Page 16 of Never Let Me Go

As the event wound down, the father-to-be showed up to carry gifts to the car. When he kissed his wife and they smiled at each other, Marisa felt as if she had witnessed something incredibly private and personal.

Would there ever be a man who looked at her like that? Jeff Grainger was in lust with her, but that would burn itself out eventually. Wouldn’t it?

She had never once let herself consider the possibility that she might have fallen in love with him. How could a woman love a man on such short acquaintance?

Besides, after that first night they were together, he had eased her out of his life quickly and finally. The message was clear. He didn’t want the responsibility of her innocence, and he didn’t want her.

Yet here he was. Back in her life. And he seemed happy about it.

The week progressed slowly.

Oddly, after the first night they shared pizza, he started coming home very late. She had given him his own key. The second night, she heard the front door open and shut at midnight. The third night, eleven thirty.

It had now been four nights since the tornado. Which meant she had three more days to make up her mind.

What did she want from Jeff? A hookup? Something longer? Friends with benefits?

Or did she want a full-blown adult relationship with the possibility of marriage and babies and a future?

The trouble was—herwants were only a piece of the puzzle. She had to know what Jeff was thinking. Whathewanted. Beyond sex. She knew where he stood on that point.

If she were a different woman, she might have met him at the front door wearing nothing but a smile to see where things ended up. But she didn’t have that kind of sexual confidence. Not yet. Getting there, but not yet.

The fifth night came and went. Jeff never showed up. When she peeked into his room the next morning, the bed hadn’t been slept in. No Jeff.

Was he avoiding her? Had he changed his mind?

Her heart shriveled in her chest. She had been so sure the flame was still alive, even after all this time. In Jeff’s storm shelter, it had seemed that way. They’d been hungry for each other.

Or was the heat they generated simply heightened emotions from their precarious situation? Everyone knew that adrenaline produced from facing danger could make people do strange things.

On night six, she gave up hiding in her room. If her houseguest wasn’t coming back until late, she might as well enjoy her favorite Netflix shows and pretend Jeff Grainger was no more to her than a passing acquaintance.

After taking a shower and feeling sorry for herself, she grabbed a bag of potato chips and curled up on the sofa wearing a ratty chenille robe that was blue with pink flowers. The familiar clothing was comforting in the same way it was when she had the flu or a cold or cramps. The robe was an old friend.

At nine thirty, she decided she’d had enough. Her heart ached. Clearly, Jeff wasn’t hung up on her. He was busy with his life.

In a painful burst of self-honesty, she admitted to herself she had offered him a room because she was hoping they might end up in bed together.

Picking at a loose thread on her robe, she sighed. Maybe she should try to be honest with herself about what she wanted.

She had just stood up to go to her room when the door swung open. Jeff sauntered in on a burst of damp wind and raindrops. His hair was wet. His eyes smiled, but his face revealed exhaustion.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she said, feeling the lump in her throat and the knot of uncertainty in her chest. “Are you okay?”

He closed the door and shrugged out of his rain jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door. “Yeah. I’m fine. They’ve been predicting this rain for seventy-two hours. Me and a couple of my guys finally got the front of my place covered and secured.”

“New windows?”

“No, that will take some time. Those glass panes are huge specialty items. I have to get them delivered from Atlanta. We used heavy tarps and industrial grade tape to hold them in place.”

“And the roof?”

“It’s a work in progress. The company I’ve hired got everything covered in those blue plastic sheets you see after hurricanes. Hopefully, that will hold until the rain stops.”

He sat down in an armchair and raked his hands through his hair. “Sorry I’ve been MIA. It’s been a blur.”

Marisa stood behind the sofa, gripping the back so tightly her knuckles turned white. She also deeply regretted her choice of wardrobe. “I was just heading to bed,” she said, the words chirpy and overbright. “Help yourself to any of the leftovers in the fridge.”

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