“You did,” he corrects me. “I was just going to let you sleep for a bit in thanks for your tour guiding and then wake you up to let you know I was leaving. But then you were so comfortable, I feel asleep too at some point,” he says sheepishly.
“Mmm.” I rub his cheek. The contrast of his soft skin and his prickly morning beard is just as enticing a combination of sensations as it was last time I touched this face. Not a fluke that first time, then. “When do you have to be at work?”
“My first meeting isn’t till ten, but I do have to review some stuff before it. How about you?”
“I have to be in by eight thirty.”
Beau looks at his watch. “Do you want to get breakfast?”
My first instinct is to say yes and the answer is already halfway out of my mouth before I corral it back and lock it down deep. Because it would be too easy to think that we could have breakfasts together every morning. Too easy to imagine him as being the person I fall asleep next to every night, whether on the couch after a fifteen-hour Netflix marathon, or in bed after really satisfying sex.
But no matter how good it starts out, people leave. It’s not their fault. They always have the best intentions and never mean to hurt you.
But they do.
And Beau doesn’t live here, so it’s not just my wild paranoia thinking he’s going to abandon me; it’s a certainty. It was a selling point to enter in this relationship.
“No, I’ve got to get to work. Maybe a raincheck?” Like after I’ve had time and distance to build back up the ramparts that are a second skin around me. They don’t seem as solid against the charm offensive from this Southern farmer as I thought they would be.
“Whenever you want.” Beau sits up and stretches on the couch. I allow myself the luxury of watching the show for a few seconds. But only a few seconds of the visual feast before I get up.
“Do you want me to call Tom to give you a ride back to your hotel?” I ask.
“No. Like I said last night, I can take the subway.” Exasperation fills his tone.
I stare at him blankly, not wanting to be mean enough to say it out loud after the cozy night we had.
“I have a smartphone. I can handle this.”
Satisfied that he’s going to make it back to his hotel room in one piece, even if I mentally place bets on how long it takes him, I run to my bathroom on the second floor.
“Feel free to use the bathroom downstairs and help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” I call out over my shoulder.
I strip an hour-long morning routine into the basics and I’m back downstairs in thirty minutes.
“All right. Well, time to get to work.” I grab my purse and pick a pair of shoes from the closet near my front door. Favorite pair of velvet burgundy smoking slipper flats found, I slip into them and rise to look at Beau.
His suit is a wrinkled mess and he gave up on his tie, taking it off and shoving it in his pocket haphazardly so bits of it are still hanging out. The first couple of buttons of his shirt are undone and I want so bad to call in sick and get back on the couch, burying my nose in the warmth of his neck again.
But that is kind of the opposite of time and distance, so I force myself to turn to the elevator.
Beau follows me out, close enough that I get the hint of cinnamon. How is he doing that? He can’t have put on any cologne since before our date, which was a solid twelve hours ago.
“I’m excited to see what city Christmas event you’re going to surprise me with tonight,” Beau says.
Now is the best time to implement Mission: Space. “Ah, I don’t think I can make it tonight. I’d love to, but I have some work to finish off.” I take the coward’s way and blame work instead of coming clean about how scared I am of the feelings he inspires in me.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to monopolize all your time.”
“No. It hasn’t been a problem. It’s been a lot of fun showing you around, and we are working together, too. I just have to get some other work done and I’ll have to stay late to do it. We can meet tomorrow to continue the decorating fun.” During business hours.
“Sure. Let me know if you get done with work early and want to meet. I’ll probably be eating mediocre food at a tourist trap.”
“I’ll send you a list of restaurants to help you avoid that fate.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean to guilt you into doing more work for me. I’ll be fine.”
Ahh. Here’s the awkward morning after I was dreading. And I have no one to blame but myself; he’s been wonderful.
