Page 50 of David's Chase

“I’ve never found myself in that kind of situation,” I say.

A knowing smile tilts his lips as he brings his drink to his mouth.

“Never?”

“Nuh-huh.”

He empties his glass.

‘Liar,’the voice in my head says.

I ignore her.

His smile fades as we move to more serious talk.

“I needed some time for myself, and this appeared to be a great place to live at that moment.”

The conversation stalls for a second.

“Did it work?”

He shifts his focus to me, a questioning look on his face.

“You living here?” I ask.

A distant, pensive look slides over his face.

“It actually did,” he says, the emotional disconnect growing between us.

We’ve always kept our connection confined to the terms of our agreement.

But now, that agreement seems to unravel.

Even though we have the opportunity to tear that wall down, he pulls away from it at a dizzying pace.

I can’t hide my disappointment, and frankly, what do I have to lose if I probe him further?

I’m the first to break the silence.

“We’ll never talk about your past, it seems. Or will we?” I ask.

I expect him to evade my eyes and watch his coldness grow. Perhaps notice a tinge of anger.

Instead of all that, he holds my eyes with a warm glint, a smidgen of regret and wistfulness in his gaze, and what I’d call a pinch of fondness.

He sets his glass to the side and relaxes in his seat.

“Probably not,” he says.

I like his honesty.

It’s better than some phony story.

A lie would be insulting, although I have been quite a liar myself as of late.

“I don’t want to pry or anything. It’s just that…”

I stall.

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