Good for You: A Novel (30)

But what most enraged Aly was that her mother wanted to return to the time when her husband had unloaded all of his frustrations on his own children.

“Hey, Aly,” said Wyatt, strolling in through the side door.

Aly startled. He was smiling like a crazy person, or at least someone who seemed thrilled to see her. Then he put his arm around her, and despite her incredulity, Aly somehow knew not to turn and address him like the nutter he obviously was.

“Didn’t know we had company,” said Cindy, addressing Aly.

“This must be your mom,” he said, pulling Aly in closer. She barely reached his armpit, but suddenly she didn’t hate feeling so small—not when Wyatt was a giant human shield. She looked up at him, at once grateful and questioning.

“Play along,” he mouthed.

“I am her mom,” said Cindy, and Aly couldn’t tell if she was proud or irritated—probably both. She glanced at Aly. “What happened to . . .”

It was not lost on Aly that even after three years of dating, her mother could not remember Seth’s name. She hadn’t liked to involve Cindy in her personal business—but still. Had everyone but Aly recognized that she and Seth were not built to last? “We broke up.”

Cindy swapped her frown for a smile as she turned back to Wyatt. “And you are . . . ?”

“Wyatt,” he said, extending one hand without letting go of Aly. “Wyatt Goldstein.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Wyatt,” said Cindy, who was now clearly charmed. “I’m Cindy.”

“I take it Aly didn’t tell you about me?” Wyatt glanced down at Aly with a bemused look. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said, touching the tip of her nose with his finger.

In spite of herself, she laughed—she wasn’t the only one who was full of surprises.

“If I’d known you were here, I wouldn’t have barged in,” Cindy said to him apologetically. “I just had no idea.”

“Oh, it’s pretty new,” said Wyatt.

“Very new,” said Aly.

“And yet you’re living here together,” said Cindy, who didn’t appear to disapprove.

“When you know, you know,” said Wyatt.

Aly could feel heat rising to her face. He was taking this a little too far.

“You want to wait to take a nap?” he said, winking at her mischievously before looking back at Cindy.

“Oh. Well,” said Cindy, looking back and forth between them again, “I don’t mean to interrupt. Allegra . . .”

“Who’s Allegra?” said Wyatt, winking again at Aly, whose stomach backflipped in response.

“I meant Aly,” said Cindy quickly. “Maybe the three of us can do dinner or something.”

Aly stiffened; the relief she’d just felt immediately revealed itself as an illusion. “I’ll call you, Mom,” she said woodenly.

“Please do,” Cindy practically twittered as she made her way to the door. “Because I want to hear more about you, Wyatt. Aly’s been quiet as a church mouse about you. Last I heard she was dating some suit in the big city. You’re a breath of fresh air is what you are.”

“Thanks—I get that a lot,” said Wyatt, smiling beatifically at her as she stepped onto the stone path leading to the driveway. “Bye now, Cindy,” he said, closing the door.

“What was that?” said Aly, staring at him with newfound reverence. “And who even are you? I had no idea you were capable of snake-charming.”

“That was me making sure that your mother didn’t wiggle her way into an endless overnighter,” said Wyatt matter-of-factly.

“But how did you know . . .” That I can’t stand to be around her for more than a few minutes, she added mentally. That her face reminds me of the worst part of my life. That my own mother triggers me and makes me feel like I’m ten again, hiding under my bed listening to my father holler about what he’s going to do to me once he finds me and knowing she’s sitting in the next room and doesn’t care.

“Luke and I were close, Aly,” he said quietly. This simple sentence told her everything. He knew about their childhood. He’d known all along. “I’ve actually met your mother before, when I came out here to see Luke’s new house. I could tell from her expression she didn’t recall it. Makes sense—she was a bit tipsy at the time,” he added. “I figured I’d use that to our advantage to get her out of here.”

For once, Aly didn’t feel embarrassed that someone had seen her mother drunk. Maybe because he didn’t seem to be judging her for it. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” He was doing the no-blinking thing again. But why? This—this kindness, it was the opposite of a power play; Aly could not pretend otherwise. “I owe you for letting me stay the summer,” he said.

“Right,” she said. But she hadn’t remembered that, and she wished he hadn’t said it. As she excused herself and practically ran up the stairs to her room, she was awash with confusion. She didn’t need Wyatt. She didn’t even really like him.

And yet she was desperate to hit the invisible “Rewind” button in the sky and return to the moment in which she believed he’d done something nice for her—not because he owed her, but simply because he wanted to.