“I…uh…I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”
She nodded, twisted the cap back onto her lip gloss and dropped it into her purse.
“I would still like to come. If you don’t mind some unpleasant company.”
She swallowed a laugh. “I don’t know.” She slung her purse over one shoulder. “If you’re going to be an asshole I’d rather do my shopping alone.”
“I’ll behave.” The corners of his mouth tipped up.
“Okay, then. How about lunch?”
“Could we go to Darby’s?” She smiled at the hopeful note in his voice. “I get cravings for their bacon mushroom cheeseburger.”
She laughed. “Then you should have one. Come on, let’s go.”
They sat on the outdoor deck at Darby’s in the shade of a huge fig tree, enjoying the quiet neighborhood with only a faint hum of traffic in the background. Krissa plunged her straw into the glass of iced tea she’d ordered. “Lauren liked it here, too.” She extended her bare legs under the table. Her foot bumped Nate’s, his legs much longer than hers. “Sorry.” She shifted her feet in her flip flops away.
He said nothing.
“You must miss her.”
“I don’t want to talk about Lauren.”
She blinked. She, too, wore sunglasses now. “Why not?”
Was it still that painful for him to talk about her? It had been over two years since she’d died. Surely he should be moving on by now.
“I just don’t want to.” His voice was hard.
“But it would be good for you…if you can’t get past it, talking about her might help. You must miss her.”
“No. I don’t.”
Astonished, she stared at him, her glass of tea half way from the table to her lips. “You don’t miss her?”
He shook his head, gave the menu his attention. Then he snapped it shut. “Don’t know why I’m even looking at that. I already know what I want.”
“Bacon mushroom cheeseburger.”
“You got it.”
Krissa looked at her own menu, decided on a spinach salad and they ordered.
“Nate. What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
He knew exactly what she meant. The lack of eye contact was driving her crazy, but she felt his understanding. “Lauren. Why don’t you miss her? Why don’t you want to talk about her?”
He sighed. “It’s a crappy story, Krissa. You liked Lauren. I don’t want to spoil your memories of her.”
“Well, you definitely can’t say something like that and then not tell me what you mean.” She sipped her drink. “What would spoil my memories of her?”
Nate turned his face and looked across the street at the small used book store. “Just drop it, okay.”
“No.”
It wasn’t like her to push for an uncomfortable conversation. She normally tried to avoid that. But she had to know. That morning when they’d been talking about Lauren, something had made her feel funny, something Nate had said. And his reaction didn’t seem normal to her. He should be at the point where he wanted to talk about his wife—sharing happy memories. But clearly he wasn’t.
