Page 56 of The Troublemaker

“That was very thoughtful of you,” he said.

She knew he meant it. He was old-fashioned and charming and in some ways he reminded her of her dad. It wasn’t just the tweed.

“If you want to go out instead this will save.”

“No, not at all. I’d rather stay in.”

She smiled. “Oh. Good.”

“I brought Ticket to Ride. The game we talked about.”

“Oh! Great. We can eat and then play.”

She could feel herself finding her footing with him. It was strange to have him here. He didn’t quite fill up her house the way that Lachlan did. Lachlan’s broad shoulders and height made her kitchen look tiny. Byron seemed to fit in it perfectly.

“Dinner smells delicious,” he said, washing his hands in such a way that she could almost hear him humming “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to himself.

She smiled.

Then he dried his hands on the tea towel that hung over the stove and came to sit at the table. He looked at her, his brown eyes deeply sympathetic all of a sudden. “How have you been coping?”

Her heart squeezed tight. “It depends on the day.”

“Your dad was a wonderful man, Charity. I’m so sorry that you lost him.”

“Me, too.”

“I wish I could’ve come for his funeral. I’m sorry that I was unable to get away from the practice.”

“It’s okay. I had...” For some reason she was reluctant to say Lachlan’s name and she shouldn’t be. Byron knew full well that Lachlan was her best friend. That they had a very close relationship, and it was one that was important to her. “Lachlan has done a very good job of taking care of me.”

She wondered if she had been right the first time. Thinking that maybe she shouldn’t mention it. Because his expression did something strange.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Except she wasn’t sure that he was. The words were tight, and so was his mouth.

The timer dinged, and she got the chicken out of the oven. She had also made some rolls—well, she had opened up a can of dough and baked them quickly—and some green beans.

She had made gravy for the chicken, which was rich and all very simple and homestyle, which was something she knew Byron appreciated.

She eyed him expectantly as he took his first bite of chicken.

“Delicious,” he said.

This was the kind of thing they would do when they were husband and wife. She would make dinner. He would eat it. Maybe sometimes he would make dinner. She didn’t really know how marriage worked. She had never seen one up close. She’d seen them on TV, of course. But they were either idealized, or ridiculously dysfunctional, and she wasn’t silly enough to believe in the idealized version, or masochistic enough to want the disaster. “So you said Lachlan has been taking care of you?”

“Yes,” she said. “You know...he knew my dad very well. And we’ve been friends for so long... He’s just making sure that I’m not alone. Making sure to help when I’m feeling sort of low...”

“That’s very nice of him.” The way that he said it, again, and that tone, made her think that he didn’t actually feel that way. Was he jealous? She’d been certain that they had the kind of relationship that didn’t include jealousy. But she was questioning that now.

“Lachlan is getting married,” she said.

“Really?” That seemed to make Byron a little bit happier.

“Yes. Well. He hasn’t...exactly settled on a person yet. But he is intent on settling down. Reforming.”

“Reforming?”

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