Let Me In - Ali Parker Page 0,133

the fluffy white robe that had been hanging on the back of the door.

“If you say so,” she said.

“Room service will be here soon. I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

“Okay.”

The atmosphere shifted between us. It wasn’t that it was an awkward morning-after scenario. It was the upcoming talk. I knew there were some things that needed to be said. I wasn’t looking forward to the saying of those things.

When I walked out of the bedroom, she was sitting at the small table in the room with several plates of food. “It smells good,” I commented.

She sipped her coffee. “It is so good.”

I sat down and lifted the dome from my plate. The fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon all looked amazing. I dumped syrup over the pancakes and took the first bite.

“When is your flight?” I asked casually.

“Three. What about you? Did you buy a round trip?”

I couldn’t look at her. “No.”

“When are you going back?”

“I’m not.”

Time froze. “You’re not?”

“No.”

“What about your business? Your house? Your boat and car?”

I shrugged. “The house is being closed up and will be going on the market soon. I’m mooring the boat at a marina. It will stay there. I’ll call someone to get the car.”

“And your business? All the work you’ve been doing the last few weeks. What about that?”

“I don’t know. I can work from anywhere.” I finally forced myself to look at her. The pain and disappointment I saw there hurt me.

“Why?” she asked.

“I can’t go back there. It’s tainted. Everywhere I look in my house, I see him. I remember the exact spot he stood on the patio. I remember him sitting in one of the chairs by the pool. I remember him sleeping in that bedroom.”

“I understand that, but that is part of grief. Those reminders don’t have to be bad things.”

“It’s like living with a ghost. I can’t be there.”

“What will you do?”

It was a good question. A great question. It was too bad I didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Maybe you just need a week or two to process all of this,” she suggested.

“I’ve processed it,” I told her. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Do you plan to stay here? With your father?”

I shuddered at the thought. “No. I don’t know. There are memories here as well, but they’re not nearly as sharp as the ones from my house.”

She pushed her plate away. My news had stolen her appetite apparently. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Honestly, neither do I. But I can’t be there. It’s not my home anymore.”

“You could buy a new house. With your money, you could buy any house you wanted.”

“True, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’m not sure I want to be there anymore. I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

She was quiet for a while. “I get it. I understand you are going through something. Can I ask you to do one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Don’t make any rash decisions just yet. Don’t sell your house. I’m not saying you need to come back right away but give yourself some time.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“My life is in San Diego,” she said. “Not that it matters, but I guess you will know where to find me if you ever want to talk.”

“Evie, this doesn’t have to end between us,” I blurted out.

“I live there. My father is there. My job is there. That’s where I need to be. I understand you don’t want to be there. I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I’ll make this work,” I told her. “I don’t want this to be over. I want you to be a part of my life.”

She offered a small smile. “You know where to find me.”

“I do.”

I wasn’t sure how I would make it work. I had heard all the stories about long-distance relationships and the fact they rarely worked. I couldn’t imagine it working with the newness of our relationship. We didn’t even technically have a relationship. At least not one we had discussed or figured out. It all felt very fluid, like we were just going with the flow.

She checked the time. “I should probably get back to my hotel. I want to shower before I go to the airport.”

“I’ll take you,” I told her.

“To the airport?”

“Your hotel,” I answered.

“Thanks.”

She walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, a clear signal she didn’t want me in there.

I’d fucked up a good thing. I knew

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