Page 89 of Wanting a Family Man

Cloe waited until the machine was off to knock and peek in.

“Reporting for duty.”

“Oh, hey.” Sophie removed the mask. “Let me call Logan.” She picked up the nearest phone, tapped, and said, “Cloe’s here.” She hung up. “He’ll be right down. Do you want to borrow a pair of my coveralls?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Sophie took her through another door into a locker room that doubled as storage. A rack of shelves held cans of paint with dribbles down their sides and other odds and ends. There was a big laundry bin and a short bench along one wall with a variety of well-worn footwear beneath. A second door led to a powder room with a toilet, sink, and shower stall.

Sophie shook out a pair of neatly bundled coveralls, asking, “So how are you doing?”

“Getting blisters from the crutches.” Thanks to her walk all the way down to the store yesterday. Trystan was right. She should have asked him to give her a lift. Her arms were aching from all the activity. She didn’t know how she would manage a paintbrush, but she would try because she needed the money.

As she showed her palm and gave Sophie a wry look, she caught an expression on Sophie’s face that was somewhere between curious and consoling.

That’s when she knew. Sophie wasn’t just wondering what had happened between her and Trystan. She was wondering why it had ended.

“Well, this is horrible,” Cloe said, feeling all the boulders in the avalanche of pity land on her.

“What? Oh.” Sophie winced. “If it matters, Trystan didn’t say a word. Logan figured it out. He and Reid asked Trys about it, then Reid told Emma and she told me. I asked Trystan why I had to hear it through the grapevine, and he told me to mind my own effing business so I’m trying to do that.” She cleared her throat. “But I’m also here if you want to talk.”

“Not really. Thanks, though.” Cloe moved to the bench and began working the coveralls onto her legs.

“Okay.” Sophie turned and stalled, as though she wasn’t sure if she should leave it there or say more. “But here’s the thing. Trys needs his me-time. When he’s with someone—and I don’t mean romantically, I mean physically hanging out with a person—he’s all in. Whatever you need, whatever emotional baggage you’re carrying, he’s picking it up and carrying it for you. That’s why he has to run off into the woods and look after himself for a while. He careshard. And he knows it. So he’s cautious about how much he lets himself care.”

“’Kay.” Cloe stood on her good foot and worked her arms into the sleeves. “That doesn’t really make me feel better that he doesn’twantto care for me, but thanks for enlightening me, I guess.”

“But this is what I’m saying. He sometimes needs to retreat and figure stuff out. Sometimes I tell him I’m ignoring him on purpose, out of love, so he knows I don’t need anything from him and he can frigging relax.”

“That’s nice that you feel so secure in your relationship with him, Sophie. I’m happy for you. But I had a man yank my chain really hard for a couple of years, then I asked this one to do one thing for me, which was not make me the talk of the town. Yet here I am. So I’m ignoring him with anger and resentment, if that’s okay with you.”

When Cloe glanced up from buttoning the coveralls, she saw Sophie’s cheeks were hollow.

“Yeah, you came to the wrong place for that,” Sophie said. “There’s fuck all to do here except drink and talk about other people. But let’s do that.” She rummaged in the pocket of her coveralls and brought out her phone, tapping to place a call. “Hey. Tell Reid to watch the baby tonight. We’re taking a bottle of wine over to Cloe. Because men suck. Yeah, I forgot that for a minute, too—” A pause, then, “I know. I’m super sorry to hear he’s like all the rest. It’s a huge bummer—No, you go do that. Later, gator.” She ended the call. “Em’s in.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Cloe was touched. She really was, but, “I was just letting off steam. I’m not going to trash him behind his back, especially to you. He’s obviously one of your best friends.”

“Oh, Cloe, you sweet summer child. Trystan and Emma have whole text chains devoted to reporting on me and Logan like we’re the freaking Kardashians or something. Which I would be madder about, but Trys and I did the same thing when Emma and Reid were getting together so…” She hitched a shoulder. “Did you hear the part where we have to make our own entertainment here?”

“I don’t even know why I like you people,” Cloe said with a pained scowl.

Sophie threw a laugh to the ceiling. “Because you’re one of us. Obviously. Come on. Logan’s probably wondering what I’ve done with you.”

*

The days wentboth quickly and slowly. Painting was tiring, but kind of relaxing. It also gave her too much time to think. To dwell. Cloe would start to spiral into a dark gloom, then some little thing would pull her out of herself, like Emma turning up with coffee because it was a nice day for a walk, or Biyen asking if she would drive him home in the golf cart.

She worked Saturday, out of boredom. Mentally, she was on theStorm Ridge, visiting a hot spring or watching whales. She really missed doing the tours.

“Knock, knock,” Biyen shouted. “Permission to come aboard?”

With a chuckle, Cloe called, “Just a sec.”

She wrapped her brush and roller, then hobbled her way up onto the deck before she removed her mask.

“There are too many fumes for you to come inside, but sure. Come on up.”

Biyen came up the ladder and opened the grocery bag he held.

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