Geoffrey sighs, fusses with his hair again. “I don’t have much to defend myself. Just a guy who’s married to his job and bad at communicating.”
I frown. “How can that be true? Your whole job is about active listening and follow-up questions. I’ve witnessed you be good at it.”
“Because I choose to be good at it. I actively work for it. I haven’t done that in my past relationships. My last serious one ended two years ago. Her name is Annika— mutual friends set us up. At the start, it was the easiest relationship I’d ever been in.”
“So, what happened?”
“I went on three back-to-back assignments, opportunities I thought were too important to pass up. I was flying back from Rome on the worst route with three layovers when I got a FaceTime call from her. Turns out, I had missed her birthday without realizing it.”
I grimace. “That’s pretty bad.”
“Yeah, she was more resigned than upset at that point.” He cringes, like he doesn’t want to keep going but plows ahead anyway. “Said I never considered her before I took those jobs. And she was right. She hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
“Seems like we’ve had the opposite problems in the past.”
He nods. “I don’t want that again. I’ve gone to enough therapy to know that I want to actively show up for someone I’m with. The path I’ve chosen is pretty lonely, and I want to see what would happen if I gave things a real shot.”
“And I don’t want to lose myself again.”
We’re dancing around the idea of us. What we want from the other. It feels too serious to directly name, but the real meaning behind our words hangs in the air between us. I know we both can see it there.
When I can’t stand it anymore, I nudge him with my shoulder and he pushes back against me. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” he says to my neck.
I lean in a little, even though we’re already closer than what propriety calls for.
“Are you always Geoffrey? Never Geoff?”
He laughs, soft and warm. “That’s not what you’re thinking right now.”
I shrug, hoping I look like one of those nonchalant women from a French noir. “It’s one of the things.” My heartbeat picks up and I find it hard to focus on determining what is the right thing to do now.
“What’s the other?” His eyes spark, and I know he knows the answer. But he’s drawing me out. Making me tell him.
My eyes drop to his mouth, and I remember the feel of his lips pressed against mine. How good it felt, how right. “You know I can’t say.”
“I know you think you can’t.” He turns toward me so our lips are a breath apart.
My mind is racing with a hundred, a billion, reasons why this is a bad idea.
Thoughts of Alex, the story, the public scrutiny, his job, the foundation swim laps in my brain, but for every valid, tangible reason I should walk away, there’s one reason to stay: I want to.