The Distance Between Us

guy.”
    “Okay . . . what do we know so far?”
    “Nothing.”
    He clears his throat. “Miss Scientific Observer has no concrete facts?”
    “I have a feeling.” That if my mom is pregnant I need to know everything I can about the potential father.
    “Do feelings prove theories now?”
    “Shut up.”
    He laughs and grabs hold of my hand. It surprises me and I must jump because he squeezes it with a chuckle. It’s weird holding his hand. I think about the picture I saw in the magazine of him and Sadie holding hands and wonder if someone is waiting in the shadows now to take a picture of us.
    Almost as if he read my mind he says, “We moved here to get out of the spotlight. Los Angeles is awful. We had no privacy there whatsoever.”
    I nod, not sure what the proper response to that is.
    “But considering this isn’t exactly the thriving metropolis of California and how spread out our business is, we travel a lot. My father drags me along on some occasions. Like tomorrow. I have to go to Florida until Friday and then I have the benefit on Saturday.”
    He’s not asking my permission . . . is he? He’s just telling me because . . . because why? We’re together now?
    “I guess my point is when can I see you again?”
    “Oh. Next week?”
    “You’ll pencil me in on the really big calendar?”
    “I don’t know. It might be booked solid. My super busy life and I will have to check.”
    When we round the corner I can see the red and white awning of Luigi’s Italian Restaurant . . . and the back of my mom as she closes the door behind her. Hmm. That’s not what was supposed to happen. She was supposed to meet up with tall, dark, and creepy.
    “What now?” Xander asks.
    “We wait.” I walk to a small patch of grass on the corner of the block that gives us a good view of Luigi’s but isn’t in full view of the window. I sit down. “Worried about ruining your jeans?” I ask when he hesitates. “It’s not wet.”
    “No . . . it’s just . . . are we spying on your mom?” He sits down next to me.
    “Yes,” I admit with a wince.
    “Caymen, I know you’re upset, but is this really the right way to go about it?”
    I point to the pictures he’s still holding. “I need to know about him.”
    He flips through the pictures again. “Is this him? The father of . . .” He can’t even finish the sentence. It’s like he’s as ashamed as I am. I wonder if he’s ever known anyone who got pregnant out of wedlock.
    “Yes.” I lean back on my palms.
    He nods once then looks around. “So how long are we going to wait here?”
    I glance toward Luigi’s. “I don’t know.” Maybe she’s going to see Matthew after the meeting. I take the pictures he’s still holding back and look through them again.
    “So you think I’d make a good detective?”
    “What?”
    “Tonight. Your ‘career night.’” He actually does air quotes and manages to make them look somewhat classy. “That’s what you said tonight was, right? You’re supposed to be finding me suitable options to explore. Is detective work something you think I’d be good at?”
    “Yeah. Sure.”
    “Because I’m so good at observations and reading into clues and interpreting signals?” He picks at the grass, pulling a few blades free. He looks so hurt.
    My warning light goes off, telling me to back up, fix this; tell him, “No, it was about me and my mom and I just needed your help.” I open my mouth, but it’s too late.
    He stands up and brushes off his hands then holds one out to me. “I’ll walk you back.”
    “I’m staying.”
    “Okay.” He starts to walk away.
    “I’m sorry,” I say to his back. He stops. “I’ve been so self-absorbed and lame. You’ve done all these amazing things for me and I haven’t done anything for you. I took you grave digging. You took me to UNLV.”
    He turns to face me.
    I point up the street. “I was going to take you to Eddie’s. He was going to teach us how to make his famous muffins and tell us how he started his business and stuff. I thought you might like it because you love food and I could see you owning your own restaurant or something. But then this happened and . . .”
    He closes the distance between us, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me.
    I can’t breathe for a moment, and then all I want to do is breathe him in. Eat, sleep, and drink Xander Spence. I can’t get enough. I don’t know how I existed without him because his energy feels like my sustaining force