I don’t see anything hockey-related on the TVs over the bar, but I do a double-take as I catch sight of a middle-aged man seated there. I swear I remember him from the gym. I think he was walking on a treadmill about five or six machines down from me. He’s got a beer and the bartender is just setting down a plate of sliders in front of him. Looks like I’m not the only one undoing all the exercise I just did.
I look back at my mother to find her watching me carefully.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you embarrassed by me?” she asks. “Is that why you won’t let me meet this man?”
I sigh deeply. “It’s not you, Mom.”
And if I’m being honest, it really isn’t her that’s the problem.
She frowns. “Your father?”
“No, not him either.”
I don’t think my dad told her he came to see Ash yet.
“Then who?”
It’s me, I want to say, but my mother will never buy the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ argument.
But it is me.
Meeting Ash’s parents was one thing. If something happens, and things don’t work out between us, I’ll never have to see those people again. But if things don’t work out between him and me, and he’s metmyparents, I’ll have to live with their pitying looks for weeks. My mother will inevitably love Ash – Because what’s not to love about him? – and then I’ll have to deal with the disappointment in her face when I explain why we broke up.
My mother’s disappointment will be there no matter what, but at this point, I’d rather not build the memories that will make it that much more a stab to my heart if I lose Ash.
I hear Celena tsk at me in my head for imagining my breakup withhim before we’ve even had a chance to enjoy our relationship.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I tell my inner Celena.
My mother is still looking at me, waiting for me to tell her why she can’t meet Ash.
Because I’m terrified of letting him into my life, I want to say. Because every thread that ties him closer to me is one more potential frayed edge when we inevitably rip apart.
Because I already think I’m in love with him, and I just…can’t be.
“I’ll see what I can do, Mom,” I say.
It’s a vague promise to buy me time until I can figure out how to un-fall in love with Ash Gunnarsson.
Chapter 33
Gray
A knock sounds on my office door the next day, and I look up to find Ash in the threshold. My heart does its usual stutter step to see him.
“You’re back,” I say, surprised. “I didn’t realize your plane was in already.” I look at my phone, but there are no messages from him. “Why didn’t you text when you landed?”
Part of me wants to get up and go to him, to literally jump into his arms and kiss him, but a couple things stop me. First and foremost is that I’m at work, and I need to stay professional. Next, but secondarily, is that I’m extremely busy right now. One of my grad students needs me to review her study proposal, and my winter session class just turned in outlines for their research papers, so I have to give feedback.
Ash’s road trip went well – two wins in three games – so I assume he’s not here out of frustration. I’m not sure whether to take him seriously when he says he’s been using sex with me as his happy memory for stress inoculation, but I’ll let myself think it’s true for now.
I’m nervous about why he didn’t message me before coming to my office, though, and I eye him warily as he enters and closes the door behind him. I swear I hear the lock click, and he turns to face me with the hint of a grin on his face.
“Ash?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
“You don’t have class until 1:15, right?” he says.
