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“Newt’s taking care of the guests. He’s better at public relations than I am.”
Butch studied her for a minute. Thirty years hadn’t changed her all that much, except that her long blonde hair was now short, white and wavy. She’d kept the same trim figure she’d had the day he met her. If anything, she was a little leaner, her face less full than it had been.
She was still a beautiful woman.
“Do I have something on my nose?” Sunlight and amusement danced in her eyes.
“Can I ask you something?”
Diana blinked. “Okay.”
“Do you ever regret marrying him?” Then he remembered his place. Whatever their history was, he worked for her brother. “Forget I asked. None of my business.”
“No, it’s okay. If anyone can ask that question, it’s you.” She smiled. “A wise person once said marriage was like a pot of boiling water. Once you’re hitched, the heat gets turned off and gradually cools. A few other things cool with it. But in marriages like mine, the water starts off cool and little by little it gets warmer, and you adjust to the changing temperature.”
“And what’s the temperature like now?” He smiled, resisting the urge to push a strand of hair back from her face. “As I recall, you like it hot.”
Her face tightened a little. “The water heater’s a bit temperamental. Occasionally it gets up to where I’m happy with it, but not as often as I’d like.”
“Maybe we should talk about something else.” Discussing Diana’s love life—even in a roundabout way—sent a quiver through his stomach.
She arched her eyebrows. “Why, Butch Buchanan, are you embarrassed? Whatever happened to the boy who—”
He stopped her words with a finger to her lips. “Let’s not go there, okay? Some things are best left in the past.”
Exceptsomethings didn’t stay there. They crept into his dreams, twisted his guts, and were always there, like a stubborn stone in his shoe that he couldn’t remove.
Diana was a pleasant memory.
Scott lurked in a dark fissure of his mind.
Diana chuckled as he removed his finger. “Fair enough.” She gazed at the changing sky. “Can we be serious for a minute?”
That quiver from a moment ago developed into something roiling deep in his innards. “I don’t know. Can we?”
“You asked if I regretted marrying him. The answer is no.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Butch had hoped she’d be happy.
“But…”
Shit, why does there always have to be abut?
“Look, like I said, this is none of my business.”
The sigh that fell from her lips tore at his heart. “Maybe not, but it would help if I can talk about it.” She turned her head toward him. “If you don’t mind listening.”
“I can do that.” He shifted closer, and she leaned against his shoulder.
“Thanks, Butch.” There was a pause. “You were right all those years ago. Newt’s a good man. And hehastreated me just fine. But he’s had to deal with… something, and lately life has been a bit more of a struggle.”
Butch had a feeling he knew where this was heading.Looks like Newt might need a helping hand from some little blue pills.He said nothing, waiting on her.
Another sigh, one that sounded as though it came from someplace deep. “Newt suffers from depression. There are good days and bad days, and the bad ones can get… really bad.”
Oh God.
“I had no idea. I mean, he looks just fine. Well, he has every time I’ve seen him.” He felt as if he was rambling. What the fuck did he expect someone with depression to look like?
