Page 44 of Free to Run
The week? I sit back in shock. “You do realize I have to go home, right? I have a job. I can’t stay here.”
“Do you have to be in your office to do it? Could you work from here?” I’m not surprised to feel his hand brushing my leg when he reaches for mine. “Just think about it. If you could work from here this week, would you want to?”
Would I want to? Am I willing to open myself up to the potential pain again?
“I don’t know.” I hesitate. His face closes off. “I told you earlier, I need some time.”
“Don’t you think it would be prudent if we take time to work through issues together?”
“Maybe? I don’t know, Keene.” I press my lips together. “You have no idea what the last few weeks have been like for me.”
His other hand, not touching me, slaps the table. “Then tell me! For Christ’s sake, Alison, I’m not a fucking stranger.”
“I thought you said you wanted to start over?” I challenge.
“I do. That doesn’t mean we toss out everything we already know about each other. It means we use it to see if there’s something more between us. If there’s not…” He shrugs. “We part much more amicably than we did the first time.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that Keene’s already foreseeing our end before we even have a conversation to start. Somehow, it gives me the strength to pull back. “Like I said, I’ll see. I have to review my commitments.” And I need to decide if I want to go down this path again.
His eyes bore into mine before he gives a hard shrug and continues to eat. Silently.
All of our earlier camaraderie disappears as if it never occurred.
19
Alison
Bidding Georgio a good evening, Keene guides me out onto the quieting streets of Eighth Avenue. The theater crowd has slowly dissipated while we were finishing our meal due to the misting rain.
I open my mouth to ask Keene where he’d like to go, when he starts talking. “You made it fairly obvious during dinner that you’re not interested in pursuing anything further between us.” His face is closed off. “I wish I had understood earlier your intentions were truly to establish a familial dynamic between us.”
Is he out of his ever-loving mind? Who the hell kissed him back in bed this morning?
“I think it would be best if we limited our interactions for a while to those with other individuals around. I’m not entirely certain I can be completely cordial,” he continues.
The anger I’ve held back since the first time Keene walked out the door after our first night together claws up from the bottom of my soul. It’s crueler than knowing my father sold me for drugs. It’s more potent than the wine I just drank.
My chest heaves as he takes his first few steps away from me. I’m over his shit. His back-and-forth emotional yo-yo. He wants to walk away? Fine. Not without me having my say this time.
I walk quickly and reaching out, I shove him.
“What the hell?” he snarls at me.
“Fuck you, Keene. Seriously. Fuck. You. This is all aboutyourissues. Your issues, not mine. You’re the one who walked first. Physically, emotionally, every which way there could be. What was it?” I shout into his shocked face. He’s still leaving, but I refuse to live one more second with this festering in my soul. I gesture angrily between the two of us. “You know, I was hopeful about tonight. Excited. I was ready for the challenge.” I step back, my fury receding. Instead, I’m left with disgust at both of us. Shaking my head, I say, “Keep running, Keene. You’re even better at it than me,” before I turn on my heel to head down the street toward Jared’s office, where my car is still waiting for me. I stop a few steps away, turning back to sneer, “It’s too bad you’re such a coward, too afraid to reach for something you might actually want in this life before it walks away. You’re too busy looking for all the ways to make it wrong in your perfect world, so you dispose of it.”
I turn and continue walking down the street when I hear Keene call out, “You’re wrong, Alison.”
I don’t even stop to acknowledge him.
It takes me about ten minutes to reach the offices of Watson, Rubenstein, and Dalton. I briefly greet the doorman as I walk in, and he hands me the packages I had delivered from Saks earlier that day. Making my way to the elevator, I pull out my keys. I see my phone light up with what I’m sure is a text from Keene. The man just hates not having the last word. My phone has buzzed repeatedly in the last few minutes, but frankly, my anger has burned out, leaving only the ash behind.
Tossing my purchases into my car, I slide into the driver’s seat, resting my head on the steering wheel, allowing myself one moment to grieve what could have been before I pull all of my emotions together and start my car.
I refuse to let one asshole be the reason I wrap my car around a tree on the Hutch.
I’m backing up my car when I hear something slam into the trunk. Slamming on the brakes and whipping my head around at the sound, my heart pounding, I meet the volcanic look on Keene’s face. Putting my car in park, I jump out.
“Are you out of your damned mind? What if my reflexes had been off? I could have run you over with the car!” I shout at him.
