Page 10 of Those Two Words

Peeking around the door frame to Lottie’s bathroom, I check to see how she’s doing. I find her making funny faces in the mirror, looking a lot like a rabid raccoon, thanks to the toothpaste foam lining her mouth. She catches my reflection in the mirror and her goofy face breaks out into the biggest grin, instantly erasing the sullen mood I’ve been in since leaving the restaurant. I like to call it Lottie therapy.

“Excuse me, miss, have you seen my daughter?” I ask in faux confusion while looking around the bathroom dramatically, even whipping back the shower curtain.

She looks a little concerned for a nanosecond but then quickly catches on to my joke. “She doesn’t live here. I do, the bon-don-ible snowman.” She curls her fingers, raises them in the air, and growls.

“Oh my! Well, a-bom-i-na-ble snowmen don’t need bedtime stories. Guess I’ll get going.” Thumbing behind me, I back slowly out of the bathroom.

She scrambles down from her stool and wipes her mouth on the hand towel hanging next to the sink. “Dadd-eeeeee! It’s me, it’s me. I love story time. Come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway toward her bedroom, with a lot of strength for someone so tiny. “We have to get a move on.”

I laugh because this is exactly what I said to her this morning when we were running late.

Once she’s tucked underneath her mint-green comforter, surrounded by her favorite stuffed animals and her twinkling night-light is on, I settle my large frame beside her. We read her favorite dinosaur princess bedtime story—voices and all—but she drifts off to sleep before I get to the last page.

Pushing her hair back, I drop a kiss to her forehead and shut off her overhead light. “Sweet dreams, spud,” I whisper, before tiptoeing out of her room.

As soon as I’m outside her door, my phone buzzes in my back pocket and my smartwatch shows me it’s Graham. Don’t I have a bone to pick with him.

Making sure I’m far enough away from Lottie’s room so I don’t wake her, I accept the call and don’t bother with niceties.

“Thanks for the heads up, you prick!” I whisper-shout.

“Whoa, now hold up. If this outburst is about this afternoon, I would like to remind you that I called to warn you about the town’s newest arrival. It’s not my fault you hung up on me before I could tell you. Do you want to apologize?”

“Well…you could have tried harder. I walked right into that meeting looking like the biggest fucking idiot. I could barely look at her without wanting to…” Strangle her? Hold her? Kiss her?

My eyes widen at that last one, as if my internal thoughts were broadcasted through the phone to my brother, and I’m glad he can’t see the heat warming my cheeks.

“Without what?”

“Nothing, nothing. This is a total mess. I’m guessing Mom told you about what she and George proposed?”

“Mm-hm. She sure did. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know how bad the finances have gotten. Mom swore me to secrecy until they had spoken to you.” I hear the hurt in his own voice, and I know how hard it would have been for him to keep that information under lock and key. “How do you feel about it all?”

I know he’s not only referring to the restaurant. I’ve spent all day playing today’s meeting on repeat in my head and the only conclusion I’ve come to so far is that I have no idea how I’m going to handle being in such close proximity with Johanna and stop myself from asking that burning question.

Why did you leave?

I wish I didn’t care, yet there are so many reasons why I do. Not knowing what happened all those years ago has slowly eaten me up inside, to the point that I feel numb anytime I hear her name or see something that reminds me of her.

She’s exactly as I remembered her, if not more heartbreakingly beautiful. Something about the way she carried herself and reacted to certain things had me pausing. The sudden stiffness to her muscles, the way she avoided eye contact, the glint of panic in her eyes when I first spoke. I hated the way I reacted and how I spoke to her, but I was completely blindsided by her arrival.

“Honestly? I have no idea. The restaurant is a punch to the throat, but I knew we couldn’t carry on pretending that the number of customers wasn’t dwindling each day. Jo, on the other hand? Yeah, didn’t see that coming.” It’s been over five years since we last spoke and I’m still none the wiser as to why she left. Last my mom said she was doing well in Tennessee, so why would she abandon that life at the drop of a hat and move back to town?

Graham hums in agreement down the line. “What are your plans for the restaurant then?”

“Apart from avoiding her as much as I can, I don’t know where to start. I never knew things were this bad.”

Graham is silent, and I know he’s thinking of the best way to respond. This news is hard on all of us, and I know Graham will be quietly stewing in his thoughts.

“Well, be careful. I know how close you two were and I don’t want you to get hurt again.” Something about Graham’s tone makes me think he has more to say on the matter, but he doesn’t press me on the subject. He’s never vocalized it, but I know Jo’s leaving cut Graham much deeper than he let on.He doesn’t know the full story about what happened between us before she left, and it’s not something I’ll be sharing with him anytime soon.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. I can’t see her sticking around for long.”

“I don’t know, Pat. Mom said something this evening about going easy on Jo and not judging her too quickly. Maybe you guys can finally talk about what happened.”

“There’s nothing for us to talk about. She made that clear enough.”

I decide to change the topic, not wanting to dwell on Jo’s return and my failing as manager. We make plans to go for a drink later in the week, and Graham offers to pick Lottie up from school tomorrow. We hang up, I let out a long sigh, tilt my head back to rest against the cushion, and stare up at the ceiling. My eyes follow the path of a crack in the crown molding, and for once I allow myself to think back to the weeks following my dad’s death, his funeral, and Jo’s departure.

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