My finger hovered over the phone. Kevin had issues with Edward. He had taken a step back after Town Meeting, seeming to accept that Edward’s feelings for me were genuine. Still, I sensed a lingering element of something that was either protectiveness or jealousy.
Whichever, I couldn’t lie, not to Kevin. So I typed,Edward’s driving. He’s being good.
I’d have driven,Kevin texted back, and in the midst of my turmoil, I felt a sweet warmth.
I know. Love you for that.
You okay seeing your mom?
No. But I have to. There’s no one else.
That’s not why you have to.
I smiled at the guy’s insight before typing,I know that, too. I love you, Kev.
He sent two lines of kiss-blowing emojis. Buoyed by those, I dared check out who else had sent texts sincePeoplehad arrived. There were the usual suspects—Alex, my book group, and—oh yes—Michael Shanahan from last night with a simpleCareful, Maggiemessage. But there was nothing from Grace.
I tried calling. When she didn’t pick up, I left a message with the basics, so that she wouldn’t look for me at work. The message had to be shocking, first mention of my mother, then mention of her fall. Either should have been enough for Grace to immediately call back. When she didn’t, I texted,Are you there?Then I set the phone in my lap and watched the road, but my mind was racing from Grace to Michael to Mom and back.Breathe in, breathe out, repeat.
“Music?” Edward asked.
“No—yes—uh, maybe.” I breathed in. “What do you have?”
He passed me his phone. I scrolled through his stations. Aside from a few additions, the list was the same as when we were married. As was mine, I thought, and the absurdity of the situation struck me. My ex-husband driving me to my mother’s house?
In some regards, it made perfect sense. Edward knew the situation and the players. He was rational and calm. I trusted him to get me there and back intact.
In other regards, though, it made no sense at all—no sense that the call had come to his phone while he was in my bed, where he had spent the night, with me. It made no sense that he had known to come to me when I was feeling so low, no sense that we still had such a strong emotional connection, no sense that the sex was so good. Our lovemaking had died soon after Lily did. But here it was, reborn hotter than ever.
I studied him without fully turning my head. He wore a black turtleneck, jeans, and his barn jacket, so only his head and hands were bare. His profile was strong, but his hands were what fascinated me now—fingers that were solid and agile, that had touched every inch of my body last night and brought so much pleasure. That I should be so turned on by Edward in spite of all the grief we’d shared made no senseat all.
And yet, sitting here with him in a mix of new car, virile man, and misty rain smells, hearing theshushof the tires speeding over the road and a crescendo ofshushingwhen we passed or were passed, it felt like the most natural thing of all.
I didn’t need music. Between sounds and thoughts, there was plenty of noise. Handing back the phone, I focused on the road. Visibility wasn’t great; we drove in and out of ground fog. The wipers kicked in every ten seconds or so, picked up when the mist became a drizzle, then slowed again.
My phone lit. Shanahan.Seriously?he wrote.
With my emotions in high gear, his doubt set me off.Would I do this for kicks? My mother hasn’t talked to me in four years. The call came from her assistant.I punched Send before fully analyzing the wisdom of it, but was angry enough to add,Trust me, I don’t want to be going, but she’s my mother. I sent that one off with a huff and muttered, “Like having to ask permission helps…”
“Only a few months left,” Edward said and gave my hand a squeeze. “Warm enough?” He stretched a long arm toward the middle console anyway, able fingers setting my heated seat to high. I hadn’t thought to ask, but the heat was nice.
How long will you be there?Shanahan texted.
It was an interesting question.I haven’t thought that far. Just the day, I think.Neither of us had overnight bags.I have to see how she is.
Let me know.
Returning the phone to my lap, I refocused on the road. We had joined I-89 heading toward White River Junction. It was a route I had driven many times, mostly to see Shanahan, which was part of my punishment and, therefore, welcome in its way. Only now, here, in Edward’s car, with Edward and an illusion of normalcy, did I find having a probation officer humiliating.
I closed my eyes, pictured a mountain stream, inhaled and exhaled to the sound of trickling water.
“You good?” Edward’s deep voice asked.
My eyes popped open just as his darted me a quick glance. I darted one back that held doubt.
“You’re doing the right thing,” he said.
“Tell that to my heart. What if she refuses to see me?”
