“It’s always going to be okay,” she said to Tom. “This is your story.”
He set the paint can aside and pulled Cherry up to hug him. She was still holding her brush. She got baby blue paint in his hair.
Chapter 30
Russ Sutton was always campaigning, even though he wasn’t running for office.
Russ couldn’t just go out to dinner. He had to go somewhere where he had a connection or where he wanted to make a connection. There was always some business for the mayor’s office, or business for one of the boards Russ was on. Russ knew everyone, everywhere. And he needed everyone to like him.
Cherry was surprised how little this bothered her.
There was something very sincere about Russ. When they were together, Cherry felt like he really wanted to be with her. And when he stopped to talk to someone—or to press some agenda—that seemed sincere, too.
Russ took her to a spaghetti dinner in a Catholic rec center across town and introduced her to an entire neighborhood. Cherry sat across from him at a long cafeteria table eating meatballs and hot-dog-bun garlic bread, and never once felt like he’d forgotten about her as he worked the room.
Going out with Russ meant meetingdozensof new people and makingso muchsmall talk. That was okay. Cherry was good at small talk.
Going out with Russ also meant meeting single women who clearly had their sights set on him—and who were frankly shocked to see him with someone like Cherry. That was okay, too. Russ was very obviouslywithher.
He stood with his arm around her. He held her hand. He introduced her as “my friend Cherry,” but he made it clear that she was his date.
It made Cherry feel seen. And...prized. Like Russ had chosen her, and then he’d chosen to introduce her to the entire city. And she knew she was getting ahead of herself, because she still hadn’t met his kid or his ex-wife or his parents or any of his siblings—but still, it felt good.
Only one person at the spaghetti dinner connected Cherry toThursday. “Cherry...” he said. “Are you the Omaha Cherry who’s married to theThursdayartist?”
“Yes,” she said, and then, “I was.”
The guy was embarrassed. “Oh. Sorry. I’m a fan.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m a fan, too.”
That was two lies:
First, Cherry was very legallystillmarried to Tom, and second, Cherry hadn’t intentionally read aThursdaycomic in years.
But it was the first time she’d told someone outside her inner circle that she wasn’t with Tom anymore. (Well, technically the first person she’d told wasRuss.) Cherry wondered if this guy was the sort of fan who would tell the internet that she and Tom had broken up. Probably not. Most of the people on r/tomvalentine were women.
Someonewould tell the internet. Eventually.
There was some relief to be had there. Cherry was eager to be yesterday’s news.
After they left, Russ told her that they’d gone to the spaghetti dinner because he was trying to press a city councilman on a vote. It worked, he said, and Cherry got most of the credit, because the city councilman’s wife had loved her.
“Which one was the city councilman’s wife?”
“The little Polish lady with the jewelry.”
“She had sixty-four charms on three Pandora bracelets,” Cherry said. “She isliving.”
“She loved you,” Russ said. “She said you’re much prettier than my old girlfriend and have better energy.”
“Who’s your old girlfriend?”
“A homely girl with bad vibes, apparently.”
Russ was so good at networking and making the most of every interaction that Cherry asked him if he was dating her because he needed something from Western Alliance. “I’m dating you because you’re sexy,” he said, “but I don’t mind having a friend at North America’s largest railroad.”
“Myoldgirlfriend,” he’d said. As if Cherry was his new one.
