“It’s not your job to fix Ethan and Shane’s relationship. They need to go to therapy.”
A surprised laugh escapes my throat before I can stop it. Neither of them would ever agree to therapy. Ethan’s a workaholic who barely keeps up with my mom’s crazy social calendar. Fitting another thing into his week is not going to happen. And Shane…I shudder at the thought of even mentioning it to someone like him. He thinks the best way to deal with a problem is to bury it under a thousand pounds of ice.
“Right, sure. I’ll tell you what, Mom. If you can get your husband to agree to therapy, we’ll circle back to this discussion.” At this point, Shane reappears, so I give my mom a quick hug. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I love you,” she says, hugging me tightly.
I pull away gently and head to the door that Shane’s holding open for me.
He’s silent as we walk to the valet stand.
“Ethan asked what’s going on between us.” I keep my voice light and cheerful for him, too. “I told him we’re trying to be friends.”
The corner of Shane’s mouth quirks. When the car arrives, he opens the Porsche’s passenger door, and I slide into the buttery leather seat.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. That resembles the truth, somewhat.” He closes my door and goes around to get in the driver’s side.
As we travel to Back Bay, I’m not sure how to breach the subject we need to talk about. I can tell my mom said something that dredged up the past for him. I want him to know that’s not okay with me.
Watching his hand rest on the gearshift, I’m tempted to put mine over the top of it. But tender touches need to fall into the same category as kisses. Despite how tough it is, I refrain from reaching out.
“Can we talk about it?” I ask.
“About what?”
“Ethan wants to know what's going on with us. I’m sure my mom does, too?”
Shane's head turns slightly, not all the way to look at me, but enough to acknowledge he’s heard me. Then his eyes return to the road in front of him, his expression neutral and unconcerned.
“I don't know how you do that,” I say.
“What's that?”
“Pretend you don't care.”
The corners of his mouth curve up. “Who says I'm pretending?”
I shake my head. “In your place, I would have to know exactly what was said between me and Ethan. Just like I hope you're going to tell me what my mom said to you.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna rehash it. If you wanna know what’s on your mom’s mind, ask her yourself. Leave me out of it.”
“I think she would very much like to leave you out,” I say lightly.
His expression turns grim. “She has a problem with me that has nothing to do with me. She needs to get her head examined.”
“She’s wrong to be as paranoid as she is. I think it’s just that Ethan said that you had trouble controlling your temper after your mom left. You acted out and got in a lot of fights or something? And even when you learned to keep your rage in check, he worried it was always just below the surface. He thinks you never got over your mom leaving.”
His fingers tighten on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. “He told Sheri that, huh?”
“They were planning to get married. Yes, they talked about us.”
“And she said you were perfect, of course.”
“No, I’m sure she didn’t. She probably said I was stubborn and had a hard time making friends. Too tentative around new people.”
“Why would she say that? It’s not true.”
