He smiled. He was in the other freestanding seat across from me, his friends chattering loudly in the row behind. “Don’t worry. We know how to hold space for newcomers.”
There was something almost uncomfortably intimate about the moment—maybe because of the warmth in Richard’s blue eyes, only partially visible in the dark. But he wore a wedding ring. They all did. Not that I was there looking for anything other than myself. That was the whole point.
“Thanks.” I nodded and looked back toward the window and the darkness beyond.
I certainly had not come all the way to Africa to arrive back at the beginning—with a man who did not belong to me.
—
Luckily, the rest of the long drive to base camp was consumed by the boisterous conversation of the men.This is exactly like Peru. Don’t you dare eat goat like in Bhutan if I’m going to be trapped in a tent with you.Evidently, they’d been taking trips together like this for years and they took turns planning. This trip had been on Brooks.
Scotty and Brooks were the talkers, nearly nonstop for the whole hour-and-forty-five-minute drive. Most of it was good-natured ribbing, trying to one-up each other. Richard seemed to be the benevolent leader, Scotty the affable comedian (often at his own expense), and Van the group’s warm, soft heart. Brooks was a little harder to figure out. Nice enough and obviously very smart, maybe even smarter than the rest of them, but also a little awkward and guarded. The nerd of the group, for sure.
“This is my wife, Hilary,” Scotty offered at one point, handingme his phone to look at photos, carefully watching my expression. His wife was way out of his league. Scotty wasn’t unattractive, but he wasn’t as fit as Van or as charismatic as Richard. Even Brooks had a certain magnetism. Scotty was just a friendly average Joe.
“Scotty’s most remarkable qualityisHilary,” Richard said.
“She’s gorgeous,” I said as Scotty stared at me expectantly.
“She’s perfect in every way,” he said, beaming. “She’s best friends with Gretchen, Richard’s wife.”
Van and Brooks were also married. Van’s admiration for his wife seemed a little less grandiose but no less genuine.
“And Melinda and Brooks are in a throuple with their jobs,” Scotty quipped as he and Van high-fived.
“If by that you mean that I’m married to a woman who’s my intellectual equal, then yes,” Brooks replied. “I am.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “Feminism thanks you, Brooks.”
“Are we sure Melindaisa woman?” Van asked. Now everyone laughed, even Brooks.
Melinda was apparently a partner at a prestigious D.C. law firm where she and Brooks had met years ago before he’d left to join his family’s company.
“We’re kidding; Melinda is great,” Scotty said, though he didn’t sound sure.
“She’ll make an excellent first lady of Grace Chemical,” Van said. “Once they hurry up and hand you the baton. You deserve that CEO slot, Brooks.”
“Thank you, Van,” he said. “I appreciate that. Seems like there’s some kind of reverse nepotism thing going on at the moment.”
“That’s bullshit,” Scotty said. “Van’s right. You’ve earned that job fair and square. You paid your dues.”
“Anyway, Melinda will be the real CEO,” Richard said. “Brooks has always been just a puppet. I’m surprised they haven’t figured that out and ousted you.”
“Great, thanks, Richard,” Brooks said, sounding wounded. Van gestured for Richard to lay off and Richard made an apologetic face. Something about Brooks’s job had rendered it off-limits for joking, it seemed.
I had no idea what was going on beyond love and history. But I did have old friends from college who sometimes squabbled like family.
“Just to, on purpose, change the subject,” Van said, reaching over to pat Scotty’s ample belly. He was the most obviously out of shape. “Did you do anything to prepare for this?”
“Excuse me, Mr. Former NFL.” Scotty laughed good-naturedly. He seemed game to be the butt of any joke. “But not all of us were born with your natural physical gifts.”
“You played in the NFL?” I asked. Even I knew this was impressive.
Van waved off the question with one of his oversize hands. He was nearly as tall as Richard but built like a linebacker—ripped, too. “An ill-fated cameo.”
“Come on, Van, don’t be modest,” Richard said. “You were a first-round draft pick, played for two years. You would have been an All-Star if it hadn’t been for your knee.”
The jeep slowed, then turned off the paved main road onto a much narrower gravel track that sent the whole car vibrating.
