Lonely, Bobby. It feels lonely.
I scrunch up my nose. “Not very glamorous, is it? But I’ve got a great creative team and we’re really starting to make things happen. So what have you been up to?”
“I started a project of my own a couple of years ago. It’s really starting to turn into something.”
“Really?”
I blush. I didn’t want to sound so surprised, but that is so unlike Bobby. When we were together he had no plan or direction. It was one of our issues. So why the change? Oh shoot, he does have a girlfriend.
“What kind of business? I’d really like to hear about it,” I say quickly.
“It’s more something you have to see to get, Kaley. But I should warn you, it’s definitely less glamorous than this.”
Bobby’s dry humor, part self-deprecating and part delightfully him. I instantly feel buoyant inside and begin to laugh.
“We always were a glamorous couple,” I tease.
The smile rises fully to his lips and takes my breath away. “No, we were a lot of things, Kaley, but not that.”
I feel my body slapped with a chill. Shit, I didn’t expect that one and it certainly wasn’t something I wanted to hear.
“Well, I’ve got to run and get some lunch. I have a meeting in a couple hours,” I announce, and instantly regret it. Why did I put an abrupt end to this encounter with such decisive words?
I stare up at Bobby, trying to read his face.
“Eating alone?” he asks.
“Sort of,” I reply cautiously. “I plan to call Zoe while I eat.”
“You still have Zoe?”
The way he says that reminds me that Zoe was Bobby’s friend before mine, that our breakup made that relationship a mess, and that I inherited Zoe more because Bobby stepped back than actually winning the preferred-friend war post couple split.
“I still have Zoe.” I wait for a response. Nothing, just a slight smile, and I hate that I still feel so badly about this. “You should call her, you know. She really misses you. It’s perfectly cool with both of us.”
“Thanks for the permission,” he says and there’s an edge to his voice. “I might just do that.” He pauses and the silence feels heavy and I feel like I’m struggling to come up for air. “Did it ever occur to you that my not contacting Zoe has nothing to do with you?”
My face heats with a burn. What was the purpose of that comment? To point out my vanity or how trivial I am to him?
“I just wanted you to know she misses you. You do what you want.”
“What I want to do is join you for lunch. Is that OK?”
The question rockets through my veins like an adrenal rush.
“We can both stand up Zoe today for a change,” he teases and I smile before I can stop it.
“I was just going down the street for some Mexican food.”
Bobby shrugs. “That sounds fine to me.”
Not trusting my voice, I nod and start to head in the direction of Hector’s.
“How are your folks?” he asks.
I stare up at him. Polite, make-do conversation. That’s something new for Bobby. He was never one for light pleasantries.
“They’re good,” I reply, making a right turn at the corner. “Mom asks about you all the time. You should stop in and see her. How are your folks?”
“The same as ever. Linda asks after you. You should take your own advice and stop in and see her.”
Again, that cutting edge out of nowhere. I nod. “I’ll do that soon.” I stop at the restaurant doors. “Is this OK with you?”
Bobby laughs. “Fine with me. I’m surprised it’s fine for you. I don’t remember you being a dive restaurant kind of girl.”
“A lot about me has changed, Bobby. There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
Those penetrating green eyes lock on me. Crap, what had made me say that? I’m stumbling over my tongue every other sentence.
He pulls open the door. “I could say the same to you.”
“Excuse me? You’ve lost me.”
“A lot has changed about me. There’s a lot you don’t know.”
Some sort of internal alarm sounds and I freeze just inside the entrance. Oh no, is Bobby going to tell me he’s married? Is that why he wanted to have lunch today? So I would hear it first from him?
All through lunch I keep doing it. I can’t stop myself. I keep looking for a ring. He’s not wearing one. It’s not like he made it disappear and it will miserably reappear when I’m least prepared for it. And it’s not like he slipped it off when he saw me. Bobby is not that kind of guy.
I push my enchilada around the plate with my fork. “This is nice, Bobby. I’m glad we’re doing this. I hope it means you’re ready to start being friends again.”
“Friends. That would be nice, Kaley.” He wipes his lips with his napkin and eases back into his chair. He studies me. “I wasn’t sure you were fine with this. You’ve hardly said a word since we started eating.”
I shrug. “I guess I just don’t have much to say.”
“That would be a first.”
I glare, but I laugh. “Be nice.”
He doesn’t laugh. Instead, his gaze sharpens on my face. “I am being nice, Kaley. I came to you. I got tired of waiting.”
What? Did I just hear what I think I heard?
Before I can respond, he says, “How’s your afternoon looking? Do you have time to take off and come see something with me?”
My afternoon? There is something. I’m sure of that, but I suddenly can’t remember a single thing.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I want to show you where I’ve been living. What I’ve been doing. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Interesting? Why would I find it interesting?
“So do you think you can cut out for a few hours?” he asks, watching me expectantly.
I focus my gaze on the table, wondering if I should go, wondering why I debate this, and what the heck I have on my calendar that I can’t remember. God, this is weird, familiar and distant at once, and I haven’t a clue what I should do here.
I stare at his hand, so close to mine, on the table. Whoever thought it would be so uncomfortable not to touch a guy? It doesn’t feel natural this space we hold between us, spiced with the kind of talk people have who have known each other intimately. What would he do if I touched him?
His fingers cover mine and he gives me a friendly squeeze. The feel of him runs through my body with remembered sweetness.
Suddenly, nothing in my life is as important as spending the afternoon with Bobby, and for the first time in a very long time I don’t feel like a disjointed collection of uncomfortably fitting parts. I feel at ease inside myself being with Bobby.
I stop trying to access my mental calendar and smile up at Bobby. “I’ve got as much time as you need.”
Bobby chuckles and his hand slips back from me. He rises and tosses some bills on the table. “Just a few hours, Kaley. I’ll have you back before the end of the day.”
I rise from my chair and think not if I figure out fast how not to blow this.
Even sitting with an unwanted distance between us on the front bench seat of Bobby’s old truck, every part of me is connected and reacting to him. I want nothing more than to slide closer, to feel him, to taste him, but instead I sit silently smiling, drinking in the sight of him and fighting the wind from the open windows as it turns my tamed curls into—what will surely be before this drive is over—a Chia Pet.
“I can’t believe you still have Bertha,” I say, studying the aged ’60s Ford dashboard and shaking my head.
Bobby laughs. “She’s a classic, Kaley. I’m never getting rid of this truck.”
“She’s an old, gas-guzzling heap without air conditioning.”
Bobby grins in a boyishly charming way. “You’ve forgotten. We added air conditioning.”
He turns on the small orange windup fan mounted on the dash. I start to laugh and then the laughter leaves me because I remember the day we put the fan there and I am painfully aware of how much I’ve missed him.