“A number of reasons,” he says, a smile ghosting his lips.
“I thought you went down on the elevator,” I whisper, still not sure I’m really seeing him here.
His face lights up as a full-blown smirk drags across it. “I did. Then I came back up.”
My cheeks ache from the smile I’m giving him and I tell myself to stop it before I give him a false idea, but I can’t erase it. There’s no way to turn off the light he ignites in me.
He holds a tube up in the air. “I brought a signed poster for Rocky. Think I could take it to him?”
Some of my hope wavers. “Rocky was released two days ago. His cancer is undetectable.”
The joy on Lincoln’s face hits my heart. This is part of what I love about him. His genuineness. His sweetness. His thoughtfulness.
“I can take it and mail it to him though,” I offer.
“Please.”
I take the tube and our fingers touch. I jerk mine away.
“I have a favor to ask,” he says tentatively.
“The last time you asked a favor, it was a trick.” I sit across from him, grateful for the support.
“It might be a trick this time too,” he laughs. “Can you blame me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m leaving in the morning for Savannah for Thanksgiving.”
“So?”
“Go with me.”
“What?” I squeak. “Landry, are you nuts?”
“Nuts about you.”
I collapse back in my chair with a huff, hoping I sound more irritated than I am. I have to power through, not succumb. Protect myself. “I can’t go with you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Does it matter?”
I expect an argument, at least a little fight, but get none. He just shrugs his broad, thick shoulders. “Fine.”
My brows pull together, but I keep my features otherwise smooth. He’s watching me too carefully. He’s looking for an opening and I’m not about to give him one.
“Should I bring dinner to your house or should we cook it together at mine?”
“Excuse me?”
“Look,” he says, sliding his hands down the legs of his shorts, “if you don’t want to go to Savannah, I get it. My family can be a little overbearing. So we’ll stay here. We’ll—”
“I’m not having Thanksgiving with you.”
“You have plans I’m unaware of?”
“Maybe.”