“Mm-hmm. Has to.”
“All right. Well, then it’s actually a listening meeting.”
“Perfect. So what’s the plan for today?” she asks.
“Well, the album party—sorry, meeting plans—are later tonight, so I thought we’d just hang out at the house all day and eat leftovers. Most of my family will still be here, so we can hang out with them, watch football. I don’t know if anyone is going to brave the crowds for any shopping, but if you wanted to tag along to that.”
“I’m okay with just hanging out here. I never do that.”
“What? Relax?”
She nods.
“All work and no play,” I say.
“That’s me.” Her eyes squint with her smile, and my heart melts like wax over my rib cage. That smile is my undoing.
I offer to change and get ready in a guest bathroom and scurry out of the room before she can protest. And before she can notice my…situation, which disappears quickly enough once I’m out of the bedroom.
Jessie meets me at the top of the stairs and we walk down together, joining everyone for coffee and breakfast, which is practically another feast.
“Is this what breakfast is always like at your house?” Jessie whispers to me as we stand at the coffee pot.
“Nah, Mom went all out for the family. Usually it’s a fight-for-your-cereal kind of breakfast place.”
She looks a little surprised but nods.
“What was breakfast like at your house?” I ask.
“Um…” Jessie darts her eyes around and shrugs. “I’m not much of a breakfast person, so I usually just had, like, some toast.” She stirs some cream into her coffee, staring intently at the cup, and I eye her plate piled high with a little bit of everything—fruit, a Danish, French toast bake, a hard-boiled egg, bacon, and toast. It’s a generous plate for someone who “isn’t a breakfast person,” but I bite my tongue.
After we eat, I volunteer to do the dishes, if for no other reason than just a bit of alone time, but it doesn’t last long, as Charlotte joins me. She picks up a kitchen towel and starts to dry some of the larger dishes that were air-drying on the counter.
“So,” she starts, her voice low enough that no one outside the kitchen can hear her, “I assume this is the Halloween party girl.”
“Yep,” I say, knowing exactly where this conversation is heading.
“And I’m assuming that if she’s here it means you did the right thing and told her who you were, and she’s here with full and complete knowledge about what passed between you?”
When she says it like that it sounds kind of bad.
“She does not know,” I admit.
Charlotte cocks her head to the side and gives me a face that screams, “What the hell?”
“It’s not like I didn’t try! But…it just…I can’t. I can’t tell her now. It’s way too late.”
How do I explain that I’ve decided never to tell her? That I’m sure I’ll lose her if I do and I’m not willing to risk it? I saw how hurt she was after she found out her mom lied to her. If I’d told her right there I would have been stacking hurt. And even now, telling her…I can’t. I don’t want to be that person in her life. But I don’t know how to tell Charlotte all this and make her understand.
“I know I’m butting in where I haven’t been asked to, but I have to tell you, Mac. I don’t see this ending well.”
Her words make me squirm inside. I don’t really want to think about that.
Dishes done, Charlotte gives me a meaningful glare and leaves the kitchen. I scowl at her when she leaves and then put the conversation out of my mind. She doesn’t understand. If she were in my shoes she would have done the same thing.
I join the group in the living room, where everyone is watching the pre-game football coverage. I take a seat on the arm of the chair Jessie is on, not sure how long I want to linger. Jessie’s having no trouble integrating with everyone. She fits in seamlessly with my family, but she also seemed okay yesterday until she wasn’t. I try to read her face, but when she looks up at me, the smile she gives is authentic. Maybe she is okay. I rest my hand lightly on her back, just to let her know I’m here and I’ll be damned if I sit this close to her without touching her. She leans against the arm of the chair, her shoulder pressing against my leg. We sit like this, just barely touching, until my butt goes numb from sitting weirdly and I wander back into the kitchen to see if my mom wants some help with lunch.
“Oh, I’m just prepping the leftovers. You go watch the games.”
