I force myself to act natural. I pick up my phone from the counter and look at the screen, trying to find something to keep my hands busy instead of staying limp alongside my body.
"Come on." He grabs his keys. "I'll drive you to your truck. We'll get coffee on the way."
"Sure," I say. "Let me get my shoes."
After I give him the address to Dev’s house, where my truck is, we drive in silence. He holds the wheel with one hand, easy, watching the road.
The silence doesn't seem to bother him the way it bothers me. I watch the streets speed past us, ordinary and indifferent.
"We still have that Italian dinner," he says after a while, with a forced smile that has no humor behind it. "Tonight. If you still up for it."
I can't tell if he's asking or being polite. I decide it doesn't matter. I’ll let him off the hook.
“We did pizza yesterday, I guess that counts.” I say. And then aiming for lightness I add, "Pity about the private jet, though."
He glances over. "Jet's on lease. No problem there."
I look back at his profile in disbelief. Was he actually going to take me to Italy for dinner?
Dev's street appears before I can decide whether I want to know, and my truck is right there at the curb.
He parks behind it. Neither of us breaks the silence.
And then we both start at the same time.
"Thank you again—"
"I really liked—"
We stop. He smiles first. I follow.
He turns in his seat. His hand finds my face, cupping at my jaw, and he looks at me with those grey eyes that see things I haven't shown anyone else in a long time.
"I'm not in a position to make promises," he says. "I don't want to give you something that isn't real. My life—" He holds my gaze. "I really liked the time I spent with you. I want to see you again. But I'm not looking for a relationship. I can't be." A pause. "You understand?"
I go statue like. No outside reaction while inside I’m imploding.
"I understand," I say. "I liked our time too. If it happens again, great. If not, that's fine." I find a smile from somewhere and it fits well enough. "No expectations."
He looks at me for a moment. It almost seems like he is going to say something.
He kisses me. Soft. Brief.
"I'll text you a lawyer contact. Friend of mine, excellent. He'll represent you well."
Another arm's length of distance. He is tidying me away. His voice is level and reasonable as he says something about conflict of interest but I’m only half listening. I am using everything I have to keep my face exactly where it is, to keep my hands still, to keep my voice ready for whenever I need it next.
"Sure," I say. "That makes total sense. Thanks for everything." I'm already unclipping my seatbelt. "Have a good weekend."
I get out.
The air is cool as I walk to my truck. My hand finds the magnetic key box above the front tire and I get the key out without fumbling.
I get in. I close the door. One breath in. I close my eyes. One breath out.
I open my eyes. In the rearview mirror I see his car is still there, idling at the curb. I put a smile on, raise my hand in goodbye and pull out into the street.
I drive.
