Page 19 of This Much Is True
“Do you know how many feed store shirts you own?”
He shrugs.
“All of them,” I say.
“I like the way they fit.”
“Do you ever shop at a store that doesn’t sell farm supplies?” I ask.
“Why would I do that?” He laughs at my expression. “You have a little something on your cheek.”
I wipe at the spot he motions toward and find a sticky blob that must be snot. My face heats so hot that it’s warm to the touch.
“It happens to the best of us,” he says as I wipe my hand on a paper towel, then move to the sink. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Apparently. I lie down for a minute, and it’s three hours later.” I finish washing my hands. “I used your landline to make a couple of calls. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
We stand close enough to touch if our weight shifts just enough. My skin tingles at the proximity. I tell myself it’s because I need comfort and not because of anything else—surely not because I’m still attracted to Luke.
His half smile, like he can read my mind, gets me every time.
I turn off the tap. “My friend Stephanie and agent, Anjelica, seem to have taken care of everything.”
“That’s good.” He stretches his legs out in front of him. “You haven’t talked to Tom?”
“No. That’s a big no.”
He nods, following me with his eyes as I take a dish towel from the drawer.
“I’ll probably never talk to Tom again,” I say, drying my hands.
“Is that weird?”
I shrug. “I suppose it’s weird if you’re on the outside. You probably think it’s odd that I could’ve been marrying a man this morning, yet I’ll never talk to him again now.” I hold the towel in my hands and look at Luke. “But it’s really a relief.”
So many words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t have the guts to say them. It’s for the best that I don’t anyway. He’ll think I’m just overly emotional—and maybe I am. And I’ll regret saying them when I return to my life, and he never talks to me again—which he won’t.
The best way to predict the future is to look at the past. While our storied history is the sweetest part of my life, it’s the end I must use when looking into a crystal ball.
Even though as I stand in his kitchen and peer into those bright green eyes, feeling the connection between us reverberate in the air, it’s hard to remember why it didn’t work out.
“I owe you an explanation,” I say, realizing I’ve never given him a reason for being here.
“You really don’t.”
“No, but I do.” I move across the room to put some distance between us. Only when we’re more than a few feet apart can I breathe again. “And I want you to know that it was really brazen of me touse the key to get in your house.” I return his grin. “Andit was even kinder of you to have been as sweet to me as you have.”
“Let me ask you this,” he says, smirking. “What would you have done if you had broken in here and my wife was in my bed?”
“I would have questions.”
“Such as?”
My grin grows. “I would’ve asked you why you never showed pictures of your wife on social media.”
His loud laughter fills the room.
