Page 41 of Hats off to Love

One side of his mouth tips up, and he seems to relax even more into his chair. “Well, look at that. We’re making progress.”

“I guess we are.” I smile back.

Dinner, of course, is perfect, and once I’ve transitioned into a food coma state, we clean up the dishes and make our way over to the couch. Neither one of us sits on an end, both kind of landing in the middle, and we prop our feet up on the large rectangular ottoman that sits before us. This is such foreign territory for me, to be just casually sitting here with him, but at the same time, because I really have known him for so long, it again feels normal. We feel normal. My disdain for him is definitely gone and has shifted to something new. I can’t help but wonder what will happen when our time comes to an end.

“You look tired,” he says after finding us an old movie and tossing the remote to the side.

“I am, but it’s worth it—it really is. Only three weeks left and then it will all come to a sudden halt.”

“What will you do once the Derby is over?”

“There are other events later in the year like the Breeders’ Cup, the Kentucky Fall Classic, and the steeplechase races, but aside from that and the weddings, mainly I will just be rebuilding my inventory for next year. I’d like to have twenty-five percent more stock.”

He grabs a blanket and tosses it over both of us, and all I can think is that this fake relationship is feeling less and less fake by the day.

“So, just to clear the air here . . .” He shifts so he’s facing me a little and puts one arm across the back of the couch. “I’ve been meaning to ask you: why do you think I’m mean, cunning, and two-faced?” He runs his hand over the back of his head. He’s uncomfortable asking me this, and now I feel bad for saying it.

I shift a little so I’m facing him too. He asked, so I’m going to give it to him. “Well, we both know you haven’t exactly been a pillar of kindness to me over the years.” I let out a deep, exhausted sigh. “I don’t know why either, but at this point I just want it to be water under the bridge. I also may have taken it a step too far. I don’t think you are two-faced, Stokes—you’ve never had a problem telling me what you think. I just sometimes felt you were different with me than you were with others.”

The hand that’s on the back of the couch finds my braid, and he looks at it as he picks it up, runs his fingers down it, and thinks about what I said.

I don’t mind the quiet. I do wish I knew what’s going on in his head, what he is thinking, but I also know in order for us to ever move to a place of friendship where there is no animosity or doubt about one another, these conversations have to be had—that is, if he does truly want to be my friend.

I find I’m nervous waiting for his response.

Eventually his eyes make their way back to mine. “And you’ve never had a problem leaving realistic little rubber snakes lying around for me to find.”

A laugh bursts out of me. Stokes hates snakes. Hates them, fears them, you name it, and pranking him with them over the years has been the best. His expression softens as he’s pleased he made me laugh.

“Let’s talk about you for a minute. What’s up with that boss of yours, and why do you still work there?”

He lets out a heavy sigh and runs the hand sitting in his lap over his face. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore. My mother has worked with this firm for years. Her attorney was Mr. Richardson, who I interned under and who ultimately offered me the job. Six months later, he retired.”

“So the last two and a half years, you’ve been reporting to this Collier guy?”

“Yes, and I do try to give him the benefit of the doubt, but things there have changed.”

I tilt my head. “How so?”

His fingers pick up my braid again. “It’s been subtle, but the morale across the firm is different, and the clients we’ve taken on in the last eighteen months or so are not our usual. I don’t know . . .” He shakes his head and frowns. “And now that Suzy is there all day every day . . .” He stops talking, but I understand.

“So why do you stay?”

We all know he doesn’t need to work there, and he’s certainly put in enough time to learn what he needs to learn from a practical application standpoint. I know he’s never been one to quit things, but this is different, and ultimately the goal was never for him to stay long term.

His eyes find mine. Instead of uncertainty, there’s disappointment mixed with resoluteness, and that’s when he says, “Lately, I’ve been asking myself that same thing.”

16

Stokes has become an enigma to me.

When this charade first started, I was confused by him and his sudden friendly behavior, but over the past two weeks, I’ve now found him to be more of a mystery.

At some point during the movie, I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and what woke me was his hand. With his arm across the back of the couch, I’d somehow drifted his way and landed with his thigh as my personal pillow. I don’t remember this, but what I’m certain I’ll never forget was his arm resting on me with his fingers massaging my scalp. I could have lain there all night and enjoyed the feeling of him doing something so simple and sweet, but that wouldn’t have been fair as he too had to work on Monday, and I’m not quite fully comfortable with this newfound kindness from him. It goes against the grain—all of it.

The Stokes I’ve known for so long is closed off and rigid. I never in a million years would have pegged him as someone who is lovey-dovey and touchy. Yet every time we are together, he’s getting more bold and touching me somehow, some way, including this morning when he popped in with coffee.

Previously, he would place the items on the counter, smile, and be on his way. But today, he came behind the counter, wrapped me in a hug, and kissed my temple as he wished me a good day.