“I tried. It doesn’t work.”
I grimace as I take my phone out of my bathrobe’s pocket. I should have listened to Tami and dressed up as something more feminine and alluring. Anything would be better than this for my first real moment with Lex since the breakup.
Once my phone is in its slot on the dashboard, I put my seatbelt on and tell Lex to do the same. Because there might be a God after all, my car starts on the first try.
To my great surprise, Lex gives the dashboard a little graze—as if he were petting a dog. “Good car,” he praises.
This time, I can’t help but laugh as I look at him, incredulous.
“What?”
“I can’t believe you tried to convince me you were sober enough to drive,” I explain.
“I haven’t drinked that much.” He hesitates, frowning. “Drunk?” he tries next. “Drinken. Drank.”
“That’s the one,” I quip with a smile I can’t contain.
I’m still grinning as I drive us out of the parking spot. We’re silent for a few minutes as I make my way through the animated streets of Seattle.
“You’re a slow driver,” he notes after a while.
“If I speed up too fast, the car will stall.”
“It’s a rolling coffin at this point. Why don’t you buy a new one?”
“I’ll buy another one when this one stops working.”
He mumbles his disapproval, but I can’t make it out. After a few seconds, he suggests, “Maybe I should get you a company car or something.”
I frown, keeping my eyes on the road, uncertain what to make of that. He sounds concerned, involved—like he has a say in my life. But he doesn’t. Not anymore. He’s so out of touch, so oblivious to how much I need him to keep his distance, that it almost pisses me off. I have to keep my guard up. I can’t afford to let my heart shatter any more than it already has.
“What you should do, Lex, is remember that you broke up with me. So, what I drive is none of your concern,” I explain, not hiding my sourness.
My words are met with silence. Maybe I was too harsh, but he needed the reality check.
“I deserved that,” he admits after a moment, his gaze fixed on the city outside.
Great. Good job, Andy. Mood officially ruined.
The quiet that follows is suffocating, stretching all the way to his place. But no matter how awkward it is, I know I did the right thing. And by Monday, I have no doubt he’ll be back to his cold, distant self, like tonight never happened.
And maybe that’s for the best.
The ten-minute ride feels like an hour, so when I finally double-park in front of his building, the relief is instant. But as much as I’d like toleave it as that, a thought gnaws at me. This moment, right here—this uneasy, quiet truce—could be the start of something resembling a functional working relationship. And snapping at him earlier? Not exactly the best way to make that happen.
Lex unbuckles his seat belt but doesn’t move to get out. I hesitate, then kill the engine. The street is empty. No passing cars, no pedestrians. Just me and him. And I feel it—how aware I am of his presence, of the weight of everything unsaid between us.
Okay, I tell myself, let’s not make Monday worse than it has to be. Let’s at least end tonight on a good note. With a forced smile on my lips, I turn to him. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I didn’t mean to. I just… I need more time.”
His gray, intense eyes meet mine, his glasses now folded in his chest pocket. He processes my words, his gaze gliding over my features, his focus fleeting.
“It was my fault. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
There. This is good, isn’t it? We’re both being the bigger person, both sorry.
“I thought it would be easier,” he lets out next, taking me by surprise.
“What would be easier?”
