Finally, Ryan and Seth leave the office, and I wait another few minutes before slowly pulling the curtain open. I spot them through the window, immersed in conversation with a trucker who has pulled up, so I sneak out the way I came in, retracing my steps until I’m back to my rental car in the adjacent parking lot.
I check my phone and see I have a message from the tire shop letting me know my car is ready, and another that Ryan left fifteen minutes ago telling me that he’s almost done with his meeting and should be on the road soon. While I watch him, I text him back to say I’ll pick up dinner on my way home from work. Less than a minute later he’s pulling his phone from his back pocket. He steps away from the guys he’s talking to, turning his back on them, which means he’s now facing me. I didn’t see him earlier, so I’m surprised at how tired he looks. And a little haggard. His thumbs move over the screen and a few seconds later my phone buzzes in my hand.
Ryan: Today sucked. Can’t wait to see you
I try to ignore what those two sentences make me feel by reminding myself that Ryan will come home tonight, dressed in the suit he left home in this morning, andlieabout why his day sucked. Then I’ll show him the ticket from the tire shop and bitch that they overcharged me.
Even though I expect his lies, does he expect mine?
Chapter 12
Present Day
I take my cup of tea and drop down on the steps that lead to the backyard. It’s one of those days when the sky is so big and so blue that you can’t resist being outside. Ryan flips a lawn mower that looks older than him upside down as if he’s going to perform surgery on it.
“What’s the prognosis?” I ask as he studies it.
He looks up, and there’s a huge streak of grease down the side of his face. “I’m calling it.” He checks his watch. “Time of death: ten forty-five a.m.”
I giggle and he spreads a rag over the machine as if he were covering a dead body. “I guess I’m headed to Home Depot.”
“Want company?” I ask.
And then there’s that smile. “Always,” he answers. “Give me a few minutes to clean up.”
He heads inside and I sit back and stare at the sky. It’s been a few days since I spied on him at the warehouse and the mailbox is still empty. There was another sighting of James and that woman last night. According to social media, they were at a local craft brewery listening to a popular local band. They have hit every hot spot in town.
The hummingbird feeder that hangs from a tree limb next to the deckdraws my attention, and I watch the birds flap their little wings as they dart in and out to get a drink. Every morning, Ryan refills that feeder just like his grandmother probably did.
Mama would have loved it here.
We spent many nights dreaming up the fantasy house we’d one day build. I used to think she just hated the trailer. Or was embarrassed by it. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized Mama wanted more for us than just a bigger roof over our heads. She wanted a different way of life. One where you didn’t worry about having enough grocery money. One where she wouldn’t worry about what would happen to me once she was gone.
“Ready?” Ryan asks from the patio door.
“Yep.” I glance once more at the birds, then hop to my feet, following him back inside to the kitchen door that will lead us to the garage.
As we slowly wander down the aisles of Home Depot, Ryan studies each mower, then checks reviews on his phone before narrowing it down.
“I’m going to look at the plants,” I say after he has stared at the same three mowers for twenty minutes.
“Grab a buggy. We need something for the front porch.” He tears his gaze away from the machines in front of him and looks at me. “Maybe some ferns?”
“The ones that hang?” I ask.
He shrugs, then nods, letting me know it’s my decision because in his mind, it’s my house too. We are the epitome of a domestic couple. All we’re missing is a couple of Starbucks and some hand-holding.
The garden section is an oasis in a sea of tools, lumber, and electrical supplies. I take my time, passing trays of geraniums and petunias and pansies, and think about what I would add to the flower beds in the front yard if it was truly mine to do with as I wished. As if I would be here tosee them in full bloom. Distracted by the prettiest pink hydrangeas I’ve ever seen, my cart clips the side of one coming from the opposite direction.
“Oh, sorry!” And then I nearly freeze when I see it’s James and the woman pretending to be me.
“Oh, hey!” she says. “I think we met at that Derby party!”
I hope the smile that spreads across my face hides the internal eye roll at her words. Nodding to them both, I say, “Yes, of course.”
Could she not know who I really am? That she was sent here as some threat to replace me? Because she’s good. Really good. There’s not a flick of recognition nor a long look that sizes me up as her obvious opponent. There is a chance she’s still in the “waiting for information” stage of her job, but does she not find the unmistakable resemblance between us as jarring as I do? Even though my hair is darker, it’s uncanny.
“Dad usually freshens up the beds for Mom, but he’s out of commission right now, so we thought we’d do it for him since it’s such a pretty day,” James says, nodding to the plants in his cart.
