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And Truman seems to be avoiding me. He’s back to walking Ryle to the door on the rare occasions when he brings him home. He’s polite to me, and he always seems genuinely happy to be with Ryle, but something’s changed between us yet again. Ryle never mentions the dinner thing. He doesn’t talk about that night, and he doesn’t ask if Truman can come again.
Which tells me anything I might have been thinking about me and Truman was all in my head. He’s probably got women at his beck and call in every state, and the last thing he would want is to settle down with someone like me.
I mean, he said as much when I was pregnant. I’m the one who had stars in her eyes this time around and read too much into my ex being nice.
“Hey!” The excitement is real when I see Harper at my door. She’s on crutches, but she’s got a new cast. This one is smaller and maybe a bit more manageable.
“Hi.” She offers me a weak grin.
“How’s it feeling?”
She stares at me for a moment, thinking it over. Usually put together like a million bucks, her hair is disheveled, and she’s wearing a simple t-shirt with sporty shorts. She looks harried and pale, still.
“Little better,” she decides. “But it’s exhausting.”
Behind me, I hear Ryle and Ethan playing down the hall. Ethan spent the night; the boys and I had a little pizza party last night, and we watched Cars. I had them in bed with lights out by nine, but I heard a lot of giggling coming from Ryle’s room even after that.
“Did you drive here?” I lean way out the door to look around, but I don’t see any cars.
“No.” She laughs. “I wish. Keith dropped me off. He’s getting the oil changed in his car. Then he’ll be back for us.”
“Oh.” I nod and step out of the way to give her room to come inside.
“Do you mind if I hang out with you for a while?”
“Of course not.”
I don’t mind, though I’m a little flustered. I don’t spend that much time with anyone in Truman’s family. I’ve probably been around Twain more than any of them, just because Ryle likes to go to the skating rink and drive the go-karts at Wolverine Park.
“Thanks.”
Harper moves with grace into the kitchen, but I’ve done crutches and casts, and I know it’s work. I’m sure her foot still hurts, and I know the crutches make her armpits sore.
“Want something to drink?”
She lifts her chin and stares at me like I’ve offered her a trip to Disneyland. “Please tell me you have wine.”
I do, but I wonder if she should be drinking.
“Should you be drinking, Harper?”
“You sound like my brothers.” She groans. “I’m not on pain meds. I took Tylenol about six hours ago.”
“If they find out I gave you wine, I’ll be in trouble with the whole family.”
“Except me. And I’m the boss,” she reminds me.
That does it. We share a laugh as I grab two wine glasses from the cabinet and take a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the refrigerator.
“Do you want to sit in here? Will you be comfortable?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“The boys ate lunch a while ago,” I announce as I pour the wine. I turn as she’s lowering herself to a chair. Once she’s sitting, I pull another chair up for her to prop her leg on. She mumbles her thanks and takes the wine I offer. I watch her lift the glass and drink deeply.
“Rough times.” I snag my own glass from the counter and sit down across from her.
She snorts and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I hate not being in the office. I don’t know how Twain can stand it.”
