True believer - Nicholas Sparks [110]
“Hey,” he said.
Lexie looked up. “Oh, hey,” she said, standing. She smoothed her blouse. “I guess you caught me making the place look presentable.”
“You do have a big weekend on tap.”
“Yeah, I suppose I should have taken care of this earlier,” she said, motioning around the room, “but I guess I’ve picked up a nasty case of procrastination.”
She smiled, beautiful even in her slight dishevelment.
“It happens to the best of us,” he said.
“Yeah, well, not usually to me.” Instead of moving toward him, she reached for another pile, then ducked her head beneath the desk again.
“How’s Doris doing?” he inquired.
“Fine,” she said, speaking from below the desk. “Like Rachel said, she’s just a little under the weather, but she’ll be up and about tomorrow.” Lexie reappeared, reaching for another stack of papers. “If you get the chance, you might swing by before you head out. I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”
For a moment, he simply watched her, but when he realized the implication of what she was saying, he took a step toward her. As he did, Lexie moved around the desk, acting as if she hadn’t noticed, but making sure to keep the desk between them.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
She shuffled a few more items on her desk. “I’m just busy,” she answered.
“I meant what’s going on with us,” he said.
“Nothing,” she said. Her voice was neutral, as if discussing the weather.
“You won’t even look at me,” he said.
With that, she finally looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time. He could sense her simmering hostility, though he wasn’t sure whether she was mad at him or mad at herself. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’ve already explained that I’ve got things to do. Believe it or not, I am in sort of a rush here.”
Jeremy stared without moving, suddenly sensing that she was looking for any excuse to start an argument.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” Lexie slipped another stack under the desk. “How was Alvin?” she asked, her voice rising from below.
Jeremy scratched the back of his head. “He’s not mad anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Good,” she said. “Did you two get your work done?”
“For the most part,” he said.
She popped up again, trying to appear rushed. “I pulled the diaries out for you again. They’re on the desk in the rare-book room.”
Jeremy gave a weak smile. “Thanks,” he said.
“And if you can think of anything else that you might need before you leave,” she added, “I’ll be here for at least another hour or so. The tour starts at seven, though, so you should plan on being out of here no later than six-thirty, since that’s when we turn off the overhead lights.”
“I thought the rare-book room closed at five.”
“Since you’re leaving tomorrow, I figured I could relax the rules just this once.”
“And because we’re friends, right?”
“Sure,” she said. She smiled automatically. “Because we’re friends.”
Jeremy left the office and made his way to the rare-book room, replaying the conversation in his head and trying to make sense of it. Their meeting hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. Despite the flippancy of her final comment, he hoped that she would follow him, but somehow knew she wouldn’t. The afternoon apart hadn’t helped to mend things between them; if anything, they’d gotten worse. If she seemed distant before, she now seemed to view him as radioactive.
As much as her behavior bothered him, on some level he knew it made sense. Maybe she shouldn’t have been quite so . . . cold about it, but everything came back to the fact that he lived in New York and she lived here. Yesterday at the beach, it had been easy to fool himself with the belief that things would magically work out between them. And he had believed it. That was the thing. When people