Page 54 of Happy After All

“Your agent would do that?”

“Sure. We’ve been together forever. He helps mitigate how much of an asshole I come across as.”

“I don’t have an agent. I submitted directly to the publisher. So I have no one to mitigate ... me.”

“Well. You don’t need it.”

I take that as the extraordinarily deep compliment that it is.

I park my car in the back lot, and we get out. We begin to walk toward the gate that takes us into the courtyard, and Nathan stops.

“So, your ex. He’s the kind of guy that’s egotistical enough to cheat on you, and most definitely then egotistical enough to believe you got him hired for this so that you could ... what? Try to get him back?”

I study the ground. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that he’s an egotist.”

“Why would you defend him at all?”

“I don’t know that that’s a defense of him. I was with him for years. He wasn’t all bad. It was ... There were circumstances. Anyway, a lot of my friends have been with men who cheated, and they chose to forgive them. I didn’t. It didn’t work for me. I think more people cheat than I realized.”

He stares at me, those green eyes uncompromising. “He’s a dick.”

I’m taken aback by the vehemence with which he says that. I’m reminded again that I don’t know anything about him. Not really.

I’m also reminded that I thought the same thing about him, more than once.

“I’m not happy with him,” I say. “But I feel like I have to preserve some kind thoughts for him because he was somebody I devoted a significant part of my life to.”

“Not in any way that counts,” he says. “Or he never would have done that.”

“Why does that matter to you?” I ask.

I want to know. I maybe evenneedto know why he’s standing out here talking to me. He has come to stay at my motel for all these summers. And now, this Christmas. He has been here without actually being here all this time, with the exception of his heroism during the fire. I’m mystified by it. Baffled, even. Why does it matter to him what I feel about anything?

A couple of days ago I wasn’t even sure he knew my name.

But he does.

Hedoesknow my name.

He walked with me to the grocery store. He’s standing here now.

Casting aspersions on a man who isn’t here to defend himself, not that I need him to be here defending himself. Not that I need him to get a fair chance. What I want to know iswhythis man thinks he has the right to criticize Christopher.

When it isn’t like he’s ever displayed an interest in me.

Or even the slightest bit of human warmth.

“Because,” he says, “if I were in the position ... I would treat you better.”

“You don’t really treat me that nicely.”

Suddenly, the air shifts. It’s like there was something between us, a veil dividing two worlds, and it’s torn now. I can see him. Without any barrier.

What I see leaves me speechless.

His eyes are glittering with arcane fire. His whole body draws up tight.

I can see now the effort he is exhibiting in order to keep himself from moving toward me.

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