I’d been disappointed when he hadn’t commented on my outfit, but this time I was prepared. I chalked it up to my being late. The dress was new and cost more than I could afford, but Christopher’s reaction justified its purchase. My heart sank, but I couldn’t expect Brandon to be different, not yet. I couldn’t expect to make sweeping changes in just one day.
“My throat hurts.”I sent.“Laryngitis.”At least he would read his messages because his phone was in his hand.
“Want to go home?” His eyes remained fixed on his screen as he spoke.
I’d just arrived, and he’d hardly looked up from his phone.
When I didn’t answer, he glanced upward, and I interpreted annoyance in his steady brown gaze.
I shook my head.
They seated us at a good table, decorated with a blue and white checked tablecloth, and tucked in a quiet corner, away from the kitchen. I ordered by pointing. I was an expert, despite wishing it wasn’t necessary. Throughout dinner, Brandon continued to check his messages every few minutes, scrolling back through existing ones. He was absent more than he was present. He spoke a few times, telling me the scores of the playoff games and about something he’d found funny from work, but he forgot the punchline. My lack of voice didn’t seem to throw him off. Worse. He didn’t seem to notice.
Twice he got calls. Both times he excused himself and spoke elsewhere, so I wouldn’t hear. Had he always been so secretive? When he returned to the table, he went back to scrolling through old messages. Without my efforts, there was no conversation. With sinking feelings, it was difficult not to take his behavior personally.
Brandon signaled for the bill as I put the last bite of pasta in my mouth.
“You don’t want dessert, do you?” He didn’t bother looking up from his phone. He wanted to leave. No proposal and no dessert.
I placed my fork beside my knife across the plate and blinked back tears. I didn’t have many more chances to save his life. A week. Two, tops. To get more time, I needed to keep him from disappearing. If I couldn’t talk, I didn’t know how to get his attention. This night was supposed to end up in bed, but my heart plummeted into the soles of my expensive heels. It wouldn’t happen. No ring, no cheesecake, and no sex. Tonight was worse than the disappointing date five years ago.
I frowned, remembering that after this date the first time, Brandon hadn’t slept over. He’d bolted before midnight, citing an early meeting. He might still.
The car ride was silent until Brandon stopped his car in front of my place and gave me an absent peck on the cheek.
“I’m not coming in. I wouldn’t want to get sick.” He didn’t make eye contact.
His dismissiveness stung. I pasted on a fake smile and held up one finger to get him to wait while I texted.
“Meghan’s engagement party. Friday after next. You coming?”
“Two Fridays? Wouldn’t miss it. Tell her I promise. Wild horses and all that.”
I walked up the stairs toward my dark front door, searching for my key. When I located it, I turned to wave, but the curb was empty. Brandon had gone. I hadn’t realized his level of distraction had been a sign of danger, but now I wondered. What made him so worried?
Had there been signs of our breakup before? What else had I missed? I’d been oblivious.
It was too early for bed so I opened a tub of gourmet ice cream, changed into comfy clothes, and settled in to watch the movie version of Pride and Prejudice, one of my favorites. Ember waited only for the blanket to settle before scrambling up to join me, kneading the fuzzy cover with her little claws.
While I snacked, I tried to remember the sequence of events that had followed this evening. Seeing Brandon brought back memories, things I hadn’t thought about for years. It had been too painful. We’d had fun together, hadn’t we? Not tonight. But usually? Tonight, his stand-offishness had put me off. Had he always been that way? My gut screamed, yes. How had it not bothered me? Now, I was different. I’d been so excited before dinner, with butterflies flitting about my stomach, but had felt very little when I’d seen him. I’d expected my heart to skip and to feel swoony, but I hadn’t. It had been flat and boring. No sparks. He’d been so… ordinary.
After what Eric had done, I suppose I was scarred in more than one way, more than the physical scars on my back. I gasped, pressed pause, and I ran to check. Peeling up my shirt, I peered over my shoulder into the bathroom mirror. My skin was smooth and unmarked. A sight I’d never thought I’d see again. The raised belt scars that criss-crossed my back were gone. I could wear a bikini without shame. My throat closed up with emotion. That sight alone was worth the cost of time travel.
. . .
Brandon was unavailable that weekend, canceling our plans on Saturday and working late, but we traded a few texts. I worked overtime at the museum. The exhibit on Human Origins was scheduled to open in a few months, and there were several major things and a million smaller ones to finish. The opening hadn’t been seamless, so I was determined to improve it this time around. Sunday night rolled around, and Brandon still hadn’t called, so I texted him, citing continued laryngitis. He suggested he could make dinner on Tuesday and I became more settled after the exchange.
On Tuesday, Brandon picked me up from work. I carried my overnight bag and Ember’s cat carrier. She’d roamed my office for the day, swatting pens, stalking spiders, and napping on my important documents. I couldn’t speak, but at dinner, Brandon made an effort. He’d dressed up and joked while he cooked. I tried not to over-analyze, and just enjoy being together. He was handsome and charming, even if a little stiff, his conversation forced. Still, I bloomed with his attention. It had been so long since anyone had focused on me or made me feel cared for. It was almost like old times.
We enjoyed a satisfying evening until just after nine, when his phone rang. My heart sank. I remembered what had happened next. He excused himself and went into his bedroom to talk. Palms sweaty and heart racing, I tiptoed down the hall and stood to the side of the door because I didn’t want him to see my shadow underneath. I’d done this before. Eavesdropping wasn’t honorable, but I had a reason beyond curiosity. This time, I was trying to save his life.
“We aren’t ready for human trials.” His voice barely concealed his frustration, like he’d explained this before.
My heart drifted lower, sliding to toe level. This was the conversation I remembered. I had so little time to change the future.
Brandon hadn’t talked about his recent project. But human trials sounded experimental, downright controversial for his line of work as a toxinologist. Injecting venom into people wasn’t their business. Or so I’d thought.
There was a long pause while he listened to the caller.
