She dropped beside him on the bed as if her knees had given out.
“When I heard about the call to the school, I thought...” He took a deep breath. “I was worried Stan might have been waiting for you this afternoon. I thought I’d dropped you off right in his lap. And when your car was here and you weren’t, I thought the worst.”
She looked overwhelmed, as if only half listening. “How did you find me?”
Brit noticed her puffy eyes again and his gut clutched. “I went to the school. Your principal gave me Tanya’s number.” Brit remembered his last phone conversation with Cali’s friend. He pulled his phone out and hit redial and handed it to her. “Your friend’s worried. She made me promise I’d have you call her when I found you.”
He listened as she assured Tanya that she was okay. She kept it short, no explanation of where she’d been. When she dropped his phone back in his palm, he felt her hand shaking.
“When you weren’t here, I overreacted.” He fought the urge to brush his finger over her cheek.
Her baby blues looked away, and he hoped she’d tell him where she’d been. He believed she hadn’t been with Stan, didn’t he? Yeah, he did. Just like he’d believed her about the bracelet being in the garbage. And so far she hadn’t lied to him.
“Now what?” she asked.
You tell me where you were. “You like Chinese? There’s a restaurant next door. You hungry?”
The slight grumble of her stomach filled the quiet hotel room. He smiled. “I think that’s a yes.”
She placed a hand over her abdomen. “I guess so. I keep forgetting to eat lately.”
“Me, too.” He realized this must be a symptom of grief. And then not wanting to think about grief, he added, “And then someone threw my lunch away.”
She frowned. He smiled. “I’m joking.” He paused. “I need to talk to the hotel clerk. Assure him everything is okay with the cops being here. Give me five minutes and then we’ll do dinner.”
She nodded and he started out. “Lock the door,” he called and he waited until he heard the lock click. Just because Stan hadn’t been here yet, didn’t mean he hadn’t followed her.
He walked to the front office. The same clerk from earlier sat behind the desk. Now, Brit wished he’d been less abrupt. His people skills could use work. Or they could these last few weeks. Losing Keith had turned him into an asshole.
“Hi,” Brit said to the clerk. “Remember me?”
“Like I’d forget.” The man sneered.
“Sorry about that. We had a situation. And still do. I want Cali McKay’s name pulled off any and every record you keep here. Put the room under my name.” He tossed down a credit card. “If someone calls, there is no Cali McKay here. But you get in touch with me ASAP.” He put a twenty on the counter next to his card. “Understood?”
The clerk’s blond brows pinched together. “There’s not going to be any trouble, is there?”
“Not if I can help it.”
~
As they walked next door to the restaurant, the tangy smell of Asian food reminded Cali of how the wind always carried with scent of the Oriental restaurant by her apartment. What she wouldn’t give to just be able to go home. Maybe paint her toenails and veg.
There was a wait on a table, so Brit suggested they order take out and go back to the hotel. Thoughts of being in a hotel room and eating takeout food with him seemed too intimate. But she hadn’t argued.
As soon as they’d eaten, she was sending him on his way. When they got back to the room, she sat on the bed, thinking he would be more comfortable in the chair. Instead, he followed her lead, and the mattress swayed. Cali’s spine tightened. Hotel room. Bed. Man. Good-looking man. Yup, way too intimate.
How had she arrived here? Why had she agreed to this? Taking a deep breath, she pressed a hand to her quivering stomach.
He opened one of the white boxes, and looked up at her. “I’ll share my chow mein, if you’ll share your cashew chicken.”
“Sure.” She watched steam rise from the box and for some reason, she thought of her mom.
They split the dishes and ate mostly in silence.
“You going to eat that?” he asked.
“I’m done.” She watched him pop her half-eaten egg roll into his mouth. First they shared a bed, then food, now he was eating her leftovers. What was next? Was he planning on staying the night?
He looked up; their gazes met. She turned away. Another silence swam around the thick awkwardness in the room. She heard him swallow, felt his stare.
Time to tell him to leave.
“Look,” she said.
“My name’s Brit,” he interrupted her. “What’s yours?”
“You know my name.”
He shrugged. “I know. I’m thinking maybe we could try it over again. A fresh start.”
She looked at him, unsure if she wanted to restart or end it with a clipped goodbye. But one glance into the hope shadowing his eyes and her heart softened. Caught by his gaze, she realized it wasn’t just hope, but some other emotion, something familiar. Grief?