Page 21 of David's Chase

He snakes his arm around my waist, holding me with ease while sliding his fingers up my neck.

“I’ll be gone for a couple of weeks. Maybe more,” he says quietly, and a host of emotions flicker through his eyes.

He seems uncertain about what will happen next, and I’m right there with him, feeling unsure of things, too, only for much different reasons.

“And?”

A soft smile curves his lips.

“I want you to come visit me,” he says, and my mouth falls open.

“What…? What are you saying?”

He looks at me thoughtfully.

Torn.

And I realize we’re navigating more than uncertain times.

It’s too early to say the things that he wants to say.

Visiting him in New York is a big change and a major commitment. He may be paying me, and that may be fun, but I can’t drop everything and go.

First off, what kind of fucked up secret is this supposed to be?

There is no way I can explain a trip to New York.

No way.

“I can’t do that, and you know it.”

He slowly rubs the side of my face with this thumb when I lift my hand and cuff his wrist.

“I can’t leave. I go to school and have a job. And I have no reason to fly to New York. I can’t justify the trip.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone. You fly in on Saturday morning or Friday night, whichever works for you, and I’ll wait for you in New York. We’re going somewhere. I’ll find a place. We won’t meet up where I stay.”

My eyes drill deep into his.

“You have thought about everything already.”

He smiles.

“Yes, I have. But it’s not what you think. It’s more like in a spur–of–the moment idea.”

“What about my job? We’re busy on the weekends, and then taking some time off might get to my mother’s ears.”

“Find a way…” he says softly. “You’ll come back on Sunday.”

I wish I could think of something. A way to work it out. Maybe Maggie would agree to me taking some time of or switching shifts with Claire.

Still, it’s too risky.

My mother usually invites me over to her house for lunch or dinner.

“All right?” he says, and I forget about arguing against his idea.

“I’ll think about it and let you know,” I say, not trying to prolong the uncertainty––I truthfully just need to think about it.

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