Good for You: A Novel (62)

He’d just needed to blow off steam, she decided. After months of being by himself, he wasn’t used to having a house full of people. There was nothing to worry about. She was doubly heartened when he tiptoed to her room that night. But his mind seemed to be elsewhere as he made love to her, which made it hard for her to enjoy herself (though a so-so night with Wyatt still beat her best night with anyone else she’d slept with).

“Where did you go earlier?” she whispered to him afterward. “And where are you always disappearing to?”

“I just need to be alone sometimes,” he said vaguely.

This was not an actual answer, she thought with frustration, though she didn’t push him on it. And to her dismay, he’d slunk back to his room when it was over.

As she fell asleep with one arm extended to the side of the bed where Wyatt had slept the past several nights, she made a note to clear the air between them as soon as Harry left. She was willing to apologize, even if she’d done nothing wrong. And if that wasn’t enough to appease Wyatt, then so be it. She wasn’t ready to end this thing they had going—not just yet. But the fact was, it had to come to an end.

Everything did.





THIRTY-TWO


For once, Aly got up before Wyatt, and she brewed the coffee. It wasn’t very good, but at least she was proving her self-sufficiency. After all, she would be alone again as soon as she returned to New York. Best to get used to that sooner rather than later.

Before long, Tim and Harry, with Beckett in tow, came clambering down the stairs; Wyatt, rumpled and sleepy eyed, followed. After rushing through toast and dark roast, Tim declared it was time to set out, so they could make the majority of the drive during Beckett’s morning nap.

“That went way too fast,” Harry said to Aly as Tim loaded Beckett into the car.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, embracing him. “I miss you already.”

“Me, too, babe. Me, too.” He looked over Aly’s shoulder at Wyatt, who’d just finished filling the dishwasher with their plates and mugs. “Why don’t you two come visit us in Chicago? This summer is lighter than usual for me, and Beckett is finally starting to sleep through the night.”

Wyatt smiled. “I’m kind of trying to steer clear of Chi-town for now, but I’d love to see you three again soon.”

Aly wished she hadn’t heard him say I rather than we. He was obviously still upset about overhearing her tell Harry she intended to sell and skedaddle. She hadn’t promised him anything other than the house for the summer. Why was he being like this?

“Wyatt!” said Tim, who’d just come back inside. “Before I forget, I found this in the drawer of the bedside table.” He handed Wyatt a plain white envelope.

Wyatt shoved the envelope in his back pocket, though not before Aly recognized the handwriting scrawled across it. But . . . why would Luke leave a letter for Wyatt here?

“Thanks,” he said. He glanced at Aly, but he quickly turned away when he saw she was looking at him. “Knowing Luke, it’s probably cash he thought he owed me for drinks or something,” he mumbled.

Aly nodded, but she wouldn’t be thrown off course so easily. After she and Wyatt hugged Tim and Harry one more time and waved from the end of the driveway as they headed down the road, she turned to him. “What’s in the letter?”

He cleared his throat, then said, “Well, since I haven’t opened it yet, I have no idea.”

“When are you going to?” She knew she was being pushy, but this was her brother they were taking about.

“Would you like me to read it to you before I have a chance to see for myself?”

“Yes,” she said.

“That was sarcasm,” he said, starting for the house.

He was walking fast—fast enough that she couldn’t catch up. “Wyatt,” she called from behind. “What are you trying to hide?”

“Again, how can I be hiding something I haven’t read yet?” he said over his shoulder.

“You at least owe it to me to tell me why you’re being cagey.”

He spun around. “Owe it to you? Is that how you think of our relationship?”

“Actually, it’s how you do.” She was beginning to feel lightheaded, and her limbs felt kind of tingly, too. “You’re the one who said you owed me for letting you stay this summer—remember? And I guess on this one count, yes. I do feel like you owe me.”

But as she saw his face twist with confusion, and then watched his lips purse as he remembered what he’d said to her, she realized she didn’t want to fight with him. Not when they already had so little time left together. Not ever, but especially not now, right before she was leaving. “I hate this,” she said. “Can we please stop?”

“‘This’? You mean being here with me? Because given what I heard you say at the beach yesterday, you’re eager to get out of here as fast as you can,” he said.

And there it was. “I knew it,” she muttered. “I knew you overheard me and Harry. You didn’t even get the whole conversation—you’re upset based on one tiny part you overheard.”

“Can you blame me? I don’t need to hear the whole thing to get the gist of what you were saying.”

“And what’s that?”