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“Me?”
“You. Yep. You. I think Chaddy had his eye on you back then, too. In a different way.” Her eyes detach, and she smiles at some far away thing in her mind. “You don’t know this, but he was … he was really looking forward to this weekend. And he wouldn’t quite tell me why, but he kept saying, ‘I get to see him again,’ over and over, and I kept asking who, but he’d never quite answer me. Then I remember him saying: ‘And I can make it all right again.’ Isn’t that peculiar, to say something like that?”
I sit back in the armchair.
I try to picture him saying those very things, over the course of all the weeks that led up to the reunion.
Was Chad’s eye on me this whole time?
My heart is fluttering with excitement in my chest. At least, I think it’s excitement. I’m not sure. But it makes me feel so light, I could float right out of this room if someone opened a window.
“Yep, there it is.”
I look up at her. “What?”
“That twinkle in your eyes.” She chuckles. “Yep. You do have a thing going on between you two.”
“I—I didn’t say—”
Suddenly there’s a figure in the hallway wearing just a pair of black boxer briefs. He freezes in place when he sees Jo.
She spins around. “Oh, there you are. Good morning! I made your favorite rolls—and also made a new friend.” She throws me a smile, then twists back to him. “Hey, can you get us all the jug of orange juice from the main house? The one in your fridge is just a splash, and I know you love your juice in the morning.”
Chad’s eyes flick back and forth between us.
He has no idea what to make of this scene before him. I watch the terror spill over his face like a bucket of ice.
Then his gaze settles at last on me.
I seem to read his question straight out of them. “Jo makes a killer cinnamon roll,” I tell him softly.
I hope he understands it’s my way of saying: It’s okay. I know who she is. I know you two were married. I’m all caught up.
“Yeah.” He still looks terrified. I don’t think it worked. “Yeah. She does.”
“Y’know what?” Jo rises from the couch. “I’ll go get the juice. You two probably have stuff to talk about. And, um … Lance?” She eyes me, then lowers her voice. “What you and I talked about? About my ‘success’ this weekend? Let’s keep that between us for now.”
“What y’all talked about …?” repeats Chad, squinting at us with suspicion. “What did you two talk about?”
Jo smirks meaningfully at me, then strolls right to the door. She stops there for a second, gives each of us a beaming, hopeful look, then finally sees herself out.
The door shuts lightly.
Chad stares at me from the hallway, breathing slowly, silent and uncertain. He doesn’t move.
I rise off the couch, pop the rest of my roll into my mouth, then take my time chewing it as I cross the room and place myself in front of him. After I at last swallow my bite, I lift my chin to him, squint into his blue eyes, then say: “I like your wife.”
17
Cleaning Out
The summer heat beats through the window, blazing hot.
The plate of cinnamon rolls grows tragically cold.
And in the silence of the guesthouse, Chad and I sit on the couch alone, side by side. Our shoulders touch.
“I was going to tell you,” he says.
“It’s okay, Chad.”
I’ve given it some thought. Well, as much thought as can be given to it in the minute and a half since Jo left the house. I’m sure she’ll be staying in the main house for the time being; she seemed to want to give us as much time and space as possible.
He sighs. “It just seems like I was keeping it from you, or—”
“I don’t feel lied to. Or betrayed. I really don’t. I understand.” I glance down at his muscular thighs and the way they stretch his tight black boxer-briefs. “There’s a lot of territory to cover in the past ten years. We couldn’t have expected to cover it all in the short time I’ve been here.”
“Well, that’s sure a big-ass chunk of territory, don’t you think? A marriage?”
“Short-lived, less-than-a-year-long marriage,” I point out.
He eyes me. “She sure told you a lot.”
“Jo and I are best friends now. You slept through it all.” I turn to face him, tossing an arm over the back of the couch. “It sure does tell me a lot about you, though … this history I’ve learned about you and Jo.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what does it tell you?”
“That you’re loyal. That you’re not who I thought you were, and yet kind of are.” I gaze thoughtfully down at my lap. “And maybe also you’re a little slow on the uptake.”
