“Sure,” she says, coming up beside me and grabbing a fistful of bags.
She pauses, her arms extended into the back, and stares up at me. There’s a heaviness to her gaze, carrying the weight of something still unknown to me. “I know I’m supposed to show you mine,” she says slowly, a grin pulling up the corners of her mouth. Even though it’s probably the choice of words making her smile, it’s the friendliest she has looked since we were on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. “How about this evening? There’s somewhere I’d like to go.”
“I’m up for it,” I tell her, trying not to show my surprise at her invitation. The bags I’m holding make a crinkling sound.
“Good.” She attempts another smile, but it’s not natural. Her eyes still look burdened. “Meet me back here at seven.”
I nod, then follow her into the house. Louisa isn’t around, so I deposit the grocery bags on the counter and take the two bags that belong to me. Each cabin has a microwave and fridge, which suits me fine. I’m not a cook, but I can microwave with the best of them.
I hover near the island, unsure of what to say. Addison is in the pantry, up on her tiptoes to set something on a high shelf. She tries twice, failing both times.
I come up behind her, wordlessly taking the box and setting it on the shelf.
She glances at me as she sinks back down to flat feet. We lock eyes, and in that instant I watch her make a decision.
She leans in, her lips coming to rest on my cheek for the most fleeting of seconds. If it weren’t for the heat searing my skin, I might not believe it happened at all.
Without a word she steps away, retreating to the counter and pulling more items from the grocery bags.
I do the same, silently leaving the house and walking across the sloping yard back to my cabin.
It was just a kiss on the cheek. Sweet, simple. No big deal.
But my pounding heart tells a different story.
* * *
In an effortnot to appear overeager for whatever it is Addison has planned tonight, I force my strides to slow. I’m taking a circuitous route around the inside perimeter of the property, instead of walking in a straight line across the lawn and to the garage off the side of the house. Two families are out enjoying the early evening light, playing a game of bean bags and chatting. Drawing attention or unwanted questions from them isn’t something I’m interested in.
The truth is, I’m pretty eager to learn what Addison has in mind for our evening. I spent the hours between that kiss on the cheek in the pantry and leaving my cabin to meet her in a state of anxious impatience. I sort of watched a soccer match on my iPad. I kind of took a half-hearted nap. My dad called and I can’t remember much about our conversation, because I was only partially present.
Addison confounds me. She’s a study in contrasts. She’s passionate, that I know for certain. The first time I met her, she read me the riot act. She was incensed about the interest I showed in her while wearing that ring. If I was married, acting like that would make me a scumbag, but Addison’s response was so strong that it makes me wonder.
Whatever it is, it probably has to do with why she left Chicago. Was she married? Did he cheat? It seems likely, given her reaction to the ring on my finger. Maybe he was a liar, too. She wasn’t inclined to believe me when I said I wasn’t married. Not the first time, and not the second time either.
So that’s it then. She was married to someone who cheated on her and lied about it.
I twist my lips and look up to the main house through the trees, wondering which window belongs to Addison’s bedroom.
A thought slams into me. What if Addison was involved with a married guy? Maybe he lied to her about being married.
Either of these scenarios spells heartbreak for Addison.
I shake my head, trying to get rid of my own conjecture. Maybe some episodes of Lennon’s mom’s favorite soap opera are still floating around in my subconscious. Years of passing through the living room at Lennon’s house while the drama played out on TV must’ve lodged itself in my brain.
Addison’s reason for coming to Lonesome might be boring. For her sake, I hope it is.
I round the corner of the garage and stop dead in my tracks. Addison stands on tiptoe, wearing tiny white cut-off jean shorts. She’s bent just slightly at the waist, shoving a cooler into place in the back of the Jeep.
Suddenly it feels hotter than it did a few seconds ago. Maybe I’m overdressed. I look down at my shorts and t-shirt, knowing it’s not my choice of clothing.
Addison is gorgeous. And heartbroken.
So are you. I didn’t come here tomeeta woman. I came here toforgeta woman. It’s a good reminder, even though I don’t particularly want it right now.
“Hey,” I croak, the fight in my brain slipping out into my tone.
Addison whips around. A piece of her long blonde hair sticks to her lips and she pushes it away.
