That's How it Happens

12. The Art of Saying No

Ainsley sat in the breakfast nook, coffee in hand, staring out at the pristine lawn. The quiet of her mother's house had a peculiar weight to it – thick and deliberate – even with Victoria seated just across the room. The silence, especially the lack of any mention of Leo, felt like a minor triumph.

Still, the previous night had gone too smoothly. Her body, worn and wary, held itself taut, anticipating the moment everything would unravel.

She was ready to leave. More accurately, they needed to leave before the metaphorical ball dropped and began its chaotic bounce. Yet here she was, suspended in a kind of limbo.

Leo was always up early. She'd packed the night before – though truthfully, she never fully unpacked – and at six sharp, she sent him a coffee emoji, hoping they could slip out unnoticed. But the plan crumbled: Leo was nowhere to be found.

When he didn't respond, she crossed the hall and called him. His phone buzzed loudly from inside the room, the sound tightening her chest with unease. Déjà vu swept over her. She pushed the door open and found the room empty. Oddly, the sight of his phone glowing on the nightstand brought a flicker of relief. Leo never went far without it. He must've gone for a run.

She tiptoed her way downstairs with their bags, hoping to avoid any encounters. No such luck. Her mother sat across the room, newspaper in hand, eyes sharp behind the pages.

"Your friend likes to sleep in," Victoria remarked, catching Ainsley's glance. "You know what they say about people who sleep in."

Ainsley didn't know, and she didn't ask. Instead, she turned back to the window, scanning the lawn for any sign of Leo. Nothing but a sea of green. Her stomach dropped. She braced herself, knowing her mother's judgment was never far behind.

"Good morning!" Leo strolled in like he owned the place, snatched Ainsley's mug, and took a generous sip. His shirt clung to him in damp patches – confirmation of some heroic early workout.

"I went for a run and bumped into Mr. Wilson," he said, grinning. "I thought I was the early bird, but he offered me a full-blown tour. This place is a maze! Too bad you like to sleep in – you could've shown me around. Your mom must run that poor man like a show pony."

Ainsley rolled her eyes toward Victoria, who was silently judging from behind her newspaper. Leo caught the vibe and pivoted with a sheepish smile.

"What I meant to say was, your grounds are stunning, Mrs. Drake. I hope it's okay Henry gave me the grand tour."

Normally, Ainsley would've cringed at Leo's verbal freestyle, but today? She let herself enjoy the rare sight of her mother caught off guard. It was like watching a cat slip off a countertop – unexpected and deeply satisfying.

She lifted the mug to her lips, only to find it empty. Of course. Leo had drained it like a frat boy at brunch. She sighed, tossed it in the sink, trying to ignore the compulsion to wash it herself – her mother would most definitely have a heart attack - and started mentally drafting her escape plan.

"Yes, Mr. Wilson keeps everything in order," Victoria said, her tone sharp enough to slice toast.

Ainsley turned to Leo, intercepting the tension like a seasoned referee. "We should head to the airport early. Beat the crowds."

Leo nodded instantly. He didn't care that it was way too early or that he smelled like a gym sock. Anything to avoid another round of figure-me-out quiet game. The chill in the room wasn't just from the air conditioner.

"You seem like a sensible man," Victoria said, folding her paper with theatrical precision. "Talk some sense into my daughter. The plane is ready – I called this morning."