“And?”
“I mean, it’s Stephen King. Some of his books are better than others, but there’s not a bad one in the bunch.”
“I readChildren of the Cornwhen I was way too young,” Jenna said with a laugh. “I had nightmares for days. Can you grab the strainer out of that lower cupboard?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s not for kids.” Sawyer found the strainer and put it in the sink. Jenna poured the spaghetti in and let it drain. “So, you weren’t always a romance nut.”
“No, I pretty much was. My dad was a Stephen King fanatic, and I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. I think the nightmares were karma for me stealing one of his books without asking.”
“You don’t talk about your family much,” Sawyer said. Her voice was curious, but softly so.
“I don’t. No.” For most people, that put an end to this line of questioning, but apparently, not for Sawyer.
“How come?”
And instead of being annoyed by the question, Jenna was actually glad she’d asked, and tight belts of unhealed pain that had been buckled around her for years suddenly opened and slid off her as she took a deep breath—the first in a long time when it came to thinking about her family. She wanted Sawyer to know things about her, and she didn’t want to take the time to analyze why. She served up pasta on two plates, added the sauce, and handed them to Sawyer. Wine bottle in one hand, grated parmesan in the other, she followed her out to the dining room. Sawyer went back in to grab their glasses, and soon, they were seated, Jenna at the head of the table, Sawyer sitting to her right.
“As I told your mom, my parents are older. I was an oops baby. My mom was in her mid-forties when she had me. My brothers were already thirteen and fifteen.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Yeah, by the time I was five, they were both off to college, so I was kind of an only child. Which was fine. I got lots of attention then. But”—she inhaled slowly and eased it out—“my parents are very conservative.”
“Uh-oh,” Sawyer said, spinning spaghetti on her fork.
“Yeah.” She gave a soft, bitter laugh. “Coming out didn’t go so well.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen?”
“Oh. Early. I didn’t come out until I was in college.”
“Yeah, I knew pretty early on. Did my own research, because I couldn’t exactly talk to my mom about it.” She forked some pasta into her mouth and chewed. “They love me. I know they do. They just…don’t understand me. And they don’t really try to. You know?”
Sawyer nodded.
“And don’t get me started on how they voted.” She grimaced.
“I’m so sorry,” Sawyer said, shaking her head.
“You’re so lucky to have the family support you do. I hope you know that.”
“I do. Truly.” Sawyer’s smile was tender, and Jenna felt a weird mix of envy for the family Sawyer had and relief that she didn’t have to deal with the lack of acceptance Jenna herself had faced. “So,” Sawyer went on, “when was your last long-term relationship?”
“I was with a girl I met through friends for about two years.” She tapped a finger against her chin as she did the math. “Three years ago?”
“What happened?”
Jenna lifted a shoulder. “She got transferred to San Diego. She wanted me to go with her, and that’s when I realized that I loved my shop more than I cared about her. We broke up. She left.” She sighed. “I felt terrible about that for months.”
“Sounds like you made the right choice for everybody, though.”
A nod. “I did. I cared about her, but I wasn’t really in love with her. It just felt awful at the time.”
There was a beat of quiet where they simply smiled softly at each other. Jenna was shocked at how comfortable it was just to be in Sawyer’s presence. Comfortable and completely unexpected. They’d finished eating, and by unspoken agreement, they stood. Sawyer cleaned up the dishes, rinsing them and loading the dishwasher while Jenna fed her animals. When it came time to let Arnold out, she slipped the red Crocs by the back door on and went out first, making sure the gate was latched tightly and Arnold couldn’t escape again. She didnotneed two heart attacks in one day, thank you very much. She waited forhim, but he didn’t stay out very long, and she wondered if he was also trying to avoid another scare. She let him in and shut the door.
When she came back in, she found her wine glass refilled and sitting on the coffee table. Sawyer was standing near her bookshelf, her own wine glass dangling delicately from her fingers as she scanned the titles.
