A part of me—the part that loathes being taken for weak or needy—wants to tell him that I’m damn capable of deciding what type of sweetener I can put in my drink.
The other, wiser part of me, takes the damn honey because it’s my sweetener of choice.
“You’re early,” he says as we stride toward the exit. “Thought I had at least another twenty or thirty minutes before you arrived.”
I grin into my cup of tea, for whatever reason. “Why’d you get here so early?” Then I wince because the question sounds bratty coming out of my mouth.
“I mean?—”
His chuckle cuts me off. A lump forms in my throat when he slips a hand behind my back to guide me around a couple of commuters and toward the exit.
“I arrived early because you seem like the type who’d come in early.”
“I’m not the only one who likes to show up early,” I counter.
He nods. “You’re not wrong. I have …” He trails off when his phone begins ringing. After pulling it out of his pocket, he quickly sends the caller to voicemail.
I didn’t have time to see the name, but for a second I wonder if it’s another woman calling him. It’s not like Travis and I have an established relationship or anything. And he’s a good-looking guy.
“What was that about?”
I hadn’t even noticed I’d snorted until he points it out.
“Nothing. I’m going this way.” I point toward the opposite street from where he’s still guiding me with a hand at my back. “I want to walk past the marina,” I tell him when he gives me a confused expression.
“Perfect time of day for a walk over there,” he says. “In the afternoons it gets pretty busy. Especially now that the weather’s starting to turn.”
He glances up as if taking in the sun that sits high in the blazing blue sky. My eyes land on his profile, dropping down to his Adam’s apple that bobs up and down. For reasons I can’t quite name, my mouth starts to water.
I take another sip of my tea. That doesn’t quite quench the sudden thirst that’s overtaken me but it’s all I’ve got for now.
“You should see this place during the summers. Obviously, race weekend it’s insane.”
I bristle at the mention of the race, but my eyes dart out, examining the street we’re walking down.
“Are all of the streets in Monaco so windy?” I ask.
“The main one is.”
“And that’s the street you race on, right?” I already know the answer, but I ask in hopes that the answer will be different.
“One of the most challenging tracks of the season,” he says, something like enthusiasm infusing itself into his voice. “Which is what makes it one of the most exciting.”
My heartbeat begins picking up and dark memories start to press against the invisible, mental wall I’ve trapped them behind. It’s been a long time since the panic of those memories has consumed me and I aim to keep it that way.
“Do you like the beach?” Travis suddenly asks right as we come up to the marina.
He’s right, there’s not a ton of people around, though it’s not deserted or anything. It makes the stroll enjoyable.
“Beach, pool, lake. I love swimming,” I say as I stare out at the cerulean waters. “My dad taught me to swim. He loved it,” I say without thinking.
The moment I recall my words, I turn back to Travis to tell him that I can finish the walk to work from here, but my movements are too uncoordinated and my notebook that’s been half hanging out of my bag this entire time slips and falls to the ground.
Travis is quicker than I am, retrieving it. It’s fallen open to this morning’s writing. He glances at it, wrinkling his forehead.
“My new apartment, the ability to do good work through my new job,” he reads the first two items on my list, then looks up at me.
I grab the notebook from him, shutting it and stuffing it back into my bag.
