Page 15 of Never Let Me Go

“Is that something you want? The bigger space?”

Her grin was wry. “Not really. And I’m as surprised as you are by that. But I suppose self-discovery is a bumpy road.”

He poked at a burnt piece of cheese. “AmIone of those bumps in the road?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Marisa’s expression was solemn. “More like a ditch,” she said. “A serious fender bender.”

“You are hell on my ego, woman.”

She patted his hand, her fingers lingering to trace his knuckles. “Your ego is just fine. I have it on good authority that you’re one of this town’s most eligible bachelors. Especially since Luscious Lucas is off the market.”

“You know about that nickname?”

“Every unmarried woman in Blossom Branch knows that nickname. Too bad you don’t have one.”

“I’m just Jeff,” he said. “What you see is what you get.”

“Maybe.”

While he finished his third slice, Marisa cut generous servings of something he didn’t recognize. But it smelled amazing. She set a small plate in front of him. “I remember you said you were allergic to chocolate, but that you loved anything with lemon. So I dug out this recipe of my grandmother’s. Lemon bars. Not a fancy name.”

He took a bite and groaned. “These are incredible.” The delicate crust was homemade, flaky perfection. The filling was addictive—much like the woman who baked it. He was touched that she remembered a throwaway comment from a year and a half ago.

She refilled his glass of cola and put the leftover pizza in aluminum foil. “Please make yourself at home,” she said. The words were stiff. “Your room is down the hall, second door on the right. You have your own bathroom, though I warn you, it’s very small.”

“I’ll manage,” he said. “Sit down, Marisa. Let’s talk.”

“I can’t. Prep work for tomorrow. You know.” Her gaze landed everywhere but on him.

“Anything I can help with? I’m good with a potato peeler.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Alarm flared in her eyes. “Oh, no. Feel free to watch TV or check your email. I have everything under control.”

“I’m glad somebody does,” he muttered. He got to his feet reluctantly. She could barely wait for him to leave the room. Her unease was palpable. Perhaps it was best to give her what she wanted.

For the next half hour, he brought his suitcase inside, unpacked and explored her small house. His assigned room was spotlessly clean and tidy. Even the bedspread was pulled taut, nary a wrinkle in sight.

All the while, he could hear Marisa in the kitchen. Pots and pans banged. He noticed when the dishwasher clicked on. And then she was singing.Singing.

Here he was, fixated on what happened next between them, and Marisa was singing as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Glumly, he found himself on the sofa flipping channels on the television. Her cable package was limited. Finally, he landed on a ball game he wanted to watch.

One hour passed. Then two.

Slowly, it began to dawn on him that Marisa wasn’t going to come out of the kitchen until he had gone to bed.

At nine, he sighed and shut off the TV. She had asked for a week. He’d been arrogant enough to believe he could change her mind. But he was clearly wrong. It looked like he’d better concentrate on repairing his home instead of fixating on a woman who might or might not want the same things he did.

The day after her pizza dinner with Jeff, Marisa searched for a sign from the universe. Shouldn’t there be one? When a woman was on the verge of a major life decision?

Having Jeff in her house overnight was a bigger strain, a bigger test than she had imagined. Once, when she got up to use the bathroom, she found herself standing in front of his door, listening. She thought she could hear a gentle snore, but she wasn’t sure.

The poor man had to be exhausted. Stress was draining. She had a hunch that he’d already started getting rid of his ruined belongings. Physical labor combined with the mental aftermath of a disaster would tax even the strongest of men.

Fortunately, her plate was full today. One of the clerks at the courthouse was going on maternity leave. Marisa was catering the baby shower.

It was a fun, completely feminine activity. Marisa found herself envious of the honoree, who was clearly fertile and happy. What was it like to be so sure of the future?

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