“It was a little bit of a surprise,” I say breezily, because the situation is delicate, and if Thomas hears that I’mdestroyed,he’ll think he has more time to fuck around. “But we’re all good. He’s off doing his thing and I’m doing mine.”
Melissa has never been subtle in her reactions. I can’t see her face, but I can almost hear the solid, surprised blink of her eyes as she processes this. “Well, I’m glad to hear because I can tell you,wewere surprised. We all thought he was about to propose. He’d discussed it with James. And didn’t he sort of reference it on his show?”
He did. There was a whole episode on marriage, where he talked to various experts about how a good marriage can extend your life and interviewed centenarians who were still married and kicking. I remember the sly smile he gave one of the women he interviewed when he said, “I’ll be finding out firsthand pretty soon.”
God. I’vestillgot whiplash from this whole turn of events.
“I think he just wasn’t ready to make that jump,” I tell her. “He still feels too young.”
“Only amanwould decide he was still too young to settle down at the age of forty,” she says with a groan.
I laugh. “Exactly. And I’m not looking to settle down with somebody who isthatuncertain about me. Besides, it probably makes sense for me to get a few more relationships under my belt, you know? I was twenty-seven when we started dating but I’d been so focused on school until then that men weren’t a priority.”
It’s not entirely true. I was just so focused on one man, for my entire life, that other men weren’t a priority. And when he broke my heart, it took a while for me to find my feet. It took the esteemed Thomas Prescott coming into my lab and deciding, pretty much on the spot, that he wanted me and wasn’t leaving until I agreed to date him. A brokenhearted girl needs that kind of confidence in order to try again.
“I guess,” she says, “but I was your age when I got married. You don’t want to wait forever to have kids.”
I’ve been hearing some version of this the entire time I’ve been in grad school. The risk of spending this much time in school is that we won’t even be beginning our careers until we are in our thirties, so children probably need to wait another five years or more. Several women in my program have frozen their eggs. I didn’t think I had to, given Thomas’s two-year thing, but I might have to reconsider it if this plan doesn’t work out.
“Well, anyway, I’m driving down to Key West with a friend and wondered if you guys might be free for dinner.”
“Of course!” she cries. “We’d love to see you. Why don’t you stay here with us?”
I’m sure her house is amazing, and it would be delicious to have her reporting back to everyone in Boston that I shared a bedroom in her home with another man, but I’m not about to take on that level of awkwardness with Elijah…
It’s going to be awkward enough as it is.
“Oh.” I allow a hint of wariness to enter my voice. “Well, actually, I’m traveling down there with a guy I know from home, and I wouldn’t want to put you in a weird position.”
“So is this someone you’reseeing?” she asks eagerly.
As much as I’d love to make it sound as if Elijah and I are hot and heavy, there are lines I can’t cross: calling someone myboyfrienddays after I got dumped just sounds desperate. “He’s someone I used to date,” I tell her. “We’re playing it by ear.”
This sounds like the sort of noncommittal thing you’d say if you were having a hot fling with a guy who might turn into more. I approve.
“I’ll make a reservation for dinner. Where are you staying?”
My chest tightens. I’ll need to pay for a room since I’m the one who insisted upon this excursion. Thomas won’t feel toothreatened by a guy who put us in some hotel that’s basically a cinder-block cell with a semen-covered blanket.
“I don’t know. Elijah did all the planning,” I reply.
“Oooh, his name’s Elijah? I have no idea why that sounds so sexy to me.”
I blow out a breath.Just wait until you meet him.
My fatherand I haven’t had a single meal together since I got back, nor did I expect to. He’s too hungover for breakfast in the morning, and I guess he gets dinner at the bar. If I catch him somewhere between two and three beers—enough to take away the edge off his hangover but not so many that he’s starting to get pissy for no reason—he’s sort of pleasant. He’s even apologetic about the state of the house. But my overall impression is that he wishes I hadn’t come and he can’t wait for me to leave, so I don’t make much of an effort to catch him.
On my final night in St. Samuels, I wait until he’s left for the bar and start to clean the family room.
The couch now has an odor, grime so engrained that no amount of cleaning will help. There’s still a bloodstain from the night, years ago, when Sean came home with a bullet in his shoulder. I suppose all the stains are the same to my dad, but that one particular bloodstain still has the power to knock the breath out of me. I wish he’d just replace the couch.
I’m nearly done when the front door opens and I freeze in place. It’s way too early for my dad to be home...which means it’s probably one of my brothers. I have the incredibly childish desire to hide, but I haven’t moved an inch when Kevin saunters into the room, followed by my father.
“Well, well, well,” he says, “look who’s decided to grace us with her presence. Dad never even mentioned you were home.” He turns toward my father, with narrowed eyes.
“Who am I, her fucking social secretary?” my father scowls, grabbing himself a beer from the kitchen and tossing an envelope on the counter.
Kevin glances between us. “Just seems a little suspect, is all I’m saying.”
