Promise Me (The Me Novellas) (9 page)

“
I thought you had to work,” I blurted out instead.

“
I do.” He glanced at his watch. “But Juan needed to switch shifts. I’m heading in now.”

My gaze flew to the clock mounted on the wall. Dex and I had been there for an hour. Talking. And I hadn’t thought about Grant or the missing application or anything at all, really, except for what he’d been saying.

“OK,” I said.

“
I’m seeing you tonight, right?” he asked. “Or will you still be doing your interview?” He tripped over the word a little bit, sarcasm flavoring his voice.

I frowned. “I’ll be done,” I told him.

“Alright.” He hesitated for a minute and I wondered if he wanted to kiss me. Touch me. Somehow mark me physically, a gesture to emphasize to Dex just who he was. But he didn’t. He nodded and headed to the counter and ordered his drink.

“
Do you need to talk to him?” Dex asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I shook my head. “No.”

I’d gotten over any misplaced guilt I’d felt about being caught talking to Dex. It was exactly how he’d described it to Grant. We were chatting about our experiences in Mexico. Nothing more, nothing less. If anyone should have been uncomfortable, it should have been Grant. Wondering when I’d find out about the job application he’d decided not to turn in and wondering when I’d finally ask him about it.

“
Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” I thought I heard a pang of regret in his voice. But as quickly as I thought it, I dismissed it. What would a hot surfer guy with his own organization find attractive about someone like me?

“
Don’t worry about it.”

“
Alright,” he said. “I won’t.”

I toyed with the straw in my drink. “Tell me more. About your company.”

He grinned. “I’m the one who’s done all the talking.”

He had. But I wanted to listen to him.

“I want to hear about you,” he said, pointing his finger at me. “I want to hear your story.”

And there it was. My chance. My opportunity. Not to answer questions and try to explain to people who didn’t get it, but to tell someone who’d been where I was. Someone who’d come to that crossroads, wondering what to do, and had not only made a decision but carved out an entirely new path.

I turned to look at the counter. Grant was waiting for his drink, checking his phone. He must have felt my eyes on him because he glanced up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features when he realized I was staring at him. I looked away. Not once had he asked, truly asked, about why I’d made the decision to go. Not once had he tried to stop me. And being back, he hadn’t really asked questions, tried to pry out answers. But this stranger sitting next to me? He wanted to know everything.

“
I saw a poster,” I said, twisting around to face Dex.

He waited.

I told him. About my degree, the degree I was completely ambivalent about. About not being sure what I wanted to do, where I was headed. And how I’d seen the poster and just…reacted.

“
Makes sense,” he said, nodding.

I was surprised. “It does?” I wasn’t even sure that it made sense to me and I was the one who’d done it.

“
Sure.” He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable in the wooden chair. My back had started to ache much earlier but I’d decided to suffer through it. I wasn’t done talking to him.

“
How?”

“
Well, clearly you were bored with what you were doing.” He paused. “Not bored,” he amended. “Ambivalent is probably a better word. You didn’t care. And then you see this poster—and I’ve seen PHP’s work, I know their stuff is designed to pull at your heartstrings a little—and you can’t help but have a response. And there you were, trying to figure out just what the hell you’re doing and there’s this poster, this opportunity, staring you in the face. You did what a lot of people want to do but don’t have the guts to do.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Guts?” I was the least brave person I knew.

“Absolutely,” he said firmly. “You wanna know how many people see that kind of stuff and wish they could help, wish they could find the balls to just up and go? Hundreds. Maybe thousands. You wanna know how many people actually find the courage to do it? A handful. If that.”

I knew he was right. I was the only one from Mesa who’d signed up for the trip. There were other people at the airport with me, people who were going to different homes around Puerto Vallarta through PHP. Three. One was an older couple, close to my parents age, baby boomers who’d found themselves with an empty nest and wanted to start doing some charity work. And another was a guy from Colombia. He’d been studying on a student visa at SDSU and had never been to Mexico. We’d all chatted on the flight down to Puerto Vallarta and then gone our separate ways. No lasting connection, no hooking up while in Mexico, and no comparing stories after our visits were complete.

“You had the guts to realize you wanted to do something different,” Dex said. “And I’m not talking about switching majors or switching schools. That stuff is easy. You did a complete one-eighty. Walked away from everything to try something new.”

“
I guess.”

“
Don’t guess. Know. You did it.”

I did. The problem wasn’t recognizing that. The problem was trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

Dex leveled his eyes on me. It was the first time I noticed what color they were. Green. Not just any green. Green like the fields in Mexico. I couldn’t look away. “And so now you’re at a new crossroads, aren’t you?”

“
What do you mean?”

“
You know exactly what I mean,” he said. “You need to figure out just what’s next for you, Emma.”

THIRTEEN

What was next was calling Sage. I’d sidestepped the question posed by Dex, muttering something about not knowing or still trying to figure it out. And then his phone had buzzed and he’d jumped, realizing he was almost late for some finance meeting he’d scheduled.

“
Is it OK if I call you?” he’d asked. “I’d like to hear a little more about your time in Mexico. The family you lived with.”

I’d nodded and gave him my number. And then I’d gone to my car, turned on the engine so the air conditioning blasted cool, and called Sage.

“Slow down,” she commanded.

Words had spilled out of my mouth, tumbling over each other.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked. “Who is Dex?”

I filled her in.

“Jesus, Em. And why am I just now hearing about this?”

“
About what?” I asked.

She sighed loudly. “A guy.”

