Page 49 of The Quiet Tenant

And now it’s my turn. It’s not jewelry, but Sophie’s cookies are the best thing I have to offer at the moment.

I bring the phone to life and type: “Hey. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

I hit “send” and start the Civic. The judge’s house isn’t far from the town center, maybe a ten-minute drive from the restaurant, down the main road. Might as well start heading there. About five minutes later, my pocket vibrates. I slow down and check my phone.

“What is it?” he wrote back.

I type one-handed: “You’ll know soon enough. I’m making a home delivery :)”

I’m about to give the Honda some gas when my phone buzzes again.

“When?”

“In like…two minutes? I’m almost at the end of your street lol.”

I consider the message, then erase the “lol” and send it. Immediately, the three typing dots show up.

“OK. Don’t move. I’ll come to you. Cece’s asleep and I don’t want her to wake up. First Thanksgiving without Mom, you know?”

My head falls back, hard, against the headrest. How did I not think of this? We texted this morning, just our usual “Hi” and “Have a nice day.” After that, the Thanksgiving frenzy kept me too busy to check my phone as often as I wanted. All I managed was a terse—and, I realize now, stupid—“Happy Thanksgiving!” during a bathroom break, while Eric banged on the door yelling something about Grey Goose.

“Of course,” I text back. “I’m so sorry for dropping by unannounced. I’ll wait around the block.”

He doesn’t respond. Damn it. What was I thinking, showing up without warning?

It’s too late to turn back. He must be on his way already. I drive down the street, make a left, and switch off the engine.

A few seconds later, he jogs toward the Civic. I step out. He’s not wearing a coat, just a chunky beige sweater. No hat or gloves, either.

When he catches up with me, I chuckle and gesture at his naked throat, his bare hands. “How quickly did you dash out?”

Before he responds, he looks around, as if to check we’re alone. Then, he brings his lips to mine, a gentle peck at first, and then another, longer kiss. “Guess I was in a rush to see you.” His hands slipunder my coat and find my hips. He presses me against the Honda, softly. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, let myself melt into him.

For a moment, I forget about Thanksgiving. I forget about the restaurant. I forget about margins, weak sidecars, stolen ideas—about the tightening in my throat when I think about the future, frozen water in my lungs when I try to picture myself in five years, ten years, twenty years.

As much as it kills me, I break away long enough to hand him the box of cookies.

“Courtesy of Sophie, for our favorite customer.”

He holds one of the bags up into the beam of a streetlight. “Cookies. Well, that’s lovely. Thank you. And please tell Sophie I said thanks, too.”

I tell him he’s welcome and again that I’m sorry, so sorry for turning up like this. That I should have known, that I didn’t think, that I really hope I didn’t bother him.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places the box on the roof of the Honda. “I should head back,” he says, but he doesn’t. Something is holding him here. A temptation. A moment, better than he had imagined, begging to be prolonged.

He touches me again. Cups the back of my head, gives my hair a gentle tug. A quick nibble on my lower lip. Fire in my abdomen.

My breathing deepens. I press him against me, as hard as my sore arms allow. I want him, all of him, and I want him to have all of me. He fumbles with my sweater, with my shirt. Urgent fingers against my skin. His cold against my warmth. I close my eyes.

Maybe he feels it before we hear it. His lips disengage. His hands leave me. Before either of these things can register—before I can begin to miss him—it reaches us.

A scream, so piercing it tears the night in half.

CHAPTER 33

The woman in the house

He tells you how to lie to Cecilia about Thanksgiving. “Tell her you’re not seeing your family,” he instructs you one night. “Tell her they’re traveling. That they worked hard their entire lives and now they spend every holiday on a cruise ship.”

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