And he wasn’t going to make her feel bad about this.
He was going to make it easy.
“Bianca.” He took a deep breath. “I know what you’re trying to tell me.”
She turned towards him. Was she smiling?
“You do?”
Chay nodded. “This has been—it’s been an interesting week.”
Where had that smile gone?
“Interesting,” she repeated.
“Yeah. But, you know, but like all good things, it’s come to an end.”
“To an end,” she said, and he realized he’d only imagined that smile.
He nodded again. He felt like one of those fucking dolls people put on their dashboards, head bobbing up and down in sheer idiocy.
“You have a job to go back to. And I’m going to be deployed next week.”
“You are?”
Maybe. Assuming he could convince the STUD docs he was already up to it.
“Yes,” he said with utmost assurance. “I’ll be gone at least a month. So we’re both moving on.”
Were those tears in her eyes? No. It had to be a reflection from the candles on the table.
“Yes,” she said. “Moving on.”
He took hold of her shoulders. His heart was lodged someplace in his throat. For a second, he was afraid to speak, but that was dumb.
Men didn’t cry.
Men never cried.
He’d learned that early, when his old man had beaten him almost senseless because he’d cried over the death of a puppy.
“So,” he said, “so here’s what I suggest. Let’s go out to dinner. Go dancing.” He swallowed hard. “Or—or, you know, we could just stay here and—and be together.”
What he meant was make love. Have sex. Go to bed one final time.
She could almost feel her heart break at the thought, and she pulled free of his hands.
“I can’t.” Her voice shook. “I just can’t. I—I called the airport. There’s a flight out tonight. I really want to get home fast. I have so much to do before Monday…”
“Bianca.” His voice was raw. “Honey…”
She swung away and fled into the house. Into the bathroom. She had a cellphone in her pocket—she’d picked up a disposable one while Chay was in the hospital—and with trembling fingers, she turned it on, found Annie’s number and punched it.
Annie answered on the first ring. “Bianca?”
“Annie,” she whispered. “Can you come and get me? Or are you with Declan? If you are—”
“I’m not with Declan. I’m not with anybody. Bianca, what’s the matter?”