Rooms - James L. Rubart [33]
“Micah?”
Sarah’s voice broke through the world he’d fallen into, and he pulled away from the door.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I found, well . . .” he trailed off, not knowing what or how much he wanted to say.
She graciously moved away from him, toward his picture windows. “You never knew him?”
“Who?” Micah was still returning to the present. He set the letters back on the shelf, then closed the door.
“This great-uncle of yours.”
“No. Even my dad doesn’t know much about him.” Micah paused. “Or won’t say.”
Sarah meandered over to the built-in shelves packed with hundreds of books on history, photography, art, fiction, and biographies, and tilted her head, probably to read the titles.
“You a book lover?” Micah asked.
She gave a slight nod. “If you gave me five thousand dollars to spend in any store, I’d head straight for Barnes & Noble.”
“Are you asking for my checkbook?”
Sarah glanced at him and laughed, then looked back at the books.
Micah moved into the kitchen, noticed a coffee stain on the counter, and licked his thumb. Sarah came over as he got the last of it off the granite.
“Nice clean-up method.”
“You don’t miss much, do you?” Micah looked up, his face warm.
“Sorry. I could be a little more tactful.” She sat on a maple stool next to the counter.
“Not a problem. Most women—”
“—are catty and smile at your face, then stab you in the back. It’s one reason why I’ve never had a lot of girlfriends. I had more friends in high school who were guys.”
“So you don’t believe in the WHMS Rule?” He moved over to the refrigerator and grabbed two Diet Cokes.
“You lost me.”
“The When Harry Met Sally Rule. That guys and girls can’t be friends. Never saw the movie?”
“Yes, I saw it. I never wanted to believe it, but I will confess most times it’s true.”
“You know this from personal experience?”
“All through high school and college, I’d ask the guy if we were just friends, he’d say ‘oh yes, friends only,’ and in the end he’d reluctantly confess he’d been secretly in love with me the whole time.”
“It’s the way guys are made,” Micah confessed. “They promise they want to be buds only, but they tend to be attracted to the girl from the beginning.”
“So where does that leave us?”
Micah fell back against the pantry doors as if shot and laughed. “I see what you mean about the tact thing.”
“You mean the direct thing?”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” He walked over to her, poured their Cokes, and sat on the bar stool next to her.
“So where does that leave us?” The laughter in her eyes disappeared.
“Simple. We’re not friends.”
“Really. Then please provide the definition of our relationship.”
Micah pretended to take out a calculator and punch imaginary numbers into it. After a few seconds he looked up from under his eyebrows. “This is our third meeting so we’re good acquaintances. I have a girlfriend back home. If a man has a girlfriend and the person of the opposite sex is informed of it within the first four meetings, he’s allowed to develop a strictly platonic relationship. Since I let you know this in only our third meeting, we’re ahead of schedule and off to an extremely good start.”
Did he have a girlfriend back home? No. Julie had made it pretty clear they were finished. He might as well admit it. But not out loud.
“Cheers then. To a fruitful acquaintanceship.” She winked and raised her glass.
“Is that a word?”
“As of now, yes.”
They smacked their glasses together just hard enough for a smattering of pop to spill over the sides.
Micah suggested they go out on the deck. Walking beside Sarah across the tan carpet, he easily fell into her rhythm and it stirred something inside he couldn’t put a name to. It wasn’t infatuation or a crush. He wouldn’t even call it romantic. Natural was the best word to describe it.
“How ’bout you? Have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
She looked at him without elaboration, so he asked the obvious follow-up question. “How long