I stepped aside to wait.
A familiar figure came into view. Davis’s broad shoulders curled over a tall glass of amber liquid as he spoke with a man I didn’t recognize. The man appeared amused, but Davis looked grim.
Then I remembered his friend Clayton owned a local bar.
And apparently that was where I’d chosen to order my dinner.
Chapter Seventeen
I huddled deep into my oversize sweatshirt and flipped up the hood, rethinking my need for macaroni and cheese. Was I supposed to approach him? Ignore him? He was with a friend, and frankly, I looked like a person who’d spent all day alone and then walked six blocks in the wind.
Once again, Emily’s words came to me, reminding me how important it is to encourage others.Others might not need me; but they might.Maybe Davis could use another friendly face. I couldn’t help thinking of the rift between him and his father that Kate and Daisy mentioned at the café. Imagining tension of that magnitude with my parents twisted my heart.
“Emma?” The woman behind the counter lifted a bag of takeout overhead, snapping me back from my internal angst.
I inched forward, moving closer to the bar and Davis with each step.
His voice rose above the noise of the crowd to my ears. “It’s complicated. I don’t know where to go from here.”
I turned to watch him, wondering what, if anything, I could say.
“Have you tried the truth?” The man leaning across the bar asked. He wore a name tag withClaytonon it, confirming my suspicion. “She already knows about the magazine.”
I froze. They weren’t talking about Davis’s father. So, who was the “she” in question? Grace? Had he lied to his aunt about something? Didhe have a girlfriend? A vise tightened in my chest. Having a girlfriend would explain why Davis kissed me one minute, as if it meant everything, then ran away the next.
I hated the possibility more than I should. Much more. And I hated myself a little for feeling that way.
But what did the magazine have to do with anything? Did he mean the opportunity for Davis and his work on the manor to be featured inArchitectural Digest?
“I offered to help her move,” Davis said. “Things weren’t supposed to get this complicated.”
I blinked. Stunned. Davis had offered to help me move.
Behind Clayton, the swinging kitchen doors opened and closed with continual traffic, allowing brief glimpses inside. Line cooks worked over steaming grills and stovetops. The appliances held my attention.
The manor’s nearly debilitated stove and problematic water heater came to mind. Not to mention the furnace and allegedly bat-filled fireplace.
Only one of the stove’s burners had worked reliably before I’d fixed the others. It’d baffled me that a previous renter hadn’t complained. Also, Grace had emailed shortly before my arrival to confirm she’d personally given the place an inspection and everything was in working order.
What reason did she have to lie?
Then it dawned on me. I knew Davis’s reason to want me gone.Architectural Digest.
“Order for Emma!”
I snapped back to the moment, taking the final steps to the bar.
Clayton straightened, and his eyes traveled to me as I reached for the bag.
Davis got to his feet in the same heartbeat, eyes wide and lips parted.
I curled my fingers around the takeout. “Thank you.”
“Emma.” Davis barely breathed the word, but I heard it along with everything else I’d missed before now.
My spine stiffened, and I suddenly needed confirmation. “Have you been trying to make me leave the manor?”
His jaw tensed and his expression hardened. He didn’t speak.
