“It just seemed like the easiest way.”
“Easier for who?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about what it would be like in the morning, loading Mare’s car and … I couldn’t do it, Trav,” I said.
“It’s bad enough that you aren’t going to be here anymore. You can’t just drop out of my life.”
I forced a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I don’t want anything to be weird, okay? I just need to sort some stuff out. That’s all.”
“Okay,” he said. “I can do that.”
I hung up the phone, and America glared at me. “You slept with him? You bitch! You weren’t even going to tell me?”
I rolled my eyes and fell against the pillow. “This isn’t about you, Mare. This has just become one convoluted clusterfuck.”
“What’s so difficult about it? You two should be deliriously happy, not breaking doors and hiding in your room!”
“I can’t be with him,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on the ceiling.
Her hand covered mine, and she spoke softly. “Travis needs work. Trust me, I understand any and all reservations you have about him, but look how much he’s already changed for you. Think about the last two weeks, Abby. He’s not Mick.”
“I’m Mick! I get involved with Travis and everything we’ve worked for … poof!” I snapped my fingers. “Just like that!”
“Travis wouldn’t let that happen.”
“It’s not up to him, now is it?”
“You’re going to break his heart, Abby. You’re going to break his heart! The one girl he trusts enough to fall for, and you’re going to nail him to the wall!”
I turned away from her, unable to see the expression that went with the pleading tone in her voice. “I need the happy ending. That’s why we came here.”
“You don’t have to do this. It could work.”
“Until my luck runs out.”
America threw up her hands, letting them fall into her lap. “Jesus, Abby, not this shit again. We talked about this.”
My phone rang, and I looked at the display. “It’s Parker.”
She shook her head. “We’re still talking.”
“Hello?” I answered, avoiding America’s glare.
“Abs! Day one of freedom! How does it feel?” he said.
“It feels … free,” I said, unable to muster up any enthusiasm.
“Dinner tomorrow night? I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah,” I wiped my nose with my sleeve. “Tomorrow’s great.”
After I hung up the phone, America frowned. “He’s going to ask me when I get back,” she said. “He’s going to want to know what we talked about. What am I supposed to tell him?”
“Tell him that I’ll keep my promise. By this time tomorrow, he won’t miss me.”
Chapter Ten
POKER FACE