drop my bags on the floor, the only thing I want to do is collapse in bed. But my mind's racing, and there's no way I can possibly calm down enough to sleep.
I gave up on trying to get Adrian to tell me what the hell's going through his head. He buried himself in work for the rest of the flight, and I toyed with the idea of changing to another seat just to make a point about how rude he was being, but I just fumed quietly instead.
The next morning at work, I don't know what I'm hoping for. He'll just keep shutting me down if I try to talk about what happened in Austin. Of course, we don't need to talk about it. I'd just like to continue the activities, but he seems at least passively resistant to that, too.
For now.
All of my nice clothes are still dirty from the trip, but I wear one of the most flattering outfits I have. When I come in with his morning coffee, I take a moment to close my eyes and breathe in his scent. I've always liked it, but it means something different now.
"Here's your coffee," I tell him, softly, setting it down. He doesn't look up. "Do you need anything else?"
He shakes his head.
Fuck it.
"I seem to remember we discussed some other tasks you might need me to complete in the morning," I say, in the most seductive tone I can manage while my heart tries to escape my chest.
He closes his eyes, and sighs heavily.
Not a promising reaction.
"Meghan, sit down." He makes a gesture towards the chair. I do, smoothing my skirt, readying myself for the tongue-lashing of the century. And not in the way I was hoping for.
Adrian interlaces his fingers and looks at me. And he says the last thing I'd ever expect: "Any plans for Thanksgiving?"
What?
"I always have plans for Thanksgiving." I'm wincing at the thought; I can't help it. My family's holidays are about as frigid and hostile as they come, but it's better than spending them alone. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. "Why?"
"There's a book conference in London," he says. "Mostly for locals, as you might imagine from the scheduling. But we could make a big splash there."
We. Seriously? He's not even going to address what happened between us in Austin, and he's already planning the next trip?
"Well, I can't," I tell him. "I'm sorry."
I don't often take a hard line with Adrian, but in a fight between him and my mother, my mother wins. Every time. She makes him look like Mr. Rogers.
"Meghan, come on. I'm giving you the perfect excuse to avoid it." He looks back down at his paperwork. "Just make sure to arrange everything. I don't want to deal with your family drama when the time comes."
I scowl at him. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but…"
"It doesn't matter what I'm trying to accomplish," he growls. His eyes flash, and I swallow hard, finally seeing some hint of the passion I got to know last week. Not exactly how I wanted it, but at least it's a reaction.
A moment later, he calms down. "Just make arrangements, Meg. I'll call you if I need you again."
***
It's the longest workday of my life.
When I get home, as I'm finally dropping my purse on the sofa, making all kinds of murderous plans in the back of my head, I hear my phone buzzing. My heart leaps into my throat, hoping against hope that it's Adrian, calling to apologize.
Seriously? What universe do I think I'm living in?
Toto, we're not in Austin anymore.
I smirk to myself as I pick up my phone, but my smile quickly dies.
Mom.
"Hi, I just walked in. I can't talk long." I'm hoping my brusque demeanor will actually have an effect this time.
"Don't worry. I just need to know when you're getting off for Thanksgiving."
Fuck.
"I told you, I'm taking care of my own tickets."
She laughs. "Don't be ridiculous. Anyway, I need to plan everything. You must know by now - haven't you asked Mr. Risinger?"
I squeeze my eyes shut tightly before I answer her. "Actually, I might have to work through Thanksgiving this year."
"What?" She's so shrill that I wince, pulling the phone away from my ear. "That's ridiculous. Tell him you can't."
"It might not be an option, Mom."
"How is it not an option? There's always an option. If you're really so important to him, he'll find a way to forgive you."
I'm pissed off at Adrian, I'm royally pissed off at my mom, I'm pissed off at the world - but right now, my mom trumps everything. The last thing I want to do is defend his power play, but fuck me, I'm going to.
"I want to do this, Mom. It's important for the company. It's important to me. It's not going to kill me to miss a Thanksgiving." I take a deep breath. "And it won't kill you, either. I'll see you at Christmas."
Her voice is pure venom. "This conversation isn't over, Meghan."
She's not lying.
Chapter Thirteen
I miss you
That's all it is. Three little words, on the screen of my phone.
I stare it them¸ my heart pounding. It's been a week since Austin, I'm just starting to wonder if the whole thing was some kind of insane fever dream.
Another message comes in.
Can we talk?
I sigh, tapping out my answer before I have a chance to think about it too hard.
About what?
He answers quickly.
You know what. I'm sorry, I'm an idiot. But don't torture me.
At that moment, my doorbell goes off. Seriously?
Swear to God, if it's my drunken neighbor who forgot his front door keys again…
I look through the peephole, and my heart drops through my stomach. There's no point in ignoring it - she'll just keep on ringing.
Even though I'm in my pajamas, I yank the door open.
"Mom. Dad. So great to see you, and so unexpected." I offer them a frozen smile. My mom is fuming, my dad lurking in the background with that hollow look in his eyes. She wore him down, like she always does.
"Meghan." My mom breezes in, planting a chilly kiss on my cheek. "Dressed for bed already? Don't you ever go out?"
"Not every night, Mom." I'm hovering in the middle of the room as she wanders through the living room, running her finger along the shelving.