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I look away, uncomfortable. “I never said that.”
“Like doesn’t last eight years, Sutton. Neither does lust.”
“Just stop calling himhot, forbidden teacher, okay?”
Maude sighs like I’ve created some massive inconvenience. “I’m not calling himTeddy. We need a better code name.”
I sigh and pop a shrimp tempura roll in my mouth, taking my time chewing and washing it down with a gulp of water from the bottle I brought on the plane. “Well, calling him my new guitarist would be accurate.”
More pillows hit the floor as Maude flails to readjust her position. “Backwaythe fuck up! Your new guitarist? What happened to Devon?”
“He was in a motorcycle accident. Drunk and high. He’s lucky it wasn’t worse. But he broke his wrist. I found out while I was back in Brookfield. Suzan showed up, broke the news, and the next thing I knew, he wasoffering to fill in.”
“You never told me he plays guitar.”
“It didn’t seem relevant.” I stuff another roll into my mouth.
“He must be good with his hands.”
I pin Maude with a flat glare as she wags her eyebrows suggestively. “I wouldn’t know.”
“He’s a musician then.”
I know what her sly expression suggests she’s thinking. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve dated plenty of musicians.”
Maude looks like she’d like to argue. Instead, she asks, “Did he ask you about Kyle?”
I shake my head, then admit, “He has a girlfriend.”
“Not for long.” Her prediction sounds confident.
“What doesthatmean?”
“It’s been, what? Eight years since you saw him last?”
I nod.
“And by the sound of it, he jumped at the opportunity to leave his girlfriend and go out on tour with you. What do you thinkthatmeans?”
I eat another roll and lean back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
“How was the rest of the trip?” Maude asks. “Seeing your dad? The service?”
“It was exactly what I’d expected it to be like. My dad hasn’t changed. Brookfield hasn’t changed.”
There’s a pause.
“Has he?”
“I thinkhehas,” I tell the ceiling. “But it didn’t feel likewehave, if that makes any sense.”
“What do you mean?”
I stroke the soft fabric covering the couch. Study the pristine stretch of white plaster above me. “It felt the same. Being around him, it felt the same.”
“Like…”
“Right.” That’s the first word I think of, and it fits. “It feels right.”
