She shrugged. She’d already been coming to terms with the fact that it probably was.
“We’ve been over this,” he said. “They’re jealous, babe.”
“Maybe. Jealousy may be the root of it, but they still despise me.”
“Some people are not ready for what you’re offering the world.”
It was kind of him to do this—always come to her defense. Did he ever doubt her? Did he ever want her to give up all this? She was afraid to ask.
Her thoughts returned to Sitka.
“She asked me today how we met,” Angeni said.
“Who?” he asked.
“Sitka.”
“Sitka?”
Her skin was hot, from the fire, or from irritation.
“Yes,” she said. “Sitka.”
“Oh. What did you say?”
“That we met at a retreat,” she said. “Not the details, of course. Just that.”
“Okay.” She could hear his thought:Is there more?
“Sometimes I think about that—how we met.”
“Love at first sight,” he said, a bemused expression on his face.
“Doesn’t it bother you, though?”
He looked at her, confusion all over his face. “What?”
“How we met,” she said.
She picked up her own stick, threw it in the fire, watched the flames grab at it and consume it.
“Why would it bother me? It was fate that we were both there at the same time. It’s a great story.”
“Right,” she said. “A story.”
“Babe, I’m sorry, I’m not following.”
“It was just all so ... rushed. We were supposed to be taking our time.”
“Sometimes Spirit surprises you, right?”
“Do you think we would have gotten together if we’d really taken a full year to know each other, no sex to muddy things?”
“Muddythings?”
“I mean, sex complicates it. The hormones, the chemicals.”
“Babe, are you okay?” he asked.
