Page 31 of Let It Be Me

The way she says it—more than dinner—instantly makes my mind go to sex. Maybe that’s why she said it just like that. And if she really meant sex, I might even consider it in a weak moment—this definitely being a weak moment. But that’s not what she meant. I run a hand through my hair. “We were pretty good together, Alli, but there’s a reason we didn’t go the distance. And right now I don’t have anything to give to a relationship.” That’s not all of it. Alli wants to marry young, have babies and nannies and tutors, a big house, and a dual-income household. She knows what she wants and she wants it soon. Meanwhile, I know nothing about my future except that I can’t get serious until I can give all of myself to a girl. And that’s a distant goal. “I can’t give you something I don’t have.”

She looks down at her manicured hands. “I just miss how things used to be.”

“Yeah.” I sigh. I don’t have it in me to watch her cry tonight. “I know.”

But it’s a fatal mistake to give her even that much. She raises her eyes to mine, and I see a little flicker of hope. Alli’s likea honey badger: She sounds sweet and adorable, but when she wants something, she clamps down and doesn’t let go.

My phone beeps and I pull it out, grateful for the interruption. Maybe someone’s dead and I can run out of here home free.

Alli gives an expectant look at my phone.

“That’s Cash. He’ll be here soon.” I stand.

“So we can talk another time?” she asks, standing up.

“I said what I need to say, Al.”

“Well, I didn’t.” A car door slams out front, and even though I know it can’t be Cash yet, she seems to think otherwise. She blinks and turns for the door. Near the threshold, she pauses and turns back to me. “I have an exhibition coming up. Some of my photos from France. Maybe you’ll come? I could use the support.”

“I don’t know. Send me the details and I’ll see what I can do.”

I drop my head in my hands when the door closes behind her. I gotta get free.

“It’s open!”I yell from the living room floor when someone pounds on my front door.

Cash walks in—scratch that, hobbles in, his backward hat askew and his arms loaded with pizza boxes and groceries.

“Down here,” I say from my spot on the floor when I see him looking around in confusion.

“Nice ass.” He raises an eyebrow as I roll from my side to my back. “What are you supposed to be doing?”

“Physical therapy. This is what I do. This and eat.” I eye the greasy pizza box and catch sight of a carton of ice cream in a grocery bag as Cash places his burden on the table. “Thanks for doing your part at helping me stay in shape.”

“Lemme see.” He pushes his foot against my abs, testing their strength. “Nah, you’re still good. Besides, we can’t all have eight-packs, can we?” He makes a face like he’s hot shit and lifts his T-shirt. It’s true, his abs are even better than mine. And mine are pretty great.

“Yeah, break an ankle and see just how ripped your abs stay.”

“I didn’t break an ankle.”

“Yet.”

“So what are we doing tonight? You really can’t go out?”

I start another set of stretches. “No.”

“When’s your doc gonna clear you to go out?”

I can’t help laughing. “I’m not under house arrest, moron. My doctor doesn’t forbid going to bars; he just needs me to take it easy.”

“Great, so you can take it easy on a barstool. I’ve got this hot volleyball chick texting me all day.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t have to come over, man. Go out, it’s cool. I’m happy here.”

“This is you happy?” He takes in the sight of me sprawled on the floor. “Fine, if you don’t want to go out, we’ll stay here.” He pops open a pizza box and sits down, but I can tell by the way he’s perched on the edge of his chair that he’s restless.

“You can go, man,” I say. “You’ve brought me dinner, so your duty is done.”

He shakes his head. “I got a feeling you’re gonna need help getting off the floor.” His eyes land on something on the side table, and he reaches for it. “Whose is this?” He holds up a black headband.

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