“Can I just say one more thing and then you can be on your way?” She doesn’t wait for me to say yes. Maybe she’s afraid I’ll deny her. “Warner’s picking himself up from the hardest experience of his life, and it’s my fault. He’s not a man to stay down long, and he also doesn’t give up what he wants. You know that family crest in the living room at his parents’ house? Legacy, Loyalty, Honor?”
I nod.
“That’s embedded in Warner’s soul. If he’s in love with you, he’ll never stop being loyal to you. You met at the same time his life was imploding. He just needs a little time to get back on his feet and recalibrate.”
I’m mostly listening to Anna, but a small part of me is trying to understand why she’s being so nice about all this. So I ask, because why the hell not? It’s likely I’ll never see her again.
“My kids deserve a father who’s happy. I want Warner to have a nice life, even if we don’t share it. And even though I barely know you, I know what you did for my daughter. Peyton told me how you helped her when she got her period, and I’m very thankful she had someone that day.”
I brush off the compliment. “It was nothing.”
Anna shakes her head. “It was something.” Her gas pump makes the same sound mine did a few minutes ago. She steps back toward the pump. “And I hope you and Warner eventually figure things out. Drive safe back to LA.”
I climb into my car and lean out the open window. “It was nice to meet you, Anna.”
“Same to you, Tenley.”
With a wave, I’m off. Down the blacktop road, I go. A long desert highway stretches out before me. On my way out to Sierra Grande, I’d been thinking about getting away from Tate and looking forward to this being my last film for the foreseeable future.
Now here I am, leaving this small town. This town that holds the man who stole my heart, the thief who snuck in under the cover of goodness.
A great, choking sob attacks my chest. It would be so easy to turn around, to drive back to the HCC, to point my headlights into Warner’s front window. I’d get what I need, and almost everything I want.
But not quite.
34
Warner
I’ve gonea month without Tenley, and here’s what I’ve learned: everything is useless. I’ve worked so hard to exist without her, and it’s all for nothing. I go through the motions. I make meals. I sit on the sidelines at soccer games. I doubt anybody could be more present and also completely absent.
How can I be a thirty-something man and still wind up someone else’s cautionary tale?
The one bright spot in all this? Next week is my second interview at the Verde Valley Community College.
I thought Wes’s eyes were going to come out of his head when I told him I needed time off for the interview. To be fair, the guy is doing the best he can, but he needs me. The ranch is too big for one person to run, even with the team he has.
My mom has called me into the homestead for a sandwich. I’m well aware of how spoiled I am to find a turkey and cheese with a pickle waiting for me when I get to the kitchen table. She stares at me from the end of the table. She’s not sitting, and there isn’t food for her, so it’s uncomfortable. I get the feeling I’ve been lured into a trap.
“What’s up?” I ask, picking up the sandwich.
She calls for Jessie but keeps her eyes on me. “Warner,” I say, pointing back at myself, as if she needs to be reminded who I am.
Her lip twitches in a smile. Jessie flies into the room, her hair around her face and her eyes wild. Unlike my mom, she sits right beside me. She leans forward on her forearms, her fingers drumming the table.
“What?” My tone is sharp. These two women need to start talking.
Jessie pushes her phone toward me. It was already open to what she wants me to see, meaning this was planned. I’ve been ambushed.
“Go on,” she urges, lowering her chin to indicate the phone.
I sigh in irritation around my bite. This feels juvenile. If Wes was the one telling me something, I’d have known it three minutes ago. None of this song and dance.
Despite the bold font, the title of the article isn’t what I read first. It’s Tenley’s expression in the accompanying photo. Her eyebrows are pulled together, her shoulders hunched. She looks protective and irritated. Then I read the headline. My chewing pauses, the turkey and cheese turns to mush.
Tenley Roberts Expecting. That’s what the headline screams. And below that, in smaller font still larger than the rest of the piece, it says, Seen Leaving The OB-GYN And Buying A Crib.
I spit my bite into my napkin. Everything drops away. The homestead, my seat, my family. I feel like I’m floating.
