“I think we have better ones.” He winks at me, his competitive nature glazing his eyes as he downs the rest of his drink. To my pleasant surprise, he refrains from his aggressive slurpage and slides the cup to the edge of the table. Eric was always ruthless on the field and in every aspect of life, so I’m not surprised that he’s mentally cataloging and comparing sunsets. Something universally beautiful is still fair game in his mind.
“Always the competitive one.” I smile, leaning back in my chair to face him.
“Doesn’t beat an Oklahoma one, though.”
“Oh?” I look at him, surprised.
“Yeah, just something about the sunrise over our field before class started…can’t beat it.” He lets out another sigh, this one sounding more defeated than the last.
“Eric…” I pause as his daydream eyes refocus on me. “Have you talked to Dawson about this? About feeling stretched thin? Maybe you need to mention that you need to go home every once in a while.”
He rakes his hand down his face and over his chest, rubbing a circle in the center of his sternum—his tell when he’s uncomfortable. “I know. I’m just afraid to piss him off. I don’t want to ruffle feathers by being upfront about what I want.”
“That’s never stopped you before.” I grin at him. He returns it and checks his watch.
“Listen, I gotta run. Do you want to have dinner tonight? There’s this really nice Italian place a block from the hotel.” He sounds so hopeful and sincere, and my heart breaks at the thought of turning him down.
And then the thought of telling Malcolm hits me, making my stomach churn, threatening to send my coffee traveling up my esophagus and onto this table. No matter how many times he denies it or simply avoids the question when I ask if he’s okay with this, his sleeping on the couch last night was answer enough. Malcolm is not okay with me seeing Eric.
But I know Eric. He was all I ever knew for three years, and I can tell he needs someone right now. What exactly I have to offer him, I don’t know. But I’ve had more than enough time to heal from our breakup, so surely a simple dinner, chatting about our jobs and our families, will be harmless enough.
“Dinner sounds great.”
Chapter nineteen
Malcolm
I spent years inthe desert with only a bar of soap and a three-pronged comb for maintenance. We’d go days without a shower because we were so exhausted that we’d just collapse onto our cots, still fully dressed in our combat uniforms. My beard resembled a tumbleweed most of the time. So, it’s understood that my morning appearance shouldn’t faze me. But when I woke up this morning with my face plastered to the side of the leather sofa, looking like I stuck my fingers in an electrical outlet, it became clear I need to reassess what I let bother me.
Especially with Kate in the same room.
I don’t need her seeing the disheveled version of me. The version that probably whimpered into their pillow all night because they were having nightmares like a child. When I brushed my teeth, I barely recognized myself.
Adding that to the searing pain settling deep into my spine from the couch has now made me unfit to tackle any normal conversation.
“Another?” the waitress asks me.
I grumble a nod as she fills my coffee mug again. She just stands there, staring at me. I try to make it clear that I’m not interested in the polite morning chit-chat and migrate my gaze to the empty tables in the opposite corner of the room. The hotel restaurant is a fraction of the size of their fancy conference room. Dining tables are lined neatly in rows with weird seashell salt and pepper shakers in the center. The room is more outdated than the rest of the hotel, with brown leather seats and geometrical carpet to match, like they didn’t care to update this little corner of the place, letting it live its days out as an eyesore.
This room is comfortable.
And it’s empty, which makes it even better.
Mostly empty, anyway.
The eager waitress looks like she is going to crawl out of her skin if I don’t say something. So, I won’t.
I give her a nod of thanks for topping off my coffee. I don’t have the mental capacity for small talk, especially with a woman who has ogling eyes similar to my students. Don’t get me wrong, she’s attractive. I just can’t humor the idea of chatting it up with a woman that isn’t Kate, even if it is harmless weather conversation.
Especially not when I know Kate is on a coffee date with another guy.
At this very moment probably. I check my watch. Yes, this very moment.
The waitress takes my silence as a hint and finally leaves the table. I can breathe. Pulling my phone out to check today’s camp schedule, I ignore the slew of text check-ins sitting in my inbox from Benny and Ellie. I haven’t updated them on my Kate progress, and I sure as hell haven’t told them about her morning plans. But I know Ellie will combust if I don’t give her something.
As if right on cue, the woman texts me.
Ellie:SHE’S HAVING COFFEE WITH HIM?
