Page 78 of Three Pucking Words
“I’ll send some of it back with Joe and Helen,” he tells me, watching as they entertain Gemma by the large slide set up on a stack of haybales. “Are you having fun?”
Fall is one of my favorite times of year. The weather is nicer, which means less boob sweat and leg chafing. I can layer up in jeans and sweatshirts without boiling alive. And there’s nothing quite like the ambiance of yellows, oranges, and reds littering the trees. It’s a beautiful season.
“I am,” I tell him, smiling as I watch Gemma slide down to her grandpa and then giggle as he chases her back to the ladder that leads up to the top so she can do it again. “One of the things I missed about living in New York was the fall colors. Chicago had them too, obviously, but it felt…different.”
It’s hard to explain to him. I’m not sure I even understand it myself. But New York, despite how excited I was to get away from it, was always home to me. It was a place I missed. A place I enjoyed visiting when I lived in Illinois with Max. I thought being back would be a hard blow, but it’s not.
“I like Chicago,” Bodhi tells me, no longer watching his daughter, but me. His eyes scan my face. “It’s hard to believe we were there at the same time during the season. Do you think we ever crossed paths?”
My mouth goes dry, and it’s hard to swallow.
He shakes his head. “I would have remembered you,” he says, more to himself than to me.
It’s a punch to the gut.
Because we did cross paths.
We did more than that.
We sat at a table in a crowded bar and talked forhours. He asked me questions. He vented. He flirted.“Hard to believe an attractive girl like you is here alone,”were his exact words. They were slurred, but bold as his eyes roamed over the top half of me that he could see over the tabletop. To which my reply was,“I’m not here alone.”
I’d felt guilty for not turning down his compliments, and for flirting back. It’d been innocent enough, but I was married. I shouldn’t have spent so much time with a man who wasn’t my husband. As soon as he locked in on me, I should have told him I was married, hailed a cab, and went home.
But I didn’t.
I would have remembered you.
Inevitably not.
Wetting my lips, I say, “Bodhi, I think I should tell you something. I—”
“Daddy!” Gemma bellows, running at full speed to her father and giving him barely enough time to catch her when she lunges for his arms. “I hate boys. They won’t let me play with them and their toys in the corn pit.”
Bodhi’s arms cradle the little girl with a caring, protective expression on his face. “Do you want me to talk to them? I’m sure we can get them to share their toys.”
She buries her face in the crook of his neck but shakes her head.
He rubs her back and looks at me apologetically. “I think she’s ready to go home.”
Joe and Helen join us, looking sympathetically at their granddaughter.
“She’s getting tired,” Helen agrees, brushing hair away from Gemma’s face. After we make our way to our vehicle, Helen turns to me and sticks her hand out. “It was lovely to meet you, Honor. I’m sure we’ll see you around. I’d love to hear more about your photography. I have family looking to hire someone for a wedding next year.”
Surprise has me blinking. “Oh.” For a moment, I don’t know what to say. Helen asked me how I liked working for the team, and we started talking about art. Apparently, she’s an avid collector of paintings. While it’s a different medium than what I do, it’s nice speaking about something I don’t often talk about. “I’d love to talk more about it next time.”
I don’t know when next time is, or if they’ll even be one. They seem to be sure that there will be, but they’re probably except to see me at games.
I take her hand with a smile that’s much less anxious than when I first shook her hand. “It was great meeting you too. Thank you for letting me tagalong with you guys.”
Helen and Joe share an amused look.
It’s Joe who says, “Anytime.”
They say their goodbyes to Gemma, who looks seconds away from falling asleep. I feel her. This is the first day I’ve been out and about since getting sick, and the fatigue is still lingering.
When we’re on our way home, Gemma talks about what shape she’s going to carve into her pumpkin. Apparently, last year was a cat. This year, she wants to carve out a dog. She falls asleep petting Puck, her hand resting on his side as we drive down the interstate.
“Still glad you came?” Bodhi asks.
