Page 50 of The Jilted Lovers Club
“And I suppose you do?”
He winks. “I’ve already said too much. You need to figure this one out on your own. But here’s a hint: If you wait too long, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”
“And you know this because…”
He sighs. “Because I am a student of people, and I know my subject.”
“Meaning you’re a busybody who’s up in everyone’s business.” I raise my eyebrows, and he grins.
“Same diff.”
My mind goes a million miles a minute as I make the drive home, and not all of it is from the caffeine. I keep going back and forth on what to do. Tell Jordy how I feel and make the most of what little time we had left? Hope that she considers a permanent residence in Lahoma Springs? Or just remain quiet and let her go, hoping I can eventually forget her?
By the time I reach the gravel drive, my heart is pounding with my decision.
I have to tell her. I have to at least let her be a part of the conversation I keep having in my head. If what Michael said was true, that she actually likes me, it’s not fair for me to shut things down without giving her the chance to choose.
I open the door and am about to call out to her, but I can hear her in the bedroom on the phone, and I don’t want to disturb her in case it’s her work. I peek in on Lottie, but she’s not in the crib. It’s way past her naptime anyway. She’s probably with Jordy. I head toward the back room to relieve Jordy of babysitting duties. But as I approach the door, the conversation leaps out at me.
“We’re from two different worlds. It would never work.”
I step back, knowing I should leave, but unable to move my feet.
“You’re not listening, Mom, I’m not even interested in him.”
It can’t be me she’s talking about. But could it? I don’t actually know about her day-to-day life. Could she be talking about someone else?
“Yeah, I’ve been here two weeks now. He’s been really generous, and it might be because he wants more. But I don’t think of him that way.” She laughs. “It’s actually kind of annoying, if I’m being honest. He keeps hinting, and I have to keep dodging, but politely so I can keep a roof over my head.” Another pause, and my heart is pounding. “Yeah, the money is an issue. We’re completely unmatched.”
I think back to the gallery. How she moved away when I reached for her hand. How she bought all four of Grace’s paintings for a total of $4,000, as if it was nothing to her.
Meanwhile, I’m paying less than market rate for this tiny house, living on my ex’s property, and staying frugal just so I can save for Lottie’s future. I don’t have $4,000 to drop on art, let alone anything else.
I don’t want to hear the rest of the conversation. I start to leave, but then I hear Lottie squeal, “Daddy!” through the crack in the door. I can see her straining in Jordy’s arms. Jordy turns, a look of surprise on her face.
“Mom, I have to go.”
I ease the door open, and the look on her face is pure guilt. But I smile, pretending I heard nothing.
“There’s my girl,” I say, scooping Lottie up as she giggles. “Thanks for watching her.”
“Anytime.” Jordy gets up, smoothing her shirt out. It’s obvious she’s uncomfortable. “Hey, you want to grab dinner or something? We could see if Bec and Bob can watch Lottie so that we can get out, or she can even come with us.”
“Nah.” I head to the door. “I think Lottie and I are going to hang with Trash Truck on TV, then have some mac and cheese for dinner. But you’re free to go out if you want. I’m sure Grace or Michael would love to spend time with you.”
I try not to look at her as I leave the room, but she follows, and I can’t help glancing in her direction. Her face looks confused. Disappointed.
“I can’t,” she says. “My car is still downtown.”
Fuck. I forgot.
“Borrow the truck,” I say, pulling the keys from my pocket. I aim to toss them to her, but she shakes her head.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just…” She looks back at the bedroom. “I guess I’ll just hang in the bedroom and read.”
She stalls for a little longer, lingering as I sit on the couch and picked up the remote. I can’t fend off the guilt that settles in my belly.
“Should I save you some macaroni?” I finally ask, looking over my shoulder.
