CHAPTER SIX —TERMS
743 Words
“Sit.”
I closed the door behind me and stepped in, setting my bag beside the chair before taking the seat across from her.
The cup in front of me hadn’t been touched. Neither had hers. She adjusted the tray between us, turning it slightly before settling back.
“You took longer than I expected.”
“I came.”
Her gaze lifted. “Yes,” she said. “You did.”
“You saw my calls.”
“I did.”
“And you didn’t answer.”
“I was busy.”
“With?”
I held her gaze. “Does it matter?”
“It does when I’m the one calling.”
My fingers rested against the arm of the chair. I didn’t respond. She reached for her cup, turning it slightly before setting it back down.
“You’ve been out.”
“I have.”
“Without saying anything.”
“I didn’t think I needed to.”
Her head tilted. “You don’t get to decide that.”
I leaned back. “I’m not reporting my movements.”
“No,” she said. “You’re not.”
Her gaze stayed on me.“But you don’t get careless either.”
“I’m not careless.”
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I said I was busy.”
“And I said that doesn’t work for me.”
I reached for the cup, took a small sip, then set it back down.
“I came,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied. “Because I made sure you did.”
My fingers rested on the cup for a moment before I let it go.
She leaned back slightly, watching.“You’ve always been… particular,” she said.
I didn’t react.
“Careful with what you say. What you don’t say.”
I met her gaze. “And?”
“It makes things easier,” she said. “Most of the time.”
“Until it doesn’t.”
I said nothing.
She reached forward, sliding the second cup a little closer to me.
“You should drink while it’s still warm.”
“It’s not.”
Her lips curved faintly. “Then you waited too long.”
I didn’t respond.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“That excuse is getting repetitive.”
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “Then stop asking.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Be careful,” she said.
“I am.”
“No,” she replied, calm. “You’re not.”
I picked up the cup again, then set it back down without drinking.
“You called me here,” I said. “I’m here.”
“And yet,” she said, “you’re still holding back.”
I exhaled. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I’m not asking you to say anything.”
I held her gaze.
“I just expect you to understand what matters.”
“I do.”
“Do you?”
I didn’t answer. She leaned forward, resting her hand lightly against the table.
“You’re at a point where small decisions stop being small,” she said. “Where you go. Who you spend time with. How you carry yourself.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I’m sure you think that.”
“I don’t just think so.”
She watched me for a moment, then leaned back again, smoothing her sleeve.
“I won’t keep adjusting around you,” she said.
I didn’t respond.
“You’ll adjust.”
My fingers tightened slightly against the arm of the chair, then eased.
“That depends,” I said.
“On what?”
I held her gaze. “On whether there’s anything to adjust to.”
Her lips curved faintly. “There is.”
She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to.
I stood. “I have things to do.”
“I’m aware.”
I picked up my bag. She stood as well, moving toward the door without looking back.
I followed. Her steps were measured, unhurried. She opened the door before I reached her.
“Answer your phone,” she said.
I stepped past her.
“Or next time,” she added, “you won’t like how I get your attention.”
I paused, then kept walking. The door closed behind me.
- Writer
