Page 80 of Penelope in Retrograde

“You’re serious?”

“About the heater? Of course.” He smiles and gives me a wink. “What do you say, Banks? If it makes a difference, I’ve got gas station doughnuts. I don’t think they’re as good as my pie would’ve been, but I’ve never been unhappy with one in my mouth.”

“You should’ve led with that, Butler.” I take his hand in mine. “Everyone knows that a woman of questionable morals can’t resist a good gas station doughnut.”

“You’re a woman of questionable morals?”

“All the best women are.”

Martin’s neighborhood is charming and quaint. It has a Stars Hollow vibe to it with strands of white twinkle lights hung throughout. There’s a smattering of mobiles that have probably been there since the park first opened in the eighties, along with some more modern tiny-house structures. His home is a cross between new and old. It’s a refurbished Airstream trailer with a wooden deck built around it.

“Home sweet home.” Martin flips a switch on the deck, illuminating two strands of Edison bulbs that span its length. “This is my little slice of Kentucky here in California.”

“All this time you could’ve just gone home and escaped my family’s shenanigans.” I run my hand along the knotted pine railing. “This is beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks.” He turns on a metal heat lamp between two wooden rocking chairs. “You and Ozzie have a seat. This will warm you up in no time.”

“When you said you had a heater, I assumed you meant inside,” I tease.

“You know what they say about assuming.”

“Touché.”

“And your family isn’t so bad, Banks. They’re just people.” He unlocks the door to the Airstream. “I’m going to grab us the doughnuts. You want something to drink too? Coffee? Beer?”

“Coffee,” I say. “Maybe with a little Baileys if you’ve got it.”

“I do.”

I rest my head on the back of the rocking chair, pushing it back and forth with my heels. The warmth from the heater radiates across my face, melting the frozen tips of my ears and nose. It’s quiet out here. The park is guarded by a natural barrier of evergreens and bougainvillea bushes. It cuts out what little street noise there is and almost makes you forget that there’s an entire ocean a mile away. It really is a little slice of Kentucky.

“Dessert is served.” He carries a wooden cutting board with two cups of coffee and an arrangement of chocolate-frosted and powdered doughnuts in the center. “The powdered doughnuts have more of a biscotti texture at this point, ideal for dunking in coffee.”

“Is that a nice way of saying you’re serving me stale gas station doughnuts?” I take a white mug and hold it to my chest.

“Maybe.” He smiles and eases into the chair next to me. “Or maybe it’s my way to hoard the powdered doughnuts for myself because they’re my favorite.”

“Is this where you snuck off to yesterday morning?” I take a bite of chocolate-frosted doughnut. “Because I would’ve. In fact, I’m pissed at you for not telling me about this place sooner. Think of all the arguments I could’ve avoided.”

“But where would be the fun in that?” He sips his coffee. “And no, I didn’t come here yesterday morning. I had a phone call.”

“From who?”

“Family.” He tilts his head back and gazes up at the stars. “I have a son back in Kentucky.”

“Oh.”

“His name is Logan. He’s twelve.”

“Twelve. Wow.”

“I was nineteen when his mother got pregnant. Twenty when she had him.” He slowly exhales, his breath visible in the cool night air. “She was older. Twenty-five or so, and she was married. Before you ask, the answer is yes. Yes, I knew she was married. I was young and stupid and thought I was in love.”

“That must’ve been hard,” I say.

“I don’t usually tell people that. I usually just lie and say we had a one-night stand or something. It spares me the awkward looks that usually come with admitting you slept with a married woman.”

“Why are you telling me the truth?”

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