"No." I shake my head, staring into the flames. "He's not coming. I guess he's not into camping. It's just me."
"Sam's not here either. She had to fly to New York for work."
"You're usually with your kids on the weekend."
"Yeah.They're visiting Kaitlynn's parents in Minnesota." He shrugs, a small gesture. "So I get to be Casual Vince."
"Casual Vince?"
He laughs, but his eyes remain fixed on the little fire I've made, the flames dancing in their depths. "Yeah, you know..." His voice trails off, lost in the crackle of the fire, and I wonder what thoughts flicker behind his eyes.
"As in, you're not playing Dad Vince or Boyfriend Vince?" I guess.
He glances at me, grinning. The soft brown of his eyes pulls me in before I can stop myself. "Exactly."
I'm glad I've started the fire early. It really does get chilly once the sun goes down.
The party around us grows louder, but Vince and I arenowthe only ones at the fire. Everyone else is drinking, socializing at the picnic tables, or dancing to music playing faintly from a distant speaker.
Vince, who usually attracts a crowd wherever he goes, stays right there with me. No one interrupts us. We sit in comfortable silence, watching the flames flicker and twist over the logs.
Vince is the first person in my life, aside from my siblings, with whom I can share a silence that doesn't feel awkward. Even during our weekday runs or early morning drives, we often don't say much. I love that about him.
As I sit there, watching the firelight dance across his face, I think about what he'd said earlier about playing different roles. Maybe that's why I like it. Maybe I'm being Casual Andrew, letting my guard down. Just being.
"Hey, Andy?" Vince says, breaking the silence.
I smile into the fire. I love the way he says my name, like it's something special. "Yeah?"
"What book are you reading right now?"
"I'm not saying. You're just going to make fun of me."
He's already smiling. "Tell me."
"It's still John Stein—"
He laughs, sitting up straight and slapping his knee. "How are you always readingSteinbeck?"
I roll my eyes but can't help smiling back. "I told you, I reread his books a lot. Right now, it'sOf Mice and Men."
"It's so dry. It’s so goddamn depressing."
I laugh, looking over at him. "I guess I like dry and depressing, then."
"Fucking weirdo." The words fall from his lips, but the look in his eyes sends goosebumps racing up my arms.
"Is that why you're really out here?" he teases, his voice light. "You doing some weird Grapes of Wrath journey to California? Great film, by the way. Still depressing."
I frown, but a smirk tugs at my lips. "What? No. I came out here to try and open a yoga studio."
"Did you really, though, Andy?"
My smile fades.
Vince possesses this innate ability to read people, to see right through them. I guess it's some kind of actor skill, studying people is part of the job, after all, but... it throws me off every time. He always seems to know exactly what I don't want to say.
"No," I admit quietly.
