Page 172 of Rhodes

“Okay.”

I hang up and set the phone in the cup holder.

He opens the door before I can knock twice.

For a second, the silence stretches between us. He's got on flip-flops, wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt, hair still damp like he showered after we hung up. Nothing about him looks prepared for this conversation, which somehow makes him hotter.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

He steps aside and lets me in.

The house looks almost exactly the same, which is more disorienting than if he had changed everything. I set my bag on the chair by the door, just like I used to do every day after class, and follow him into the kitchen.

“Do you want anything?” he asks. “Water, coffee?”

“Water’s good.”

He gets me a glass and leans against the opposite counter instead of coming closer. I buy myself a minute with my drink.

“I’m sorry I disappeared this week,” I say finally.

“You didn’t disappear.”

“I kind of did.”

“Yeah, well, you didn't owe me anything. Don't feel like you have to apologize.”

“Thank you for giving me space to figure everything out.”

His mouth shifts slightly. “I’m getting better at it.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.”

He waits. I set the glass down.

“I’ve been thinking about the last few weeks. The shell, the meetings, Oak Moss. You could have taken over about ten different times.”

“You had pretty good command of everything.”

“I’m trying to be serious. I appreciate you saying that, but there were times you could have made decisions without asking me. I want you to know I noticed.”

His expression settles.

“They were your decisions to make.”

“I know. I just needed to see that you knew it, too.”

He looks at me for a long second. “I do.”

“Jo told me, by the way, about the pickleball courts, and you asking how I was. She also told me you told her not to tell me." I watch his jaw go tight and stay tight. "She sat on it for months until she thought I could hear it as a kindness instead of one more person handling me. She was right to wait. I am still telling you I would rather have heard it from you.”

“I understand what I did wrong, Tallulah. I thought helping meant getting ahead of the problem before you had to deal with it. I don’t think that way anymore. I’m still not a perfect man, but you make me want to be better.”

“That's impressive. My seventy-one-year-old grandfather still hasn't learned that.”

“I can’t undo what happened.”