“Nope.” I brace my hands behind myself on the counter and hoist myself up to sit.
Warner shakes his head and opens a drawer, removing a bottle opener. He flips the tops off, swinging the metal opener like a bat and making contact with each top. They hit the tiled backsplash and drop into the sink.
“Did you play baseball?” I take the beer he’s offering.
Warner nods. He plucks the tops from the sink and drops them into the trash, then leans back against the counter. He’s across the small kitchen, about as far away from me as he can get without tucking himself into the fridge, but he may as well be next to me. My body’s awareness of him is embarrassing.
“I played Little League growing up and made the varsity team my freshman year of high school.”
I sip my beer. “Did you ever think about continuing after high school?”
Warner looks down at the bottle, tipping it just slightly like he’s reading the label. “I was offered a scholarship to a school back east.”
“From your tone I get the feeling you didn’t take it?”
Warner glances up, his dark eyelashes thick and partially concealing his gaze. “Anna didn’t get in.”
My breath sticks in my chest. It’s the first time he has really mentioned her, the very first time he has said her name to me. I swallow and say, “That must have been a tough choice.”
Warner’s head moves back and forth slowly, as if he’s stuck in the time period. “It wasn’t, not really. I knew what I wanted more than anything, and it wasn’t baseball.”
I’m not sure what to say, or where to look, so I drink the beer and look up at the ceiling. When I right my head, I find Warner’s gaze on mine.
“How did you meet Tate?” His voice is deep and even, and he looks genuinely curious.
“At an award ceremony. On the red carpet. I was in the middle of an interview, telling the reporter who made my dress, when Tate interrupted.” The memory turns my lips into a wistful smile. “He asked me on a date right then, on camera. It was incredibly romantic. The stuff of movies, but in real life.” My fingers play with the hem of my shorts. “LA is the land of hard work and broken dreams, but some dreams slip through the cracks and come true. And it’s easy to get caught up in the fantasy that true love exists.” I feel my wistful smile dripping, rearranging into a grimace. “That’s what I sell in every movie I make. True love. It’s a product, and it sells well. And for a period of time, even I bought what I was selling. Until, well, you know…” My eyes flicker up, catching on Warner’s face.
He’s listening intently, his eyes squinting as he focuses. “True love, huh? You thought you had it?”
I lift one shoulder, then drop it. “Looking back, I’m inclined to say no. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, and all that.” My heels bump the kitchen drawers softly as I consider my next words. “Tate was probably right for who I was at the beginning of our relationship. But as time went on, I started to feel… stuck. Stifled. Like there was more for me somewhere, out from in front of the camera. Tate’s not like that.” As I say it, I see him in my mind, looking at himself in a store window as he passes. He’s on his way to the gym, and then meeting the mobile tanning person. It’s not that he’s so in love with himself he’d fall in a pool of his own reflection and drown, but Tate understands the industry and doesn’t mind living up to its standards. I mind. I care. I’m sick of it.
Warner chews his bottom lip. It’s as if I can see the thoughts in his head, feel their weight. “What are you thinking about?”
He releases his bottom lip, head turning slowly back and forth. “I’ve been so focused on what Anna did to our family, and blaming her for giving up, but what you just said makes me think.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, still holding a half-full bottle in one hand. “We were right for each other for a long time. But we were young. So young. And when Anna started having trouble”—he glances at me, knowing he’s said more than he meant to—“I haven’t thought of it like you said. Like maybe we were right for the person we were at the time. But things are different now. The experience changed her. Me too, in ways I’m not prepared to examine just yet.”
I nod, my fingers gripping the edge of the countertop, and stay silent. I know so little about Anna, this mythical creature, Warner’s ex-wife. A small part of me is irrationally jealous of her.
A loud, high-pitched sound screams into the air. Warner and I both jump, and he reaches into his pocket and grabs his phone.
“Alarm,” he says apologetically, pressing a button and quelling the insistent noise. He tucks the phone into his pocket and grabs the other half of his sandwich, eating it in three bites. “That is exactly why I set it though. So I wouldn’t forget to go get Charlie. Not that I would forget, but…” His voice trails off.
I can’t help my smile. I slide down off the counter and walk slowly closer, craning my head overdramatically. “Warner, is that… a blush on your cheeks?”
His face scrunches, trying to tell me how wrong I am with just an expression.
“Ohhh yes it is,” I tease. “The big, bad cowboy is blushing.” I back off a little, so he doesn’t get embarrassed, but honestly, it’s nice to have something to lighten the conversation.
Warner dumps the leftover beer in the sink and places the bottle in the trash. Wyatt doesn’t have a separate bin for recycling. He pauses at the back door. His blush has faded to a light pink. “I’ve noticed that sometimes you and I get to talking and time passes a little faster than I’m used to, and I didn’t want Charlie to be waiting for me. That’s all.”
“You’re a good dad, Warner.” I smile and offer my hand for a high-five.
Warner stares at my offered palm as if he’d like to smack it away. “What’s that?”
“A high-five. Ever heard of it?” I use my other hand to complete a demonstration for him.
“No, never,” he responds sarcastically.
“It’s whatfriendsdo, Warner.”
