Page 46 of How Dare You

-Rhett

I’ll eat on my own.

-Devon

I wasn’t asking. See you at 7.

-Trailer Daddy

-Notes on the whiteboard, August 29th

Devon

Whatever he’s barbequing outside smells so good that I consider abandoning the veggie sandwich I threw together and joining him outside.

“What’s that?” he asks, voice sharp.

Waiting until I finish my bite, I answer. “A sandwich.”

“I’m grilling.” He walks toward me. “We’re having dinner outside in ten minutes.”

“I don’t want to eat with you.” I reach for another bite of my sandwich, but he grabs the plate from my lap before I can, fingers grazing my thighs as he pulls it away.

“Hey, I was—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.

“Too bad.” He shoves the plate in the fridge and starts pulling out condiments. “You can eat outside with me.”

We’ve barely spoken in the past few days. Originally, I was livid that he brought up Trina and couldn’t leave well enough alone, but it has turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Holding that grudge is unnecessary, but it is a good excuse to keep the distance between us that I desperately need. I let my control slip the other night, and I refuse to imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t brought up Trina.

Needing space, I stopped going to the house with him, opting instead to work on my computer in the air-conditioned trailer. I’ve missed him—which is maddening. I still have five days left, and I’m tempted to call it quits, so I can go home and work on things that would actually help my business and hopefully get him off my mind. But I made a commitment, and Bea is doing an amazing job without me.

This morning, I caved and finally read through emails, and she’s handling every single thing that comes at her with efficiency and professionalism. We didn’t get the Azul Lounge, but I can hardly blame her or my absence for that. She even has a presentation on the calendar in a couple weeks for a project that must have come in since I’ve been gone. She’s preparing everything without me, which makes me a little nervous because of who I am, but I’m still excited to watch her pull it off.

“Ten minutes,” he says, closing the door behind him.

Something has gotten into him tonight. There is a harshness in his voice and a set to his jaw I’m unaccustomed to that has me immensely curious about what he has to say.

For now, I have two options. Go to bed hungry at seven or eat delicious barbeque outside with this version of Rhett that speaks in clipped sentences and tells me what to do. From the window, I can see him standing at the grill, same firm set to his jaw in place. He’s not going to let me get away with it either. I can’t avoid him forever, but I can make him wait.

Flipping to a page in my sketchbook where I’d started to draw a sparrow, I lean back on the cushioned dinette bench and focus on shading the wings. Without checking my watch, I know the door swings open at exactly seven.

“You’re coming.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Let’s go, mama.” The nickname is the softest he’s been with me all day, and the butterflies that are old friends at this point flutter in response. He stands on the steps outside, between his pink flamingos and leans into the open door. When he realizes I’m not moving, he closes the distance between us and comes to a stop just inches from me. “Do I need to carry you out there?”

“Why is dinner together suddenly so important to you?” I ask.

He folds the table up into the wall, so it no longer serves as a barrier between us, and holds out a hand for me to take, voice softening the slightest amount. “When you come outside, I’ll tell you.”

The power in his voice draws me to him, but going outside would be losing ground in what’s likely to be a long battle this evening. I look back down at my drawing. “No one tells me what to do.”

“No one else tells you what to do.” He pulls me to standing, steadying me with a hand on my low back. “But you listen when I talk. If you would let your mind rest for just a minute,” he drops his voice lower, speaks more slowly, “I think you’ll find you enjoy doing what I tell you.”

My face flames, though I can’t tell if it’s from anger or the fact that he may be right. I followed him around that first night, did everything he asked, and it was the freest I’ve felt in years.

“Or are you too afraid of what’ll happen if you allow yourself to spend time with me now that I’ve kissed you again, and you remember how good it can be? Too afraid of what happens if you loosen the reins and let yourself live a little.” He steps back, dropping his hand and leaving me hungry for his touch.

He’s baiting me. And it’s working. Dammit.

Rhett