Page 49 of David's Chase

“What about the hotel rooms?”

“They’re fine. Comfortable. Impersonal. Lavish to a fault. But that can’t be a permanent arrangement.”

“Who says I’m looking for one?”

I smile, feeling the prick of apprehension.

“Touché.”

Noticing the abrupt change in my expression, he takes my hand.

“I don’t want you to get too serious about this conversation.”

I retrieve my hand.

“Who says I’m getting serious about this conversation? I wasn’t talking about me.”

He studies me intently.

“I wasn’t,” I say. “We were talking about living arrangements in general. I mean, look at me, for instance. My place is temporary as well. I even thought the other day about how nice it would feel if it weren’t a temporary arrangement. If it was my place and it didn’t have that dilapidated feel about it like no one was ever home.”

I smile, and he laughs like it’s a good joke.

“There is nothing dilapidated about it.”

“I didn’t say it was. But it could have some soul in it. But you can’t put that in a house without putting people in there too.”

The fascination in his stare makes me feel a little spoiled.

“Am I right?”

“Yes. You’re right,” he agrees.

I take a couple of seconds to fiddle with my drink.

“So how come…?”

My voice trails off before I change my mind, give up on my idea, and gesture dismissively.

“Never mind,” I say.

His stare lingers on me.

“I bought the house because it was a good deal, and it looked perfect as a getaway place,” he says in response to my silence.

“Oh…”

I sip more wine.

“What did you get away from?”

He pushes a smile to his lips.

“What do you usually get away from?”

‘Your mother when you lie to her,’the voice in my head promptly offers.

I wave her off.

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