I can hear people laughing and chatting in Peter and Nettie’s backyard. I can imagine they’ve got trays of sweet and savory food set out for their guests, and plenty of chairs in case anyone else stops by. I can hear the crackle of a fire and can see a hint of the flames through the trees.
Part of me wants to wander over to join in the fun and see if they’ve got some lemon tarts left, but I won’t. I don’t need people the way some do. I’m happy here at my table with Walt asleep under my chair. I’m reveling in eating macaroni straight from the pot. I can open a second beer, or even a third, with no one here to judge me but myself.
I’m exhausted but feel better than I have in years. I finally believe I’m a writer again. I wish I could phone Lauren and share my exciting news, but I obviously can’t do that without admitting the truth. And today is too happy a day to disappoint my best friend. I will do it, but not right now.
I consider calling Liam to tell him he’ll have another book to read soon, but he’s on holiday and I don’t want to disturb him. Besides, it would be a little odd to call my contractor because I have exciting news. What sort of signal would that send to him? Or to me, for that matter…
I’ve been doing my best to forget what happened yesterday morning in the kitchen—the gazing and the chemistry and the wanting to kiss him. Those thoughts and feelings do not belong in my brain, or in any other part of me. I do not gaze longingly at men. I do not speak in a breathy tone or bat my eyelashes or wonder what it would feel like to…do anything I’m not going to do.
I avoid all of that because I’m one of the few enlightened people who know the truth. Hormones and ancient biological urges ruin your life. I know this by heart, and because I do, I’ll distract myself from all of it until a certain rugged, handsome guy finishes doing a little of this and a lot of that around here. Then, the worst will be over, and I can sit by and let time turn us into little more than acquaintances. And when that happens, I’ll be safe again.
For now, though, I’ll use my work to keep my mind occupied. Beatrice can be the one with the lusty longings. She can wander through the meadow, letting her fingertips touch the tall grasses while she imagines what it would feel like if Ian finally kissed her. Yes, that is the smartest way I can handle this whole mess.
A bang thunders across the water and through the air, then the sky is lit up as the first of the fireworks go off. In the distance, I hear ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs,’ and they make me wish Isaac was sitting here next to me, taking it all in. A chill runs through me and I wrap my arms across my chest, not wanting to go inside for my sweater. This is one of those moments when I’d ask him to go, and he’d pretend to be annoyed (or maybe he really would be) but he’d go anyway, returning with my sweater and another drink for each of us.
I’m suddenly bored of the fireworks, so I get up, gather my things, and go inside. Some things just aren’t the same when you’re alone. And those things must be avoided.
Chapter Nineteen
You cannot find peace by avoiding life.
~ Virginia Woolfe
Liam and Olive come by first thing on Wednesday morning. She’s in a narwhal short-and-tee sleep set, and looks like she’s just been on the seven-year-old’s equivalent of a bender, sunglasses and all. She walks in the door, slips her bare feet out of her flip-flops, then makes a beeline for the couch. “Hey Abby, I amwiped. Those boys are insane. I’m so glad they don’t live closer.”
Liam rolls his eyes at me. “She means her cousins. They’re good kids. There’s just a lot of them.”
Walt springs up onto the cushion beside Olive, then bats at her hand with his paw. Olive pets him while she also lifts her head and looks at me. “Believe me, four boys is about four too many.”
I do my best to stifle a laugh while Liam grimaces. “She got that line from my mother.” Raising his voice so it reaches his intended target, he adds, “It wasn’t very nice when Gran said it, and it’s still not nice now.”
Olive holds up one hand. “Can you lower your voice, Liam? I have a splitting headache.”
I laugh silently, my entire body shaking.
Liam, however, is not amused. “It’sDadto you, young lady. And that’ll be enough sass for one lifetime, thank you very much. And get those sunglasses off. You’re not Angelina Jolie.”
“Who’s that? Is she on Insta?” Olive asks, flipping her sunglass clips up.
Liam sighs and shakes his head. “My sister’s eldest is a thirteen-year-old girl. You can see she’s had quite an impact on her cousin.”
“Yes, I can.”
He looks at me with dead eyes and mutters, “Is it September yet?”
“Not quite.”
“All right, I better get to work. Good luck,” he says, before disappearing out to the garage.
As soon as he’s gone, I walk over to the couch. “Did you eat breakfast already or should I make you something?”
“No breakfast for me. I’m intermediate fasting,” she says. “Thanks though, hon.”
“Do you mean intermittent fasting?”
“Right. That’s the one,” she says, looking a little sheepish.
“Hmph. Too bad you’re fasting because I was going to make some special Independence Day pancakes.”
