Page 115 of Old Acquaintances

“No.”

“You could probably thrive here in Florida. These people don’t wear a lot of clothes either. Look at that woman over there. Where are her pants?”

“Stop it,” I huff.

“Stop what? I’m making conversation.”

I disagree, “You’re picking at me so that we don’t have to sit in a quiet car and think about everything.”

How can he be so calm in my presence?

He’s finally told me the big reason we didn’t talk for so many years and now we have nothing standing in our way. We can explore the reason for his abrupt exit after the wedding. He cantell me what he meant by, “I don’t want you.”

That is unless he meant what he said about not finding me attractive anymore, being done with his infatuation with me.

Why couldn’t I have seen it before? I might have had a lifetime with him if I uncovered my feelings sooner.Stupid, stupid.

Tucker fiddles with the music on his phone and I move his hand away. He fights, “Ella, stop it.”

“We don’t need any music. If you aren’t uncomfortable around me, then we can sit here quietly and look for…alligators.”

He offers me an annoyed look.

I didn’t want to believe him last night when he said he was over me, that he had to stop loving me to get through the trauma of handling my near-dead body. I doubted he would be so immune, after years of undressing me with his eyes, but I’m apparently not the vixen I once considered myself.

I used to simply exist and it garnered Tucker’s attention. I spent last night curled up in his arms, our tears spilling into one another, and woke to a raging hard-on in my stomach, all things he’s currently indifferent about.

“There’s one,” he grumbles, pointing at a green plastic yard decoration.

I surreptitiously adjust the top of my dress. I cross my legs, hiking the bottom up. I brush my hair to the side, Jessica Rabbit style.

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

“There’s another one,” he says.

I snap. “Okay, you made your point.”

“Are you on the way to making yours?” He rolls his eyes. “I know what you’re doing.” He grounds his jaw. “Trying to va-va-voom yourself into getting me to talk to you. That’s justsick.”

“So, you don’t mind me being sexual as long as it’s onaccident?” I scoff. “The minute I want it, you’ve lost all interest in me. Who’s the sicko now?”

He bites back a smile. “Backfired.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I pretend. This is going to be harder than I thought.

He says, “You know, Ritchie likes you.” He stares at me. “Genuinely, he always has, for whatever reason. He’s single now. You should go for it.”

I’m both sad and angry at the same time, about the suggestion and the eye contact. It’s a challenge. He’s trying to say he doesn’t want me, and I should va-va-voom elsewhere.

“Is that what you want? For me to be with Ritchie?” I ask.

“If it stops you from embarrassing yourself like this then, yeah, maybe.”

“Okay.” I cross my arms. “Ritchie’s very attractive. And he’s very nice.”

“He makes a lot of money.”

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