Page 68 of One-Star Romance

“I bet that made you very popular in high school. ‘No, I won’t be watching the game this weekend, I’ve got a fascinating biography of Kierkegaard on my nightstand instead.’ ”

“You’re forgetting the Ken Burns documentaries,” he said. “Strange how people never wanted to come over for movie nights of those.”

They smiled, then circled each other warily.

“Thank you for helping,” Rob said, cocking his head in the direction of his father’s bedroom. “He loves you.”

“I think he probably loves anyone who listens to him,” she said, then cringed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, you’re right. My father has always needed admirers to come alive.”

“I understand that. Admiration can be intoxicating. Now that I’ve finally got some…well, I can see how it changes you. How you could start needing the adulation.”

“From the TV show, you mean?”

“Yeah,” she said. “The one you think you’ve seen on the billboards.”

“I know it from more than the billboards.”

She’d thought he might have been bluffing earlier with Tyler, when he’d pretended not to know about the show. Although, why would he have felt such a need to one-up Tyler, unless…

Her heart was pounding. “What would you rate it?” she asked, though she didn’t know if she could handle hearing the answer. She didn’t look at him, studying the dictionaries instead, his silhouette in the corner of her eye.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’ve only watched one episode. It’s been an eventful fall. It’s not you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, it is you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was worried about Angus, and then I was watching the show and I couldn’t concentrate on it.” His voice grew quiet, and she turned toward him right as he said, “I kept thinking about you. The way I handled things at the wedding…”

The lamp Natalie had turned on cast the room in a low light. In the shadows, the scruff on his face darkened his cheeks. Since when had Rob been a man who allowed the existence of scruff? It suited him, this hint of wildness. She stared at his cheeks. Then she was staring at his lips, slightly parted. Then she was moving toward him.

Downstairs, the front door creaked open. Rob stepped back. “My mother.” He turned and quickly walked out of the room. Natalie stood frozen for a moment, then followed him.

In the front hallway, a woman in her late fifties wearily brushed off the flakes of snow that had started to fall outside. Natalie glanced at Rob, halfway down the stairs. His mouth was set in a hard line. He’d said his mother had been keeping his father’s condition from him. Was he furious? How unforgiving would he be? She pictured him at the wedding, his moral outrage and complete certainty that he was correct.

“He’s all right?” Rob’s mother asked.

Rob nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking on the second word. Her eyes were red, her nose swollen, as if she’d spent the whole journey home crying.

The step creaked under Natalie’s foot, and Rob’s mother registered her presence. “Oh goodness, hello.”

“My friend Natalie,” Rob said, with a barely imperceptible pause between “my” and “friend.”

“Hi,” Natalie said.

Rob’s mom touched her chest. “Carol. I’m so sorry for interrupting your night. You two should go back to your party.”

“Natalie, I’ll meet you in the car,” Rob said, voice tight. “My mom and I need a few minutes to talk.”

26

Rob shut the door behind Natalie and turned to his mother.

“Honey,” she said, holding her hands up as if to ward off his anger, “please let me apologize—”

“What happened?” he asked. He found it hard to summon the fury he’d felt earlier that night in the car, when she’d finally called him back, full of panic and vowing to get on the next train home. Mostly, he felt sad, drained, and daunted by what lay ahead. “You went into the city to see a play? I don’t get it.”

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