"Is that all it takes? I never knew." He pulled out his notebook and flipped through the pages for a minute. "Seems like we should be talking about that codependent relationship."
I groaned. "Haven't we done enough of that?"
"I would agree if you didn't make it sound like a present-tense type of situation. Thought you quit that, Peach."
"One does not simply walk away from a career after fifteen-plus years in it. Even if they recently realized they hated parts of their job and maybe-probably engaged in big-time self-sabotage. One does not simply toss all that in the shredder."
He chuckled, still paging through his book. "Then what's your plan?"
"I wouldn't call it anything as sophisticated as a plan but I have been talking with a few folks about some consulting projects. Nothing solid. Optics are so important right now. No one wants to risk it at this point."
"And if that doesn't pan out? What then?"
"I could always write a tell-all book, which would then require me to become a commentator because you don't spill all the secrets and cross your fingers, hoping to get a chief of staff gig the next day. That kind of reincarnation takes ages."
"Would that make you happy? The commentator thing?"
"Probably not, which is why I'd sell Midge's house before I resorted to that."
He glanced up from the book. "And then what?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. This is a seat-of-the-pants season for me and it's more stressful than I can possibly quantify. That's why I need something else to obsess over, something less tragic and preventable. So, tell me why you're still single."
"You should've prefaced it with that," he replied, peering up at the tree.
I paced between the trees for a minute. "It seems like you prefer being alone."
"That's true," he said. "You know I'm a triplet. I grew up flanked by my brother and sister at all times. Never alone, never. When you're that close to people, you drop into your own world, and that's great because you always have a friend, always have a playmate. But it's also tough because you never learn how to think without another set of voices in your head or how to function outside that separate world. It's true what they say about multiples having a sixth sense with each other but I think it's mostly a result of spending every living minute together."
"I thought we were talking about how you liked being alone."
"We were." He shoved the notebook in his back pocket and pulled out a long belt-looking-thing. He looped it around the trunk and then secured it to his waist and—holy shit—climbed right up the tree.
"A little warning the next time you do that, okay? I need to prepare myself."
It was downright hypnotizing to watch the simultaneous flex of his thighs and shoulders, the way his backside tightened in those jeans, how he made this look like the most natural thing in the world.
"Move over to the left," he called as he unsheathed the knife attached to his belt. "Stay there. Don't move." A dead branch dropped to the forest floor. "One more coming."
I moved another step to the side and watched as Linden sent a second branch to the floor. He studied the treetop for a moment, shaking several other branches as he shimmied along the trunk.
I was reminded of meeting Linden, that first day when I'd arrived here from D.C., when he was out in the front yard. I never would've guessed that burly bear of a man could climb trees like a grizzly. I never would've guessed I'd invent reasons to spend time with him or look forward to our walks in the woods. I never would've guessed it would be my rude, mansplainy neighbor, the one who said not two hours ago that I couldn't be trusted with paint, to make me feel like I belonged here. Like I belonged with him.
"Coming down," he called.
He walked backward down the trunk, the belt sliding with him along the bark. It looked remarkably easy, the same way home renovation shows—which never talked about separate paint for interior and exterior—made everything seem remarkably easy. Which meant it was far more difficult than I could comprehend.
"So, you just do that?" I asked when he was back on the ground. "You just…climb the tree."
"I just climb the tree."
I motioned to the belt as he pulled it from around the tree. "Simple as that."
He nodded. "I can't explain it any other way."
I glanced at the tree and the spot where he'd removed the branches. It was really high up there. "You didn't even wear a helmet or anything."
He slapped the trunk. "This old girl? No need. Just a quick touch-up, no reason to pull out all the equipment."
