Nicole glances at me, her forehead wrinkling again.
I cough, then sip some water. “Allergies.”
I don’t dare look at Otto, but Nicole does. “I stopped by to grab something from my office, but I forgot my key card. Do you mind letting me in?”
“Of course not,” he responds, pulling his out of his pocket.
“Thank you so much,” Nicole gushes. “I really appreciate it.”
He’s swiping a card, not giving you a kidney, I think.
The venom behind it surprises me; I’ve never had any issue with Nicole before. All the elation has drained away, leaving emptiness behind. I remembered what it was like to have fun with Otto. And this is a reminder of the opposite. Intensity isn’t specific to happiness.
The highs were higher around Otto. The lows were lower too.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I say abruptly, turning toward my sedan without waiting for any response. Purposefully lumping them together when I should have thanked Otto individually. Problem is, I’m scared of what else I might say.
Once I’m safely inside my car, I release a long exhale. Against my better judgment, I glance in the rearview mirror, watching them walk and talk and smile as they approach the main entrance.
I blast “Silver Springs” on repeat during the drive home, and I’m still in a shitty mood when I park in the driveway. I’m too tired from playing with Otto to go for a run, my usual mood booster, so I head to the garage to tackle a task I’ve been putting off.
I’m crouched, stabbing the damp dirt of the front flower beds, when I hear the door hinges squeak.
“Do you need help?” Cassidy asks, taking a seat on the front steps.
She’s wearing a fleece jacket that she zips up almost to her chin. It doesn’t feel as warm as it did when I was exercising earlier, but it’s still the nicest day we’ve had this year.
I swipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm. “I’ve got it.”
My sister glances at the small shovel I’m holding. “You hate gardening, Claire.”
“No, I don’t.”
I do hate gardening.
I hate kneeling on the ground. I hate how dirt collects under your fingernails. I hate the bugs. And I especially hate how repetitive it is—how new weeds grow and new mulch has to be spread and new seeds planted.
But Mom loved gardening.Loves, I quickly correct, although it’s no longer the constant it once was.
During our latest visit to Echo Glen, several of her indoor plants had browning leaves.
Every spring, she’d plant dahlias in the yard, digging up the tubers for the winter and transplanting them back into the flower beds each spring, so I’m doing the same.
Last year, Mom and I did this together.
A lot can change in a year. A year ago, I never thought I’d see Otto Berger again. Never thought I’d have to witness another woman flirt with him.
I can’t even blame Nicole. She has no idea what Otto means—meant—to me.
Cassidy cups her chin, watching me smooth dirt. “Tommy and I are riding bikes to the park. Want to come?”
I shake my head. “No thanks. I just want to finish this and take a shower.”
“Okay. Also…Josh wants to make dinner tonight.”
I nod. “I’m free to watch Tommy.”
“Actually, I was thinking I’d bring him with me to Josh’s. Unless…you think that’s a bad idea?”
