Her eyes flew to the microwave, which had a big digital clock on the front of it. It read seven forty-seven, and shock flowed through her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t even realize it was getting dark outside.”
Trap cut off another bite of his burrito and stuck it in his mouth.
She finally committed to entering the house, and she set her bag up on the third step, which was shoulder level, and she would take it upstairs with her when she went to bed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but the words felt hollow. She felt like she was apologizing left and right these days, and the sentiment didn’t hold any meaning.
“It’s fine.” Trap got up and danced around her, being careful to leave distance between them, as if he didn’t want to touch her. “I can heat up your chicken. Go ahead and sit down.”
Lila Mae did that, still stinging at the way Trap wouldn’t even look at her. He stood with his back to her while her chicken heated up in the microwave, then he put it on top of her salad, and set everything on the table in front of her with the little plastic containers of condiments: one of guacamole, one of sour cream, and two ranch dressings.
He sat back down, his cowboy hat off, but his eyes focused on his food. Lila Mae had already apologized; she didn’t know how to say it in different words that would make him understand.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Don’t mention it,” Trap said.
Lila Mae swallowed down the enormity of this day, though she knew she’d have to carry it with her to bed.
He finished eating and got up. He washed his plate and put their restaurant trash in her garbage can. “I’ll take this with me.” He pulled out the bag and tied the top, then reached for his wallet, phone, and keys, which he’d balanced on the thick square arm of her couch.
Surprise bolted through her. “You’re leaving right now?”
He nodded, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Like I said, it’s almost eight, and I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I can go to the Ranch Owners Meeting.” Trap barely flicked his gaze toward her. “So…yeah. I’ve got to get going, because I won’t be home until eight-thirty, and I want to be in bed by nine.”
Lila Mae nodded, because Trap had an evening routine, and he rarely stayed past eight anyway.
“Okay.” She got to her feet and stepped in front of him before he could pick up her trash. “I’m sorry, Trap. It’s been a crazy day.”
“I get it,” he said. “You’re busy, and I’m busy.”
“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you or Jason,” she said.
He reached past her and plucked his cowboy hat from the hook mounted to the wall beside the door.
She wanted him to say,I know, sweetheart, orIt’s all right, honey, orI understand, babyin his sugary, Texan drawl. Instead, he settled his black cowboy hat on his head and pinned her with those dark eyes full of displeasure.
“I just need to know what you want, Lila Mae,” he said.
She sighed and turned away, returning to the table and her taco salad. “I don’t know what I want.”
“You used to,” he said. “Things were humming along fine here. We were checking off projects right and left, and now it feels like you’re trying to build a completely different facility.”
“That’s not true,” Lila Mae said. “I haven’t changed that much.”
Trap chuckled darkly. “I know we’re still new, sweetheart, but it feels like you want things between us to change too.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Youdismissedme today, Lila Mae,” he said. “You said, ‘You can go,’ as if I’m just your general contractor, and you have no other use for me.”
She blinked at him.
“And that’s fine. Maybe we moved into just assuming we’d see each other every day too fast. I can go back to setting up dates and taking you somewhere nice instead of just hanging out after work.”
Lila Mae’s heart raced, and she didn’t know how to tell him she was sorry about dismissing him, or coming home so late, and anything else that was bothering him. Why didn’t more words exist that meantI’m sorry?
He bent and picked up her trash, took two steps, and opened the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the Ranch Owners Meeting,” he said. “Eleven o’clock. It’s in the conference room at the IFA.”
