Page 93 of A Matter of Time

He looked at me and saw where I was pointing, up to the new teacups I had bought at the farmers’ market earlier in the day. They were hand-painted, the kind you used at a Chinese restaurant, with no handles, except they were larger. When he didn’t move, I asked again.

“Please.”

He rolled his eyes but got the cups down.

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

I looked at his sister and smiled. “Jory.”

She nodded. “Jory. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

I smiled at her and motioned Kurt over. “Take a seat.”

He gave Sam a tentative look before he moved to the counter and took a seat on one of the barstools. We were all silent, and when the kettle whistled, Jen’s whole body jerked like she was startled. I took her hand briefly before I filled the teapot with the boiling water. I rattled on about how everyone liked something different. I myself preferred oolong this late at night, but had gone with chamomile since it was universally liked. Both Jen and Kurt nodded.

“What do you like in it?” I asked her.

After several moments of her just staring at me, she asked me for the creamer, Kurt the cinnamon. I poured mine and added nothing. Sam just scowled at me when I asked him if he wanted any.

“You’re the guy my mom took to the bakery yesterday,” Jen said suddenly, really studying my face.

“Yes.”

“She had a great time.”

“I did too.”

She nodded slowly, and I reached out for her hand again. “Are you okay?”

Another nod as her eyes filled with tears.

I came around the counter quickly, and she reached for me as I opened my arms.

“For crissakes, J,” Sam groaned. “Can’t they just get the fuck out?”

“I could—” Kurt began.

“Never mind him,” I soothed Kurt, clutching Jen tight as she buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed. “You guys need to talk to somebody. Carrying this around has gotta be just awful.”

Jen pulled back to look up into my face. “How do you know?”

“’Cause keeping secrets is a killer, and guilt is even worse.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So tell me,” I urged, my voice soft as I wiped away her tears, my fingers featherlight on her cheeks.

Her smile through the tears was breathtaking. “Okay.”

Jennifer Levine was madly in love with Kurt Pratt, and he with her. They had known each other for seventeen years but had just discovered that their friendly banter and constant chemistry was rooted in more than the fact that she was the wife of Kurt’s best friend. They were more than simply extensions of Mitch Levine; they were two people crazy about each other. Between them they had seven kids and spouses who loved them. They had decided to just leave it as a fling so that no one got hurt, but it had quickly taken a turn from passion to affection to love.

“People are gonna be hurt, Jen,” Sam assured her as he paced back and forth through the living room. “Mitch is gonna be crushed, and I know Rita,” he told Kurt. “Man, she’ll lose her mind.”

Kurt nodded, sipping the tea I had put in front of him. “I know.”

“What’s your plan?” he asked his sister, his attention back on her.

“I have no idea.” She laughed hollowly. “This was the plan. Every Saturday night, because I know you go out, but…” She looked at Kurt. “I find myself living for this day, waiting all week. I’m useless except for this.”