Page 86 of Yes No Maybe

With emotions rising again, I release his hand and nod.

“How are you about Dean coming home?” he asks hesitantly. “Have your break-up speech ready? People say I’m a decent writer… I could help if you want.”

My soft chuckle veers into a worried sigh. “I don’t have a speech. It’s hard for me to even think about… I don’t want to hurt him. Or lose him… though it feels like I have already.” Jack’s gaze falters at my admission, making me regret it. “Or hurt or lose you. I’ll know how I feel when I see him. We werereallygood together once, and I haven’t been fair to him. Please understand, I want to be sure.”

“I get it.”

The concerned stitch between his eyes makes me wonder.

His hand drifts to the small of my back as we rejoin the group, the soft press of his fingertips sending Jack-tingle-shocks through me. I should mind, but I only want more. Talking to him, touching him—I haven’t felt this relaxed since Airlie.

We find them laughing hysterically over Rose’s admission that she only goes to church to hear Jack’s impressive cursing on the way there and spends her church time asking for forgiveness for enjoying it so much.

I’m about to share a discussion I had with my students last year when they called curse words “sentence enhancers,” equal to adjectives and adverbs when a voice cuts through our laughter.

“Hello? Rowan?” Between our houses, Dean appears.

Twenty-Eight

Jack

Thelaughterstopsinstantly,like an old record player screeching to a halt. My hand tightens against her, nearly fisting her shirt to hold her in place. But she pulls away and rushes straight into his arms, taking my confidence with her. Dean should be a formality, and dumping him just another item on her to-do list between paying bills and getting an oil change. But as they collide into an all-too-familiar embrace, I see it’s not that simple. She looks almost happy to see him.

“Dean, you’re here.”

“Missed you, Rowan. Left as soon as filming ended. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Just all summer. This guy… this fucking guy.

She relaxes in his embrace but snaps back when he goes for a kiss.

Atta girl. Stay strong. There’s hope for us yet.

She waves over her lackluster response by taking his hand and leading him up the deck.

He approaches like a car salesman circling the lot, a cheesy grin plastering his stupid face.

Christine stands and offers him a limp embrace—nothing like the one she gave me. “Welcome back, Dean. It’s good to see you.”

“Ah, Christine. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Rowan’s brow pinches at this. She probably told him, and he didn’t listen.Strike ten for Dean.

Mira doesn’t get up, but he pats her shoulder. “Mira, always a pleasure,” he says, with questionable sincerity.

He introduces himself to everyone amid a round ofhow-was-trafficandwhat-have-you-been-filming. Rose gets him a glass of wine while Tom fetches another plate. Vernon grabs a chair, and everyone makes room at the table.

My table. My wine. My fucking backyard.

For once, I regret being so damn cozy with the neighbors.

I’m a stone, immovable, leaning against the brick counter. My eyes lock on Rowan. Her forehead creases with worry lines while her eyes plead with me to behave.

Tom presses a whiskey glass into my hand. “You won’t win her heart with anger,” he whispers.

He’s right, more than he knows. I down the drink and extend a hand to Dean.

His gray eyes widen when I introduce myself. He grips my hand with both of his, shaking vigorously.

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