The Unexpected Everything(62)

“Yeah. She was a freshman at Colorado College, and I was living in Colorado Springs, so we started dating. But when school ended for the year, she said she wanted to explore life’s possibilities. That’s a direct quote, by the way.”

I made a face, and Clark laughed. “But I thought you said you lived way out in the woods. Near Wisconsin?”

“Wyoming.”

“Right.”

“That’s where my parents live,” Clark said. “It . . . I moved out last year and got my own place. It just seemed easier.”

I nodded, even though I had a feeling there was a lot to this story that I wasn’t getting. I was about to remark about how strange it was that he lived on his own, when I realized that was what he was doing now. And if he’d followed the usual path, he’d be going to college. So maybe it wasn’t that weird. But even so, I could feel a slight envious twinge in my stomach, thinking about this college freshman girl who had been Clark’s girlfriend, whoever and wherever she was. “And now you’re here.” I yawned hugely again.

“That I am.”

I looked over at him in the moonlight. This should have been strange—sleeping next to a cute guy, with a large dog snoring between us—but for some reason, it really wasn’t. Maybe because we were both pretending we weren’t really going to sleep. Or maybe I was too tired to feel awkward and had used my embarrassment quotient up with the dog vomit.

“Get some sleep,” Clark said, even though he sounded like he was going to drop off at any moment. “I’ll stay up and watch Bert.”

“No, I can,” I said, but even I could hear how unconvincing this was, as my eyelids started to close.

“I’ve got this,” he said. The quiet of the night took over the room, punctuated only by Bertie’s breathing and the occasional snore. “Night, Andie.”

I opened my eyes and looked over at him to see that he was sitting up like he’d said he would be, watching Bert, albeit while covering his mouth as he yawned. “Hey,” I said, and he looked over at me, his expression open, absolutely nothing hiding behind it. He’d looked that way at the restaurant, too, I realized now. I just hadn’t let myself see it.

“Hey,” he said, a question in his voice.

“I just . . . ,” I started. “You asked me before about my mom.” Clark nodded, but I could feel how still he’d gotten otherwise, like he wasn’t going to do or say anything to stop me. I took a big, shaky breath and made myself go on. “She died of ovarian cancer five years ago. They thought they got it in time. But they didn’t.” The words hung between us for a moment, and there were tears somewhere behind my eyes, and I knew when I closed them again, they would slip out, that I would be too tired to fight to keep them back.

“Thank you for telling me,” Clark said, his voice quiet. Silence fell again, and I was about to let my eyes close, sleep a bit, when he spoke again. “I . . . I actually am not just tinkering with my book,” he said slowly, and I could hear the hesitation in his voice—like maybe he hadn’t told all that many people this. He took a breath and let it out. “I can’t write anymore. I haven’t written a single word in the last three years.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, and Clark nodded. A comfortable silence fell between us—like this was just the beginning. Like we’d have a lot more time to talk about this. And with that thought running through my mind, I turned onto my side and let my eyes drift closed.

? ? ?

I jolted awake, looking around the room, momentarily baffled as to where I was. There was faint, early-morning sunlight streaming through the window. After a few seconds I remembered where I was—in the laundry room at Clark’s house. I picked up my phone to see the time, but when the screen remained black, I realized it must have died at some point during the night. It took a moment for me to notice that I was alone—both Clark and the dog were gone.

I scrambled to my feet, my heart racing. If something had happened to Bertie, Clark would have woken me up. I was pretty sure of that. But that didn’t stop me from running toward the kitchen, nearly tripping on the bottom of the sweatpants, which were a few inches longer than I was used to. “Clark?” I called, trying to tell myself not to panic, that things were fine.

I skidded into the kitchen to see Clark leaning against the counter, a small smile on his face, his hair sticking up in the back. “Hey,” I said, and Clark nodded toward the corner of the room.

I turned and saw Bertie—standing up, eating from his food dish. Not with the same gusto that he normally did, but it was clear that at some point during the night he’d gotten through the worst of this. I let out a long breath, one I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

It didn’t take long after that for me to gather my things and head out. I knew I could have stayed, but I somehow didn’t want to push the moment we’d had together. I wanted to go home and think about the night and try to understand it—which was made more difficult because I hadn’t had a night like that before, ever.

“So you’ll be okay, right?” I asked ten minutes later, as Clark walked me out to my car. I was still wearing his T-shirt and sweatpants and carrying the bag with my dress in it. I knew I was going to have to face it at some point, but I didn’t feel up to it quite yet.