“Fine. But that’s not a reason to sneak around.” I pause. “Wait, that’s exactly what I did with the McCoys.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“You were being reckless. I’m being... careful.”
“You’re being happy,” I correct. “Which is weird and uncomfortable for everyone, but probably a good thing.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “She makes me laugh,” he says.
And I feel an ache in my heart. Happiness for him. Grief for myself.
I clear my throat to cover up the lump in it. “Mrs. Delaney makes you laugh. Mrs. ‘Did you hear about the Thompson girl’s latest disaster’ Delaney? Are we talking about the same person?”
“She’s different when we’re alone. She’s... kind. Funny. Smart. She listens. Really listens, doesn’t just wait for gossip material.”
Could have fooled me.
“And the fact that she knows everyone’s secrets?”
“Like you and the McCoy boys? You’re not as subtle as you think either. Also, Boone posted a photo on Instagram where your bra was visible in the background.”
“That idiot?—”
“Language.”
“That was my good bra!”
“I don’t want to know about your bras.”
We sit in awkward silence, two Thompsons who’ve been sneaking around with people we shouldn’t be.
“She makes me happy,” he finally says. “For the first time since your mother died, I’m actually happy.”
“Then stop hiding it.”
“Says the girl who broke things off with three men rather than go public.”
“That’s diff… okay, we’re the same. Whatever. We’re chickenshits.”
“We’re Thompsons. We’re not chickenshits. We’re... strategically cautious.”
“That’s fancy talk for chickenshits.”
He’s out the door before I can say more, his truck heading toward “town.” Which is code for Mrs. Delaney’s house.
Rita appears from wherever she hides when she’s digesting things she shouldn’t have eaten. She’s got something in her mouth that looks fabric-based.
“What now?”
She drops it at my feet. It’s one of Dad’s good socks. The dress socks he saves for funerals and now, dates.
“You’re sabotaging his romance? That’s low, even for you.”
Rita trots over to where Dad left his newspaper and grabs the Style section in her teeth. She prances off with it, probably to eat the wedding announcements because she’s got a sick sense of humor.
“Hey! I wasn’t done not reading that!”
