“Just start the shower. I’ll be back.” He presses his lips against mine, and by the time my lashes flutter back open, he’s gone.
With a whole lot less finesse, I get out of bed and go to the bathroom to start the shower, but as the room steams up and time goes on, I wonder what is taking him so long. I slip one of his T-shirts over my head and head downstairs.
It takes me a minute to find him, and when I finally do, I shake my head. Binx somehow knocked one of the planters that was in the window off the ledge in the living room. Then deciding he didn’t create enough damage, he added to it, spreading dirt and pieces of the plant from one side of the room to the other—across the gray, almost-white tile floor.
“Don’t come in here without shoes,” Maxim orders, sensing me before he even looks over his shoulder to where I’m standing at the edge of the living room.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asks, placing the largest pieces of a black ceramic vase into a cardboard box.
“For my cat’s desire to destroy everything in your house.” I look around for the terrorist and find him sitting on the arm of the sofa, watching Maxim clean up the mess he made, his tail swishing from side to side. “I’ll buy you a new vase and plant and replace the chair he clawed up… and your shoes he chewed.”
“Babe.” That one word is filled with annoyance and what sounds like frustration. Probably because we’ve had this same conversation about a dozen times already, and he’s continued to tell me it’s not necessary.
Not wanting to argue with him, I go in search of the flip-flops I brought with me, figuring I will find a way to pay him back for all the damage that has been done without him knowing. Most likely in the form of a seriously nice housewarming gift after he closes on his place in Nashville. After tracking down my flip-flops next to the back door in the kitchen, I slip them on, then grab the broom and dustpan from the pantry and carry both with me back to the living room. As soon as I start across the tile floor, his eyes drop to my feet, and I barely avoid rolling my eyes at the grunting noise he makes.
“You are very naughty,” I tell Binx when he prances over to where I’m sweeping and brushes against my legs in a silent demand to pick him up. “Do you think they have cat behavior classes like they do for dogs?” I ask, only half joking as I pick him up and hold him against my chest, listening to his purr as he rubs his head against my jaw.
“That’s doubtful. Then again, if someone is willing to fork out a couple hundred dollars for it, my guess is there is another person willing to pretend they know what they’re doing.”
“Maybe I’ll ask July if she can recommend someone.” I smile when he laughs, then kiss the top of Binx’s head and place him on the couch. When I turn around, I find Maxim has taken over sweeping, so I wander over to the window, the ledge of it filled from one side to the other with plants in a multitude of different style planters. “You must have a green thumb. I can’t even keep a cactus alive.”
“Until this morning, I forgot there were even plants in here, so I’m guessing my housekeeper is the one with the green thumb.”
“You didn’t buy any of these?” I touch the leaf of one that is a pretty pale-pink with green veins.
“No, when I bought this place, I had a get together, and every single person who showed up had a plant, wine, or both.” He sighs. “I still have about two dozen bottles of wine in the pantry that will never get drank.”
“You could always give them out at Christmas to your neighbors.”
“That’s a good idea, but I don’t plan on being here at Christmas, baby.”
“You don’t?” I ask, and he stops sweeping to give me his full attention.
“I just put in an offer on a house in Nashville. As soon as I get a closing date, I’m moving there and either putting this place on the market or renting it out.”
“Oh.” I fiddle with the bottom edge of his T-shirt as his gaze bores into mine. “I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know I was moving to Nashville?” His tone and the look in his eyes state clearly that I should not say that I didn’t know.
“I knew you were buying a house there, obviously. I just didn’t know you would be living there full time.”
“What the fuck?” he asks, and my head shakes back and forth.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He lets out a deep breath, then squats down with the dustpan and begins sweeping the pile of dirt and leaves into it.
“It obviously means something.” I wrap my arms around my stomach, and he stands, then walks to where the box is and dumps the contents of the dustpan into it. “You can’t be pissed at me that I didn’t know.”
“I’m not pissed that you didn’t know. I’m pissed that you didn’t ask,” he says, picking up the box and carrying it out of the room without a backward glance.
_______________
WITH MY STOMACH tied up in knots I watch out the window, as we get farther away from Vegas, clear blue skies, Joshua trees mingled with shrubs, and rolling hills as far as the eye can see. The scenery is beautiful in its own way, but I already miss the greenery of Tennessee.
As we crest the top of a hill, I spot a house in the valley below.
No—not a house. A desert oasis surrounded by tall stucco walls. The multilevel mansion is all sharp angles, and from where we are above, I can see a pool that looks like glass and a hot tub with loungers partially hidden out of the sun under awnings. Multiple trees cast shadows across the green lawn.
“Is that your parents’ house?” I drag my attention off the view below and glance over at Maxim. I knew his parents had money, but their house has to be the biggest I’ve ever seen, and that is saying something.
“It is,” he says easily, and my fingers twitch with the urge to touch him. When he left me in the living room this morning, I stood there for a long time, trying to figure out what to do. But for the life of me, I couldn’t think of one thing to say to make things better, because he was right.
I didn’t ask what his plans were, probably because I didn’t want to know on the off chance they didn’t include me. It was stupid and immature and a dozen other things. I should have asked. I should have been brave enough to put myself out there, but I wasn’t, and now… now, with the tension between us, I don’t know what to do. So I’m pretending—like he has been since he walked into the bathroom while I was getting ready—that everything is okay. Like he wasn’t pissed earlier when he obviously was.
“Wow.” I shake my head as we drive down a winding hill toward the metal gate where I notice a sandy-colored Jeep with tinted windows parked just off the side of the road. As we get closer, the door to the Jeep opens, and a very attractive older gentleman gets out dressed in a pair of shorts and a linen button-down shirt, with a smile on his face aimed in our direction. He walks across the road as our car comes to a stop, and Maxim rolls down his window.
“What’s up, man?” Maxim reaches out the window to give him one of those complicated man handshakes that he returns with ease.
“Work as usual,” he says, then continues. “Your mom told me this morning you were bringing your girl by for a visit.”