“Right,” she said. “That’s nice.”
“We’re just going for a walk.”
Cherry looked around. “It’s a beautiful night.”
“Do you want to come with?”
“Um...” She looked down at her wide-legged pants. She was wearing ballet flats. “Sure. I’ve been sitting at a desk all day.” Stevie was sniffing at Cherry, trying to get her attention. Cherry petted her. “You’ve taken over my only source of exercise.”
Tom clicked his tongue at Stevie, and she followed him down onto the sidewalk. “You aren’t going to yoga in the health center?”
“Nah.” Cherry walked with him, on the other side of Stevie. “There’s a new teacher who gets on my nerves—we’re constantly standing up as soon as we’ve sat down, and she wears those Kim Kardashian clothes that are just tan underwear.”
“Your bike’s in the garage, too, if you want it. I dug it out and filled up the tires.”
“Thanks,” Cherry said. “I’ll get right on that.”
The last time they’d gone bike-riding together, Cherry had endedup lying in the grass, saying she felt like she was being“jackhammered in the crotch.”Tom had to walk both of their bikes back to the car.
“How’s the garage going?” she asked.
“Good. I took a bunch of stuff to Goodwill last week. And I set some speakers aside for Henry.” Henry was one of Cherry’s nephews. “I stuck a note on them.”
“I’ll tell Hope.” They’d stopped to let Stevie sniff at some bushes. “You guys are late with your walk today.”
Tom tugged Stevie back from a patch of mud. “This is our second walk.”
“Lucky Stevie.”
“They’re more for me than her,” he said. “They clear my head.”
Cherry looked up at him. She realized that at this moment—likerightnow, this very second—she didn’t feel angry with him. Maybe for the first time in two years. Cherry felt light today. Hopeful. Decidedly un-doomed. “How is your head?” she asked.
Tom lowered an eyebrow, like that was a surprising question. Fair. It had been at least a year since Cherry had asked how he was doing—instead of some version of “What the hell are you thinking?”
“My head’s okay,” he said.
Cherry smiled a little. Sincerely. “Good.”
On Tuesday, Cherry went to Russ’s house after work. They made dinner together. Cobb salad. And made love, twice.
On Wednesday when Cherry got home, the garage door was open. She walked up the driveway to peek in.
Tom had cleared out one half of the garage, and he was working in the corner. There were new shelves. Stevie was asleep at his feet.
“Hi there!” she called out.
Stevie lifted her head. Tom looked up, startled. “Hi.”
“It looks great in here,” Cherry said. The garage had been packed with random junk for years; there’d never been room for their cars.
“Thanks.”
Stevie had run up to Cherry and was rubbing her face on Cherry’s pin-striped suit pants.
Tom clicked his tongue. “Hey. Get off. You’re messing up her nice clothes.”
“I’m used to it.” Cherry patted Stevie’s flank. The dog had already turned back to Tom.
