**Kat**
As it was the week before fall semester, I needed to read through my class materials. Therefore, I spent the weekend studying, trying to get ahead in my courses just in case I had a work emergency during the semester.
Yet, I was distracted. Sandra’s suggestion that I do sexy research distracted me. Plus, I didn’t know whether I should call Dan or text him or what. My habit of avoiding him had become ingrained. We still had a great deal to discuss. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to make contact.
Instead, needing the diversion, I baked Janie a lemon loaf and took it to her—and her husband Quinn—on Sunday night. He spent the first half hour hovering, which wasn’t a surprise. He’d been hovering since Janie had been placed on bed rest earlier in the summer.
I endeavored to distract them both, discussing various and sundry topics such as the rise of cryptocurrencies amid the volatility of global markets, and the applicability of Keynesian economics in the current political climate.
This worked. He was drawn out of his broody shell for an evening, and she seemed in better spirits when I left. Quinn insisted on calling a car for me, and I didn’t turn him down. It was late and I’d loitered too long, enjoying their company.
While being chauffeured home, I received a call from Dan.
Except, it wasn’t Dan.
I mean, it was.
But it wasn’t.
I stared for a good four or five seconds at my phone before answering, as I was completely confounded by the word flashing on the screen. It read, Husband.
Bringing the cell to my ear, I asked tentatively, “Hello?”
“Hey,” a masculine voice responded, like I should know who he was.
And I did. But my confusion lingered.
“Dan?”
“Yeah.”
But how . . .
“My phone, it said—I mean—did you change your contact information in my phone?”
“No, I didn’t.” If I wasn’t mistaken, his voice held a smile. “Why?”
I pulled the cell from my ear and, sure enough, instead of Dan O’Malley, he was listed in my phone as Husband.
“Kat?”
“Yes. I’m here.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because—” I stopped myself, nagging dread clawing at the back of my neck.
I must’ve changed it.
But I didn’t remember changing it.
And for someone with my family history, this was a troubling realization.
“Hey? Are you still there?”
“Yes.” I swallowed my trepidation, pushing it to the back of my mind. I would have to deal with it later. Much later. One emergency at a time. “You called?”
“Are you okay?” Now he sounded concerned.
“Yes. Fine,” I answered tightly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, then paused. I heard someone in the background call him Mr. O’Malley, and tell him they were almost ready to take off, and would he please buckle his seat belt. “Listen, I’m just about to leave London for New York, but I’ll be back in town a day earlier than I thought, late Wednesday night.”
“Oh.” I held my breath for some reason. I didn’t have a clue as to why.
Actually, I did know why. Part of me—a sliver of me—thought he might be about to ask me on a date. A real date. And that was weird, right?
. . . Right? Because, if he did ask me out, it wouldn’t be a real date. It would be more like a work meeting than a date.
Yet, still, the sliver was excited.
It was times like these I wished I had a direct line to someone who could triage my perceptions, maybe even a committee, to tell me if my train of thought was on track or derailed.
“I called Luis,” he continued. “He can’t move the ceremony to Thursday because the officiant, Mr. Lee, is off. And he wants us to use that guy ’cause I guess he always wears the same suit. So we’re still on for Friday.”
“Oh. Okay.” I glanced around the interior of the car, absorbing nothing of my surroundings. “I think that’s fine—I mean—as long as that still works for you?”
“Yeah, yeah. That works for me. But I was thinking, since I’m back early, we should probably try to, you know, touch base.”
“Yes. Absolutely.” I was nodding, even as a spike of restlessness flared within me.
“Okay, yeah. Good. Thursday night?”
Preposterously, my sliver of self was happy with the non-date, because it would still be time spent over food and in each other’s company. Apparently, my sliver was easy to please.
I couldn’t decide whether the rest of me was excited for the non-date, or dreading it. I still needed to review my list of misdeeds with Dan and I knew it would be uncomfortably awkward.