Eric followed, set her suitcase down, and looked around. Gwen walked into the kitchen and set her keys on the center island.
“It smells so familiar,” Eric said. “Like home.”
There it was again—the assumption that this was where he was meant to be. But he’d built a different home with a different womansince he had been here last. Gwen wondered what that house smelled like to him.
Eric strolled into her den, where she’d spent most of her leisure time the previous winter. He perused her bookshelf and found a title that he remembered. He slid it out and flipped through the pages.
She recalled Peter doing the same thing in the same spot, quite recently.
“We both read this one,” Eric said. “You read it first, and then you recommended it to me. You always had such great taste in books. Or maybe we were just on the same page.” He smiled at her. “How’d you like that metaphor?”
Gwen chuckled. “Nice one.” She leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms, watching him.
“You look pensive,” he said after a while as he moved to the love seat and sat down. He leaned back and continued to gaze about the room.
Gwen thought he looked sad and forlorn, which softened her heart a little. She moved out of the doorway and joined him on the sofa.
“It must be strange for you,” she said, “being back here.”
“It is. It’s hard to look at everything. I think of the good times we had here. And of course, you being pregnant with Lily. We barely got the nursery painted before ...” He couldn’t finish.
They sat beside each other, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.
“After you left,” Gwen said, “I wanted to move. I couldn’t bear to live here alone with that freshly painted empty room upstairs. But I didn’t have the energy to call a real estate agent and put the house up for sale. Thank goodness.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too. But the nursery hasn’t been touched. The crib and baby stuff are still there. I keep the door closed.”
Eric sat forward and bowed his head. She sat forward as well.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I know I have no right to ask this question, but I have to, or I’ll go nuts.”
“What question?”
He spoke hesitantly. “What’s the story with you and the guy you went to Alaska with? Are you together?”
The guy ...
Gwen stared at Eric. “I don’t know. He lives in LA, and I live here.”
“He’s gone back there?”
“Yes.”
“But is that the end of it?” Eric asked.
Gwen shrugged. “I’m not sure. We’ll be in touch quite a bit over the next year because he’s working on a project about Scarlett.”
Eric leaned back and turned his attention to the ceiling again. He let out a dejected sigh. “I figured that’s what you were working on. But why Alaska?”
Gwen scratched her nose. “I can’t really say. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
Eric made a face. “Fine.” He folded his hands over his belt buckle.
A noisy motorcycle sped by on the road outside. Then it grew quiet again.
