“I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
Gingerly, I set the brush down and make my way over to the kitchen. Fuck the finish. I’ll fix it on Monday. I pull out the chair across from her and take a seat.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Marissa shrugs. There are creases in her forehead and she looks exhausted. I’m flooded with a fresh wave of anger at her asshole ex-husband for doing it to her. Based on her reaction, I doubt it’s the first time he’s pulled shit like this.
“You think I’d be used to it by now,” she says, confirming my suspicion. “I always have to be the responsible parent, the one who keeps everything going, and then Rocky gets to swoop in and be the fun one. But the kids adore him, so what am I going to do? Deny them time with their father? Tell him to be less… Rocky?”
She gestures half-heartedly to the pot resting on the side of the stove and barks out a humorless laugh.
“Guess I’m having buttered noodles for dinner. Care to join me?”
I don’t laugh back. I’m too busy swallowing the urge to chasethis Rocky character down the street and tell him exactly where he can shove his burger and fries. Not that I’d ever do something like that in front of the kids. Besides, the only person who deserves my attention is the morose woman slumped in front of me. A woman who deserves so much more than discarded pasta.
“Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner?” I offer. “Save the noodles for tomorrow’s lunch.”
Her eyes widen as she regards me, and I feel a momentary wave of panic. Maybe I’ve overstepped here. As far as she knows, I’m just the carpenter she met last week. Practically a stranger.
I’m not a stranger, though. Not really.
Maybe this is the moment to come clean, to tell her that I’m the kid she spent all those summer nights with. The one who held the glass jar as she chased fireflies around the lake. The one who read an entire mystery series, just so he’d have something to talk about with her. Who never suspected he’d end up falling in love with books and become a lifelong reader.
I part my lips to confess and then slam them shut again. Maybe this isn’t the right time. She’s clearly upset, and I don’t want her to think I’m an opportunist, taking advantage of her when she’s at her lowest. Maybe offering to take her out was a bad idea to begin with.
But then she smiles, and relief floods through me.
“Actually,” she says, “that sounds delightful.”
I hastily brush the contents of my passenger seat into the back. It’s mostly junk mail I never managed to bring into the house and a few napkins from the coffee shop, but I’m still mortified by the thought of asking a movie star to sit on them.
I turn to offer her a hand, but she’s already hoisted herself up into the truck’s passenger seat. She offers me a conciliatory smile as she buckles her seatbelt.
“Please don’t worry about a messy car,” she says. “I have two kids under the age of ten. A tidy car would be far more alarming. I’d worry I was hitching a ride with a serial killer.”
Some of the tension melts from my shoulders, and I smile back at her before walking around to the driver’s side.Be cool.She’s just a regular person. Tonight will be no different than going out with any other woman.
But my brain can’t convince my body when I slide into the seat beside her. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that Marissa is not like any other woman.
I shake my head, attempting to clear it.Get it together, man.
“So, where are we headed?” she asks, snapping me out of my pathetic trance.
“Uh.” I clear my throat. “There’s a lakeside tavern about a mile up the road. They have decent food, and you can usually get a table outside. Enjoy a nice view of the sunset.”
Who do I think I am right now?A nice view of the sunset?I wish I could shove my own fist down my throat.
“Sounds perfect,” Marissa says.
She’s quiet for the rest of the short drive, staring out the window at the winding roads. But when we climb out of the truck, I catch her glancing furtively around the parking lot. I can’t help but notice how out of place she looks. Even in casual clothes, there’s no denying her star quality. She looks like a diamond dropped into a pile of planting soil.What was I thinking, bringing her here?
“Everything okay?” I ask tentatively.
She gives me a tight smile. “Yeah. It just occurred to me that Rocky might have had the same idea. But it looks like the coast is clear.”
That’s a relief I hadn’t anticipated needing. I’m not sure I have the strength to sit through dinner with that guy in the same room. Not after the way he torpedoed her evening.
She takes a step toward the door. Instinctively, I reach for herlower back, thankfully pulling my hand away before making contact. I flex my fingers, then tuck them safely into my pocket.
