Page 110 of Wreckage and Rain

"Good answer." She slides back into the booth and pats the seat next to her. "Sit."

He sits next to Autumn.

Mama brings out fried green tomatoes, shrimp and grits, butter beans. Daddy carries the wine glasses Colt brought and pours from the bottle. We eat in booth four, the booth where I did my homework and fell in love with this man. There is laughter. Jake tells a story about a fishing trip that ended with him waist-deep in the marsh. Autumn tells one about a New York date she put in his place. Mama tells one about a customer who ordered grits without butter and got sent home with both.

Colt sits next to Autumn and listens. He laughs at the right places. He answers Daddy's questions about the SEC filing in the clean, short sentences my father respects. He doesn't perform. He doesn't over-explain. He has, somewhere along the way, lost the Bennet habit of filling the room.

I watch him across the table. He is the man I married. And he isn't.

After dinner, Daddy hugs me at the door. He doesn't let go for a long time.

"You okay, baby."

"I'm okay, Daddy."

"You sure."

"I'm sure enough."

"Mama and I are here. If sure enough turns into not sure at all, you call us."

"I will."

"He doing the work?"

"He is."

Daddy nods. Looks across the diner at Colt, who is helping Mama load the leftovers into Tupperware because that is what you do at the end of a meal at King's Diner whether you want to or not.

"Long way to come back from."

"Long way."

"He has the road in him?"

"I think he does."

"Hmph."

Daddy kisses the top of my head.

"Booth four is open whenever you need it."

"I know, Daddy."

***

We drive past the Bennet estate on the way back to the B&B.

I didn't plan it. Or I did. I didn't tell him I planned it. He sees me take the turn onto East Bay Street and he goes very still in the passenger seat and he doesn't say anything. He lets me drive.

The house is lit up. Lamps in every window. Sonny hasn't been home for days, according to Dom, who has eyes everywhere. But Vivienne is in there. Somewhere. Pretending the world is still the size it was a week ago.

I don't slow down. I don't stop. I drive past the gate at exactly the speed limit and I don't turn my head, and Colt doesn't turn his head either. Two soldiers passing a building that used to be a country.

At the next light, I exhale.

"You okay."