“Where would I go?”
“Australia,” I say, without thinking. “It’s where my mom was born.”
“And your dad?”
“He was American, but that’s all I know. He left when I was a baby.”
“Let’s say my Australian visa takes a while to process. Where inthiscountry would you go?”
I tell him about the San Juan Islands, just below the Canadian border. It’s lush, wild, and full of birds. I’ve been dreaming about visiting for years.
“Maybe we could go together,” he says, after I finish talking.
Here we go. Another inch, and the jaws of the trap will snap across my ankle.
“In another life.”
“What’s wrong with this one?”
“Do you have amnesia? We just talked about this. You’re married.”
“I’m getting divorced. I told you last night.”
He says this earth-shattering fact as if he were commenting on the weather. I study his expression and decide that he’s being serious.
“We were drunk last night. I’m not going to hold you to that.”
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“I’ve told you, I’m not getting involved.”
“And I told you, my wife’s cheating on me, Brie. That means what we did isn’t wrong. She already violated our marriage.” He stands up and holds out his hand. The last time he did that, I ended up naked in the rain. “But I do think you’re special. And I do want to see where this goes.”
I look at his hand and shake my head. No—I’m not ready to lose a limb. Not today.
“I’m leaving.” As soon as I say it, it seems obvious. Of course I have to leave. I’ve done everything wrong. I try to mentally calculate how far I can drive on a full tank of gas. Out of the state, at least. “I’m not going to lie. I’m obviously attracted to you, and if you were single and it wasn’t so messy, I might be interested. But this isn’t me.”
“Don’t leave.”
“You seriously want me to live under the same roof as your wife?”
“Not the same roof. And yes. I don’t want you to lose your job because of me. She’ll never find out.”
“I’m not a reckless person, Bradley. I’ve seen what happens to reckless people where I come from. You don’t understand how hard I had to work just to be a normal college graduate.”
“I’m not offering you ketamine. Just don’t leave. We can go back to normal. As friends.” He extends his hand. The familiar twinkle of irony is gone. He seems terribly, intensely sincere. “Please don’t go. I’ll feel enormously guilty.”
It’s a horrible idea. Grace has already warned me not to touch her husband. The safest bet would be to run while I’m still unharmed. But then, Bradley said she was prone to drama. She’s a writer, after all. And the thought of leaving this place with nothing fills me with dread.
If I stay, what’s the worst that can happen?
“Fine,” I say, taking his hand. “But you need to make me a proper coffee.”
“OK, friend. It’s a deal.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As Bradley leaves, I remember to ask for a ride into town, but he tells me the roads will still be closed.
