Rooms - James L. Rubart [111]
Best-case scenario, Sarah and he would be right back to where they were before he’d left for Seattle a few days ago.
Worst case, they would have lost a few weeks, maybe even a month, of their relationship. But he didn’t want to lose even an hour. During the past four weeks their relationship had burst from deep friendship into full-blown love. He’d told her everything that had gone on inside the house during that time. Told her about living parts of two lives. And she’d all but said she wanted to spend her life with him.
He shook his head and ran both hands through his hair. Why hadn’t he listened? She’d been so adamant about him not going. She had been right. Now he would fix it.
He glanced inside. No one left but Sarah.
Micah stepped through the front door. The bells announcing his arrival sounded like the warnings of a five-alarm fire, and his heart pounded like the bass drum at a rock concert.
“Hi,” Sarah said without turning from her cleaning. “Five minutes to closing, I hope you’re not wanting a triple-decker four-fudge float.”
“Sarah.”
She looked up. “Hey. How are you? This is a nice surprise.” She smiled and tilted her head to the side.
His mind froze. He didn’t know what he’d anticipated, but it wasn’t this. He’d expected to know with one look what her heart did or didn’t hold for him. But he didn’t. As he studied her face, he saw recognition, but what kind? Anger from the cell phone calls? Concern? Was everything back to normal and she simply waited for him to make the first move, to admit returning to Seattle was a mistake? She obviously knew him, but how well? There were no answers, and he had no idea where to go with the conversation.
“I’m good. Hey, uh, first I just wanted to apologize for the weird messages I left on your cell phone.” He hesitated. If everything was back to normal, then maybe the calls wouldn’t have even happened in Sarah’s world.
“You left me a weird message? More than one?”
Yes! The calls no longer existed.
“Yeah, well, I . . . Yeah, I did and—”
“When?”
“A day or two ago.”
“Really? I must not have gotten them. Strange. Want to give them to me now?” She smiled but it didn’t reassure him.
Oh no. He saw it in her eyes. Uncertainty. Then an obvious clue he should have picked up on the moment he’d called her name. She still stood behind the counter instead of rushing over to him. Not a good sign.
“Instead of giving you the weird message, how ’bout I ask you a weird question?” He shifted his weight and tried to smile.
Sarah put down her towel, walked around the counter, folded her arms, and put a mock skeptical look on her face. “Ready.”
Micah inhaled slowly, then sighed.
Sarah winked at him. “Wow, this is going to be good.”
“When was the last time we saw each other?”
“What?”
“When’s the last time we talked?”
“Wow! I’m that forgettable?” She raised her eyebrows. “Three days is all it takes, eh?”
“No, not at all, I just—”
“Just what?”
“I’ve—”
“You’re serious.”
“Yeah.” Micah shrugged.
“I must be a pretty boring dinner guest.”
“Dinner? Which one?”
Sarah backed up and leaned against the ice cream display case. “Are you okay? Since we’ve only had one, it’s that one.”
This could not be happening.
He slumped into an oak chair against the wall.
“You’re spooking me a little here, Micah. You cooked for me at your house. We talked until 11:00 p.m. I think we both had a good time. You have to remember some of that conversation.”
“I remember all of it. It’s just . . .” Micah felt the blood rush out of his face.
“All right then, I feel better now. I think.” Sarah laughed. Micah could tell it was forced.
Sarah turned and walked back around the counter. “I hope you don’t mind my cleaning up while we talk.”
He swallowed hard. “If you’re kidding about this to say, ‘I told you so,’ now would be a great time to stop.”
“What are you talking