Page 24 of The Fire Line

“I’m beginning to understand that that rule was specifically designed to eliminate my possible excuses.”

“Dance with me.”

It was her birthday. Jay took her hand.

She turned out to possess far more energy than anyone who had spent the previous week managing two weddings should reasonably have retained. Jay knew how to dance—not formally, but well enough after years of family parties, New York bars, weddings, and production events that he didn’t have to think about his feet.

Della laughed when he spun her, and Jay laughed with her.

For a few minutes, he stopped observing the room as material. There was only the music, warm air through the open barn doors, two beers on too little food, and Della looking delighted with herself.

When the song ended, she patted his cheek. “You’re wasted behind the camera.”

Someone else claimed her before Jay could answer.

He stepped away, pushing his hair back from his face, and felt the unmistakable prickle of being watched.

Harris stood near the open doors with a beer in one hand, partly turned toward Walt. His hat sat low over his eyes, sleeves shoved up his forearms, the last of the evening light catching one side of his face.

Harris Shaw was a goddamn smokeshow.

There. An objective production note.

By the time Jay looked directly at him, Harris’s attention was on his father. Maybe it had been there all along. Or maybe two beers had upgraded ordinary spatial awareness to sexual tension.

Excellent.

The music slowed after dark. Claire arrived with several neighbors, greeted Della with a long hug, kissed Elise’s cheek, and accepted wine from Walt without needing to ask where anything was. She spoke to Harris briefly near the food tables.

Nothing about them looked strained. Nothing looked romantic either. Only the old familiarity Jay had seen in the barn, a shared language neither needed translated.

Jay went to refill his beer. This placed him close enough to hear Walt say, “Still don’t see why you two can’t get over it and sort yourselves out.”

Harris’s gaze moved briefly toward Claire. “There’s nothing to sort out.”

“Twelve years is a hell of a thing to throw away.”

“We didn’t throw it away.”

“No? Could’ve fooled me.”

“Dad,” Elise said quietly.

Walt looked at her. “What? Everybody liked her. They were good together.”

Harris’s jaw shifted. “Claire wanted a different life.”

“And you let her walk because talkin’ about it would’ve been harder.”

Jay looked down at his bottle. He had come close enough to hear by accident. Remaining there had become a choice, though leaving now might draw more attention than staying still.

“You don’t know what happened between us,” Harris said.

“I know neither one of you looks happier.”

“That doesn’t mean we belong married.”

Walt appeared to consider the distinction without accepting it. “Fine. Then find somebody else. Two years is long enough to get used to livin’ alone.”