We don’t stop walking, but I acknowledge her with a quick shake of my head. “Not here. There are too many people.”
She falls quiet with a little huff. The first room we come to is completely dark. I stick my head in and then keep walking. My luck we’d end up locked in a dark room and no one would find our bodies until next week. The room next to that has a party going as well. Probably another wedding. Then, a few doors down from the main ballroom, I find a smaller room with a few tables and chairs. It looks like it was being setup for some kind of meeting. I can only hope we’ll have privacy long enough for me to get to the bottom of Anya’s sudden interest in the future.
“You’re not going to make me forget what we were talking about. If that’s what this little game of Where’s Waldo is about.”
Anya plops down in one of the chairs and crosses her arms. That’s when I get my first glimpse of her face. She’s really upset. I kneel in front of her and tug on one of her hands until she allows me to hold it.
“What’s going on with you? You disappear to get drunk and now you’re suddenly talking about getting married? Forgive me for being a little lost.”
She looks sad for a moment and I think that scares me more than anything she’s said so far. Anya is relentlessly optimistic. In the office, she’s an energetic dynamo that keeps us all organized and on schedule. After hours, she’s the bright, spontaneous ray of sunshine that shines light into my life after years of thunderstorms. I never thought I’d feel hope for the future again but Anya brought me back into the world of the living.
The idea that she’s not as happy with me as I am with her feels like being hit in the face with a frying pan.
“Law, are you happy with what we have? Just dating with no talk of the future? No labels and no commitment?”
My answer hovers on the tip of my tongue. It feels reckless to tell the truth right now since what we have obviously isn’t working for her.
“I don’t want to lose you. You make me happy.” My hope that honesty might be enough is dashed when her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I know. You make me happy, too. I was just wondering.”
She no longer looks as sad but there’s a resolute look in her eyes that’s just as frightening.
“Let’s go home, Anya. You’re drunk and I’m tired. You can stay over and we’ll make French toast tomorrow.”
As I’m talking I’m inwardly disgusted with myself. I’m saying she can spend the night like it’s a gift. I should be grateful a woman like her would even want to.
“Okay. Let me just say goodbye to Casey.” She presses a soft kiss against my forehead before she stands and walks away.
I watch her go feeling like I narrowly missed getting hit by a train. But something tells me this particular train will be coming back for me at some point.
7
ANYA
For the past year, Law and I have had a predictable pattern. We spend countless weeknights binging reality TV and many lazy Saturdays cooking or watching movies. Every weekend, I ignore the nagging warning sound in the back of my head and revel in the feeling of waking up in Law’s arms.
Then every Sunday night, I head back to my place to get ready for work the next day.
It’s a weird system but it works for us.
Until the day it doesn’t.
“What’s going on with you? Rough weekend?” Mya Taylor-Hamilton appears at the door to my office, the tablet she always carries clutched against her chest.
She’s one of the VPs and a total marketing badass. Despite being one of the executives here and basically another boss, she also manages to be one of the nicest people at the same time. Not the easiest feat.
“Nothing! It’s just … Monday. I drank a bit too much this weekend.” Clearly my concealer isn’t doing a great job covering the effects of my sleepless night.
Going home is always a bit of a wakeup call but last night was worse than usual. My roommate, Jessi, forgot to throw away her takeout and there was a sour odor in the kitchen I couldn’t get rid of even after I sprayed the room with air freshener. Smelling that definitely started my morning off on a bad note.
Jessi works at my favorite bar near the office. We became friends over the years and when my last roommate moved out, she was an ideal fit since she works nights as a bartender while she’s finishing her Accounting degree. I spend so much time at Law’s house that we barely see each other. Since I’m usually not there, it feels more like a storage center than an apartment.
Which is weird since I definitely don’t live at Law’s house.
Just imagining his response if I were to bring up moving in sends my mood right back into the basement.
She smiles in understanding. “Say no more. I’ve definitely been there.”