With Black Friday only days away, I put in a lot of hours at the shop. Our vendors were flooding us with holiday merchandise.
My parents manned the showroom, while I remained in the back—sorting, pricing, and thinking. I’d discovered a lot about myself in my first semester at Newman. I loved my economics and English classes. I’d joined an entrepreneurial club, and that was fun. But fashion wasn’t something I would focus on. I might pursue an interest in outdoor living spaces. It was too early to decide, but maybe.
Scott called me around six on Tuesday. “Can I come over tonight?”
“Sure. When?” Could he hear the happy thrill in my voice?
“Seven-thirty?”
“Okay.” I heard the squealing of tires over the phone. “Where are you?”
“On I-40, at a rest area. Just a sec.” A car door slammed and it became much quieter. “Do you want me to bring takeout?”
“I’m making a pot of chili, if you like that.”
“Yeah. See you.”
He clicked off before I could say anything else. The happy thrill faded.
When he entered my apartment, he gave me a perfunctory hug and then headed for the bathroom. After he emerged again, his face was all creased and grumpy.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
Wow. I turned my back, not wanting him to see how much his attitude was upsetting me. Opening the oven door, I checked the progress of the cornbread. Nearly done. I straightened and stirred the chili unnecessarily.
Behind me, footsteps thudded across the great room over and over again, hitting the squeaky board every eighth step.
I listened for a minute. It was making me crazy. “Could you stop?”
The pacing ended instantly. “I’ll turn on the TV.” Even his voice was dark.
By the time I set the bowls of chili on the table, he had Nat Geo on. For the next hour, we hardly spoke. Scott was watching the show like he was taking an exam at the end.
I should splat my concerns right out there. Ask him what was going on. Hound him until he told me. But this mood of his? It was too dense to break through. It worried me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to crack it open.
Once the show ended, he lurched to his feet and stood there, fists jammed in his pockets, frowning down at me.
“Are you—?” He stopped. Clamped his lips together in a tight line.
I took a deep breath and rose. It would be better to have this out. “You sat over there fuming for the past hour. Could you drop the passive-aggressive stuff and just say what you need to say?”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t understand what’s going on here. Why are you being such a jerk?”
“Me?” He flinched. “Is that what you think?” His head dropped back, so that he could stare at the cracks in the ceiling. “I am so tired of doing this alone.”
“Doing what alone?”
“Us.” His chin lowered until I could see his clouded eyes. “I’m doing all the work here.”
“What does that mean?”
He exhaled a slow breath. “I made the round-trip to Newman six weeks ago, and you’ve barely texted or answered my emails since. I didn’t even know you were in town on Saturday until Lacey called about movie night.” He flung his hands wide. “I had to invite myself over today.”
“I didn’t know when you were getting back.”
