Page 27 of French Kiss

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome.”

The dead air that followed felt awkward. Something needed to happen. The tension in the room was palpable. But he had a girlfriend, even if he didn’t see it going anywhere. I didn’t really want to continue talking about my lack of risk-taking, and as if to illustrate the point, I couldn’t bring myself to inch closer to him, suggesting what it seemed like we both were thinking. Even without looking up, I could tell Maddox was staring at me.

“So, on that note, I’m going to take my steady self home,” I said, pushing up from the couch, finally, and stretching once I was standing. “I think I should leave before I get the urge to sit down again.” My heart was pounding, images insisting their way into my thoughts of Maddox grabbing me and pulling me toward him, his lips on mine before either of us could think. But he hadn’t moved from his chair.

I went over to the table where I’d left my purse and checked inside to make sure it had my keys and glasses. More than once, I’d grabbed my purse only to discover later that half its contents lay somewhere else. Glasses in the kitchen, cell phone on a table, keys on the floor. For someone who always followed a steady path, I was very good at leaving that path strewn with detritus.

All items accounted for, I went over to give Maddox a hug, but he beat me to it by getting up to walk me to the entryway and pulling me in before he opened the door.

“How come you and I never dated?” he asked, his voice soft and husky. I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at him.

Was this the moment when everything would change?

I tilted my gaze up at him, expecting to see the hunger in his eyes that I felt exploding all over the place in me. But he was looking at me like he’d asked an academic question about anatomy.

“Um, because we’re friends. And if we dated for a month like you do with everyone else, we wouldn’t be friends anymore,” I said.

“Is that the real reason?” His expression softened and he looked so damn gorgeous.

“Do you have a different one?” I moved a few inches closer, thinking he’d close the gap once he knew I wanted him.

“I just figured you and I were never single at the same time. But if we were, maybe…”

“Maybe…” I couldn’t stay there much longer, wrapped in his arms, my face inches from his, without completely melting.

“You know I’m the wrong guy for you, right?”

Yes, I know. I always know. But…

“Why d’you think that?” I watched the shape of his lips while he spoke, wanting to feel them on mine.

“You should be with someone quality. Like Josh.”

Because we’re both anal and organized? Because we’re Mom and Dad? What if I want you?

“Why do you think you’re not quality?” It made me sad to hear him dismiss himself like that.

“I just mean, I’m not the guy.” He leaned the extra couple inches forward and barely grazed my lips with his. Then he loosened his grasp and took a step back. “So, yeah.”

Yeah, what?

I was confused. After more than three years, and with the end of residency looming, there was no point in wondering about it anymore. But maybe that was the point. He didn’t really wonder. He just liked flirting and having the conversation. It had become our new normal.

“Yeah. In almost three years, if we were going to date, we’d have done it by now,” I said, feeling defeated and suddenly too tired to have this conversation in earnest. And I didn’t get the feeling Maddox was being earnest anyway.

“Exactly. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Sure. Of course.”

I gave him a kiss on the cheek and trotted down the hall to the stairway, waving goodbye and hightailing it out of there before I burst into tears, carrying the longing and stress of wondering about him for so long.

He was one-hundred percent correct. If we were meant to be together, it would have happened sometime over the past three years. I had to get over him.

Right?

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