Arnaud shook his head. “See, that’s why I leave the room when you and your lady friends start talking about guys.”
“I’ll try and explain later,” Claire told him. “Again.”
Olivia said, “I love Dillon. He’s a part of my life. I hope he always will be. When I arrived back and saw him, I mean the very instant we met up, I felt like all the years just vanished.”
Claire said, “All those years, meaning while you were married to old what’s-his-name.”
“Exactly. It felt like I hadn’t allowed myself to miss Dillon until that moment. When we were back together again.”
“That is just so sweet,” Claire said.
Arnaud said, “Okay, now I’m really lost.”
Claire ignored her husband. “So you come back for the first time in forever. You discover your home is a wreck. Porter offers you a bed inside his jail. And wait, who is in the next cell but the heart-breaker himself.”
“Right.”
“So you’re concerned that all this might, just might, be warping your judgment.”
“Yes and no.”
Arnaud opened his mouth, but Claire raised one finger, halting words before they emerged. Which Olivia thought was remarkable, given how Arnaud stood directly behind his wife and Claire’s gaze was laser-focused on her friend. Claire told her, “I’d say you were perfectly right to be worried. Now tell me what you think is going on here.”
“I don’t know.” Olivia thought her voice sounded overly calm. As if internally she wailed, but didn’t know how to release her confusion. “I need you to tell me what you think.”
Arnaud wheeled about, waved his arms over his head, and went back to the stoves. The clattering pots almost masked his muttering.
Claire glanced at her husband, smiled, said, “That’s a good little chef.” Then she told Olivia, “Do you love Dillon?”
“I always will. But I don’tlovehim.”
Claire’s smile was as gentle as a mother inspecting her infant. Sharing a special moment. Just the two of them. “You think or you know?”
“I’m growing more certain by the moment. And I desperately want this to be true. Especially, you know . . .”
“Since you just told our childhood bestie to go for the cheese.”
Struggling to express these partially formed thoughts had an interesting effect. Olivia felt as though she listened to herself, but as an outsider. Watching the concepts take full form only as she spoke. “Coming up here, I really thought my life was over. I’d hit the brick wall, and the best I could hope for was to limp back home.” She watched Arnaud walk back and fit himself in beside his wife. Spatula in one hand, empty taco shell in the other. Olivia continued, “Take my time, do what I could to survive and hopefully heal. Someday. Maybe.”
Arnaud spoke with grave authority. “You’re talking like a lady with no friends. Which isn’t the situation here. At all. You hear what I’m saying?”
Claire slipped her arm around Arnaud’s waist. Gave him a one-arm hug. Asked Olivia, “And now?”
“Ever since I arrived, I’ve watched new avenues open up. New opportunities.” She took a hard breath. “I’m happy. It’s a word I haven’t used to describe myself in what feels like centuries.”
“Now you’re talking,” Arnaud said.
Claire said, “Back to Dillon.”
The reality she faced became clear. This was why she had come here, Olivia now knew. To speak these words aloud. And accept them as her version of truth. She desperately hoped. “I’m just a few months removed from my divorce. Not to mention attending my ex’s funeral. Losing my business. And my home. You see?”
This time, it was Arnaud who nodded. “This is a perfect case of bad timing. You’re not ready. Not for the old to become new.” When Claire turned and looked at him, he said, “What?”
“Oh, nothing.” She kissed him soundly. “My kitchen poet.”
Olivia said, “Actually, it feels likegreattiming.”
Arnaud stepped away. “Okay, now I’m back inside that total guy-confusion zone.”
The other waitress chose that moment to enter the kitchen and announce, “Looks like half the town council just arrived. And they’re hungry. And they’re asking about the lady here. And they’ve got the heart-breaker with them.”
Claire scolded, “You weren’t supposed to be listening to a private conversation.”
The waitress was tall, strong, weary, and very amused. “Honey, that’s the only way I keep myself entertained.”
Arnaud turned back to his stove. “Rodents on toast coming up.”
Claire rose, hugged her friend, said, “Go see if all those good intentions stand up to watching the two of them together.”
