Page 97 of One Big Little Secret

She looks down.

“I mean, there’s Mrs. Gabbard, the babysitter from downstairs. She’s been a huge help and she’s a sweet lady. My parents are out of state.” Salem folds her arms defensively. “And now that you got us the company sitter, I have a little more flexibility there.”

That doesn’t tell me shit.

Whereisthis girl’s family? And the other half of the kid’s DNA?

I guess that’s the only answer my nosy ass gets tonight.

Safe to say, there’s no man in the picture, at least.

It shouldn’t feel like such a weird relief. I still can’t believe some mystery meat would just knock her up and scram.

She deserves better, and so does Arlo.

And maybe it’s the atmosphere speaking or maybe it’s just my little head taking control, but I can’t help feeling like life has dealt her a shitty, lonely hand.

“Do you want some wine?” she asks. “I have half a bottle open and it needs drinking. Nothing fancy, but it’s not bargain stuff either.”

It would be a mistake to say yes.

“Sounds great,” I tell her.

She pours us both a glass in no time. When she sits back down, she’s even closer to me on the sofa. Almost like she’s trying to make holding on to what little self-control I have left a little harder.

“Sorry it’s not the expensive stuff I’m sure you like,” she says as I take a sip. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered—I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Hey.Hey,stop.” I hold the glass up in a toast. “I’m not the snob you think I am. Wine’s wine, it’ll get you drunk just the same. I’m more of a cocktail man, but tonight, I don’t give a damn. Drinking with you again has a certain charm. It takes me back to when we were younger and a whole lot luckier.”

I can’t help implying what else happened that night.

There are a lot of other things I could say about the memories my mind replays like a bad porno flick from the last time we drank together. But I’m pretty sure if I did, she’d throw that glass at me.

And I wouldn’t blame her one bit.

“Was it really six years ago? Where does the time go?” I ask instead, as close as I can get without telling her how just being this close douses me in flames.

“Maybe for you.” She swirls her glass, staring at the burgundy liquid. “For me, it’s been an eternity. Like another life. A lot’s happened.”

“Arlo?”

She looks up quickly and nods, sobered.

“You don’t seem that different from the night at the casino. Older and wiser, maybe, but just the same in all the important ways.”

A heavy second ticks by before she relaxes again. I think she’s decided to sit here and dive into everything we thought we’d left behind.

“We were drunk, Patton. Basically strangers then,” she tells me. “And you don’t like me much now that I’m buried in baggage. I’m definitely not the same girl you met then, but it’s kind of you to say it.”

“Not true, Lady Bug.”

Fuck. The name falls out of me before I can stop it.

She stares at me, horrified.

“…could you not call me that?” Her voice sharpens and she swallows hard, looking away like I’ll turn her to stone. “I mean, do I really look like I turned out so lucky?”

I don’t answer.

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