She cuddled up to me, touching a series of soft kisses to the side of my neck and running her fingertip along the center of my chest.
“Are you hungry? I could go make us something.”
“No,” I said.
She lifted her head and looked at me with an expression that was somewhere between amused and quizzical.
“Okay. If you’re so afraid of my cooking, we can always order something in.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, no, I’m not hungry,” I said.
“Oh, okay. Then we don’t have to eat yet. We could rent some movies and veg out for the rest of the day,” she suggested.
“Actually, I think we should go get your car,” I said. “You really shouldn’t leave it sitting in the hospital parking lot this long. They might tow it.”
I pulled myself out from under her and climbed out of bed. Stealing a glimpse at her out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the slightly stung look on her face. I purposely said “you” rather than “we,” and it seemed Lindsey noticed. But it was more for my own benefit than it was for hers. I needed to distance myself, to dial it back on how often I referred to us as a unit. Maybe then I’d be able to see things more clearly. I needed that perspective, that chance to really figure out what was going on.
We got dressed, and I dropped a little pile of treats in front of Frankie to compensate for the lack of attention he’d been getting all day. We got in my truck and made our way back to the hospital. I heard the musical sound of her phone alerting in her pocket, and Lindsey fished it out. I glanced over at her as she read the message on it.
“From Grant?” I asked. “Is everything okay with Remy?”
“Actually, it’s from Nick. He went into the bar last night during the event and took some pictures for me. Apparently, it was a huge success, and everybody thought it was so unique and special. Nick says a couple of the guests gave the head bartender their contact information and want me to get in touch with them about hosting their own events at the bar,” she said.
“Is that what you want?” I asked.
“Are we getting back into this conversation?” she asked. “I don’t understand why it’s so important to you. It’s like you have something against private events. Which seems strange considering how often your family gets together for parties and celebrations.”
“Yes, but we do that at our own houses. We go to your bar to celebrate, but we don’t try to take it over. Remember, I do own restaurants. I know a little bit about the subject,” I said.
My voice was harsher than I meant it to be, and all the humor dropped from Lindsey’s face.
She pulled herself up to sit straighter in the seat, pressing her lips together. “Well, I might not have a restaurant, but I do have a bar. One that’s been around for three generations now and is doing just fine. If I have people who appreciate and love my space enough to want to rent it out for their own party, I don’t understand why I shouldn’t be able to.”
I let out a sigh. “You should be able to. You’re right, it’s your bar and you should do with it whatever you want to. It’s really sweet that couple wanted to celebrate their anniversary there. Loving somebody for that long must really be incredible.”
I pulled around to the parking lot where she left her car the day before but stayed in my seat rather than getting out. She walked around to the driver’s door, and I rolled down the window to talk to her.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said, trying to inject playfulness into her voice like she wanted to dissipate the awkwardness of the rest of the conversation.
I leaned down and touched a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re welcome.”
“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” she asked. “Because I can stop and pick something up on the way back to your house.”
“Actually, I think you need to head home to your house,” I said.
“Oh,” she said with a smile, “you want to go back to our original plan? Salvage some of this staycation?”
“No, I think you should go home, and I’ll go back to my house. You need to get back to your own schedule, and so do I,” I said.
“What do you mean we should get back to our own schedules?” she asked.
“Everything got thrown off this weekend,” I said. “Neither one of us expected any of it to happen, but it did and it’s going to affect a lot. We need to deal with it and make sure everything else in our lives gets taken care of too. You have the bar to run, and Remy to look in on, and I have to make sure everybody is ready for the upcoming races. It’s better if we just put the whole staycation plan behind us.”