I shook my head, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “It was just some guy I ran into at school. Not like I hooked up on a dating service or something.”

“
Now there’s an idea,” she said. “Make sure you look for someone who doesn’t need a hazmat suit to kiss you.”

“
Shut up.”

She laughed. “Alright, whatever. So this Dex guy. You were talking to him. And Grant came in?”

“Yeah.”

“
And how did the Germinator react?”

I ignored her nickname for him. “He looked a little pissed.”

“Good.”

I rolled my eyes. “How on earth is that good?”

“Hang on. Other line is ringing.” She switched me to a Muzak track and I waited, my fingers drumming the steering wheel.

I hadn’t told her about the missing application. And I wasn’t going to. She was already on fire about the Dex and Grant situation. I didn’t need to give her any more fuel.

“I hate customers,” she said when she clicked back over.

“
Probably not a good attitude to have when you’re in the customer service business.”

“
No shit,” she said. “Alright, back to Grant being pissed.”

“
Yes. Apparently, you’re thrilled that he was ticked. Is this just because you hate him? Or is there an actual reason?”

“
Give me a little credit,” she said. I couldn’t see her but I knew she was rolling her eyes at me. “Look, if he was pissed, it means he cares. He was jealous.”

She had a point.

“Now, see, there’s your proof that I do care about you and that I don’t totally hate him.” Her voice was smug.

“
Uh. What?”

She tsked at me. “If I hated him so much, I’d secretly want him to not care if he saw you with another guy. And I certainly wouldn’t have pointed it out to you. Duh.”

I grinned. “Good point.”

“
OK, so what are you going to do now?”

“
About what?” I asked. “Grant? I’ll see him tonight. Tell him—again—that it was nothing. Just a meeting with a guy who runs a non-profit.”

“
Not what I was asking. Is the guy cute? This Dex dude?”

“
Sage,” I reprimanded. “I’m in a relationship.”

“
Yeah, but you’re not blind,” she pointed out. “Dish. Is he hot or no?”

I pictured Dex, his unruly hair, his eyes and earnest smile. His tall frame, lean and muscled. I swallowed. He was definitely good-looking.

“A little,” I admitted.

She let out a whistle. “Coming from you? That means he’s smokin’ hot. Awesome. When are you seeing him again?”

“Sage.”

“
Look, I just did my best friend duty in the whole point-out-the-positives-about-your-very-average-boyfriend. Allow me to get a little excited that there’s a new guy on the scene. Please. As your best friend, you owe me that.”

I smothered a giggle. She was impossible. “Fine. But I’m not seeing him again. Not yet, anyway.”

She considered this. “OK. But there’s a chance, right?”

More than a chance, I thought. Dex had my number. He still wanted to talk.

I wasn’t looking for a new boyfriend and I wasn’t looking to cheat on Grant but if he called me?

Yeah, I’d answer.

And I’d see him again.

FOURTEEN

Dinner was awkward. Grant and I sat in a booth at Tio Leo’s, a basket of tortilla chips between us. The water fountain in the middle of the restaurant was lit up like a rainbow, casting colorful shadows on our table top.

“So your interview was fine?” he asked.

“
What interview?” I asked. I’d spent part of the afternoon filling out applications in all the places I didn’t want to work. A few restaurants down by the beach. Stores at the mall. It was why we’d met for dinner by Fashion Valley—because I’d spent my afternoon trolling the mall, looking for help wanted signs. But I didn’t have any interviews.

“
With Declan?”

“
Oh. That.” I felt my cheeks redden. “I don’t know if you’d call it an interview.”

“
Well, that’s what he called it.”

“
I guess.” I grabbed a chip and carefully broke it in half before dipping it in the bowl of salsa on the table. I was fine with double-dipping with Grant. After all, we exchanged body fluids on a pretty regular basis. He, however, was not.

“
You guess what? Your interview was fine or that you actually had an interview?”

I glared at him. “Look, we talked. About Mexico. It was exactly what he said. Nothing more.”

Grant stared at me, his lips pressed together. Finally, he spoke. “I don’t like seeing you with other guys, Em.”

And I don’t like you tossing out my job application, I wanted to fire back. But I didn’t. Because it wasn’t the right time. I didn’t know if it would ever be the right time. And I had no proof that it had actually happened.

“But I wasn’t
with
him. We had a cup of coffee. And talked. About
Mexico
.”

He nodded. “I know, I know. I’m just saying
…I don’t know. I get a little jealous when it coms to you, OK?”

“
Since when?” I asked incredulously. He’d never once exhibited an ounce of jealousy, of possessiveness.

He shifted in the booth. “I don’t know. Since you left, I guess.”

I took a long sip of my soda. I knew he’d missed me. Physically, at least. We’d never had a particularly passionate sex life but I blamed that more on me than him. I just wasn’t passionate about anything. Sure, I wanted him and I liked being intimate with him and I was desperate for sex when I’d first seen him. But I attributed that to just wanting to have sex, period. Like how I’d wanted a burger and fries. Or a hot shower. And he’d always felt the same way. Sex with him was like a weekly affair. Like, when we remembered. It was never high on either of our lists.

To hear him say he was a little jealous was completely unexpected. He hadn’t shown any signs of possessiveness since I’d been home. I mean, it wasn’t like he didn’t want me out of his sight or was calling and texting me all of the time. If anything, we’d seemed to fall right back into our typical routine. He worked, we’d figure out a time to get together. If it didn’t work out, we’d try again the next day. There was no burning desire, no great need to be together.