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Ivy pushes her hand into mine, grasping it tightly as she looks around at our small group with wide eyes. I’m shaken, and I don’t exactly know how to proceed with this.
We climb into the car and no one talks; even Ivy isn’t saying a word. Her normal chatter not ringing out from the backseat is a stark reminder of what everyone just witnessed. Simon puts the Mercedes in reverse, and before I know it, we are pulling out onto the main road, headed home. I look down to find one of my hands clenching the door handle and the other white-knuckling the top of the console between us. I actively try to relax my body, feeling the tension start to leave my neck.
I get not liking Boris, but for Simon to react the way he did in public at the mention of his ex, there’s got to be some underlying issue.
Boris knew Jane at some point, and maybe that’s what set Simon off.
Did they date at one time?
I shake my head.
That can’t be right. Weren’t Simon and Jane high school sweethearts?
“What?” Simon’s gruff voice cuts through the silence.
I whip my head to look at him. “What?”
“You were shaking your head,” he says, eyes still on the road in front of him.
“I was?” I reach one hand up to my face, as if I were still shaking it. I feel like I’m in a daze for some reason.
“Out with it,” he says, half on a sigh, as if resigned to whatever thoughts are bumping around in my head.
I’m not sure there are even coherent thoughts to say to him. I don’t know the whole story of him and Jane enough to make an assessment, but I think it’s about time that Simon explains a few things, especially after that display of aggression toward Boris.
“Why don’t we wait until we are home?” I suggest.
Simon falls quiet again. We don’t speak for the rest of the ride. Ivy and I stare out our respective windows, and Simon’s eyes stay on the road.
