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She looks at me and her tongue darts to her lips, wetting them. Her eyes look from my lips to my eyes and then back again. Finally, she nods.
“The table.”
I wait for what feels like an eternity. She’s got to make the first move here. For a second, I’m not sure whether she’s going to grab me and kiss me or turn away and sit down at the table. After just a moment, though, common sense wins out, and she looks away and moves toward the table.
It’s probably for the best.
We both take a seat and I wait for a long minute, trying to find the exact words to say.
“Tea?” I finally ask.
“No.”
“Coffee?”
She shakes her head.
“Whiskey?”
“You have whiskey?”
“Do you want some or not?” I ask gruffly, but she nods, and I pour us each a shot. Once we’ve downed our drinks, I motion to her.
“All right, Polly. Enough stalling. What happened to Alexis? And why are you here?”
“She was staying with me.”
“Why you?”
“We were friends forever,” she tells me.
“Best friends, if I remember correctly.”
“Best friends,” she agrees. “When Alexis faked her own death, she went to the last place she thought anyone would look for her: her hometown.”
“That’s where you still were.”
“Yeah.”
“So, she showed up on your doorstep and you just let her in.”
It seems like a convenient story, to be sure.
“Something like that,” she says. “Alexis just wanted to stay with me while she had the baby.”
“Why you?” I ask. “No offense, but it’s not like you’re a doctor.”
“Actually,” Polly swallows and looks at little Brandon. “I am.”
“Is that so?”
She nods.
“She had the baby at my house. I delivered Brandon. I had medical supplies from work and while it was definitely not an ideal situation, I was able to make sure she was safe. I brought in a nurse we could trust, and she helped.”
“Did the nurse talk?”
“No.”
