Page 70 of The Romantic Agenda
And I’ll say yeah.
He’ll laugh and say, Okay. I’m sorry.
And I’ll say it’s me too.
He’ll ask if I want to talk about it.
She’s almost there. Just not tonight.
But for now, Malcolm takes her wrists and kisses her left palm. He puts her hands down again and says, “Good night, Joy.”
“Night.”
She watches him stand and walk to the door. He pauses there, half in and half out, leaning against the doorframe, saying nothing, but looking at her like he wants to.
She knows that face. She knows all his faces.
But he doesn’t because Malcolm keeps his secrets, same as how Joy keeps hers—right below the surface where they can both see that they’re there but not what they are.
“Off or on?” he asks softly, hand over the light switch.
If Joy is going to be sad, it shouldn’t be on an empty stomach. Rummaging for snacks it is.
Downstairs, she raids the fridge, swiping all the fruit within grabbing distance until her arms are full. She shuts the door with her hip, turning to go back upstairs, when she does a double take. Fox is still outside on the hammock. Alone.
Joy sets her food treasures down on the counter. He might not want company, but it won’t hurt anything to ask. She opens the sliding glass door and softly calls out, “Hey, hey.”
“Joy. Hey.” He props himself up on his elbows, legs bent, and feet planted to keep the hammock steady.
“What are you doing?”
He holds up his phone. “Reading. Thinking. Resting my eyes.”
Joy laughs. “Are you planning to sleep out here?”
“Nah. I’ll go in eventually.”
“Ah. Hold on one second.” Joy dashes back to the counter, grabs a container, and walks outside. “I come bearing pineapple in exchange for company.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Bring pineapple or keep you company?”
“Both. You can sit here for free. You can also go back to bed if you want.”
Joy shakes her head. “Second wind. I’m up now.” She crawls back onto the same spot she had lain on earlier, curling up next to him again. “What were you reading?”
“A memoir. I prefer non-fiction and how-to books, usually.”
“Ah, no torrid romance novels, then? I don’t know why, but I feel like you’d really like those.”
“Recommend me one you like. I’ll give it a try.”
“Deal.” Joy laughs, snuggling closer to him. She rests her head back against the fabric, lids beginning to feel heavy again. Not even five minutes ago, she had felt wide awake and ravenous, but now the sleep that’s been avoiding her seems to want a truce. Yawning, she says, “I really can’t get over how clear the skies are here.”
“On nights when there’s no moon, you can’t even see an inch in front of your face.”
“No thanks. I’ll stay indoors, then.” Joy laughs.
