Another minute passes before curiosity carries me after them. I’ve never seen this part of the house before. There’s a long hallway at the landing with three doors spread out. The farthest one on the right is cracked, showcasing floral wallpaper and a naked toddler fleeing large hands that are threatening to tickle her. I don’t know how long Quinn’s bedtime routine lasts, so I hustle toward the door he told me to go in.
I flick on the light and am met with rich brown walls and a faded bedspread. The whole room is filled with warmth, but that’s not what has me closing my eyes.It smells like him—a mix of expensive cologne and Tide laundry detergent.
This is Rhett’s room.
I run a hand over an old dresser, stopping at a picture of a decade-younger version of the guy I’ve been getting to know, his sister I’m now working with, and another boy in a cap and gown. I’m gathering he’s a close friend with the way Rhett’s arm drapes over his shoulder.
Another shiver wracks my body. One that’s difficult to ignore without the distraction of Rhett and Quinn this time. I give in to the dry clothes I was promised, stripping everything offbut my underwear.
There are two pairs of gray sweats in the bottom drawer of the dresser. I grab one of them and shimmy them up my legs. It requires cinching the drawstring as tight as it will go to keep them from falling back down to my ankles. Basic tees line the top drawer, and I opt for the black one, hoping like hell it hides the fact that I’m now braless and still freezing.
By the time I slip into the hall, the small sliver of Quinn’s room is black. My eyes adjust to the darkness as he tucks the covers up to her chin.
I hear him whisper good night and watch her latch onto the sides of his face with two tiny palms. She pulls him in close and kisses him on the forehead, right above the bridge of his nose and between his eyebrows. I can only make out shadows from here, but I picture his whole face softening like it did on the patio. I’m still staring when he leaves her room and cracks the door.
“Thank you for the clothes,” I whisper. That’s the real reason I stayed lingering in the hallway. Just to tell him that.Definitely notfor another chance to talk to him before I have to go home.
He’s still soaked, the wet strands of hair sending streaks of water down his cheeks. Without thinking, I reach up and swipe one of them away.
His eyes drop from my face, which is now heating as he takes in his baggy clothes on my frame. “Would you like a drink?”
A drink is exactly what I need with the vigorous cardiac workout my heart is putting me through. Water would probably be best, but who’s to say alcohol won’t cool my pounding pulse. I’m technically off the clock since Quinn’s asleep, so I guess he wouldn’t judge me for accepting. He’s the one offering.
“Sure.”
“I’ll just be a minute,”he says.
By the time he meets me downstairs, he’s wearing the other pair of gray sweatpants I saw in his drawer.
“Thank you… for tonight,” he gets out. “She’s rarely affectionate with me.” It’s the most unsteady in his words I’ve ever heard him. A stark contrast to the calculated commentary he usually hits me with. The astonished look in his eyes also suggests he believes I’m the reason for the affectionate gesture he received from Quinn tonight. I know that’s not true.
“She’s really great,” I say, hoping it conveys how much I liked my time with her. How much I like ithere.
The living room light is off, the kitchen one spilling in to compensate. Upstairs I could only make out shadows, but down here, I notice details. The faint crease between his brows. The subtle droop of his mouth. The slight downcast of his eyes.
“She always asks for her mom when I put her to bed. She didn’t tonight. Do you think that means she’s forgetting her?”
It’s hard to look at him when I don’t know how to answer that heartbreaking question. Sheislittle. How long does a child actually remember someone who isn’t in their life every day?
“Maybe she didn’t feel like she needed her mom tonight. She has you.”
He offers me a smile. It’s reluctant, but it’s there.
He tucks his hands in his pockets. “Listen… about the principal…”
We’re standing at the foot of the stairs. We still haven’t even made it into the kitchen for that drink, and I could care less. I’d be okay if we spent the rest of the night right here in this magical spot where he’s opening up to me.
“Brian,” I fill in for him.
“I would have never asked you to do the play if I’d known.” His eyes are pleading for forgiveness when they don’t need to be. I’ve managed to dodge Brian every day I’ve dropped Henry off atschool. I wasn’t naive enough to believe that would last forever. I’m bound to run into him a time or two, and I need to get used to being around him without it being… weird. After twelve years of living and sleeping in the same bed with someone, all to have it stop overnight, I don’t know any other adjective to describe it.
“I know.” I drop my head to stare at his carpet as I expel a puff of air from my nose. “It feels unfair that you know something so deeply personal about me.”
Besides the comment he made about Quinn’s mom and the fact that he’s living in his childhood home, all the personal things I know about him I’ve heard from the news.
When he turns and walks away, I realize why. Rhett holds everything close to his chest. He’s a private man despite a very public profession. It’s hard not to wonder if there are parts of himself he’s hiding. And I thought we were opening up there for a minute, but now I’m afraid I crossed a line—offended him without intending to.
“I promised you a drink,” he says, and I relax. Some people use alcohol to open up. Maybe that’s what this is.
