Weather Girl(35)

“Hope so.” Russell scrapes a hand across his chin, no longer making eye contact with any of us. “Well. Since I didn’t intend on hosting a party today . . .”

Liv gazes around at our motley crew. “Oh my. I fear we’ve overwhelmed poor Ari. I’m so sorry. We’re a bit overly friendly in this family.”

“As long as a Saint Bernard doesn’t barge in here next or anything,” I joke.

“Don’t worry, we left him in the car!” she says, and I’m not sure whether she’s kidding.

“Found it!” Elodie calls, bounding down the steps. When she lands with a soft thump, she surveys us like we’re a mildly interesting TV show Netflix has asked if she’s still watching. “Why are you all just standing here?”

“Great question.” Russell ruffles a hand through her hair and slides up one strap of her backpack that’s fallen down. “We’re on a schedule, too. Enjoy your weekend, I love you, don’t forget to actually wear that retainer.”

Elodie pats the front of her backpack. “I’m sure you’ll barely have time to miss me.”



* * *



? ? ?

THE FIRST FIFTEEN minutes of our drive are silent, except for a few seconds when the audiobook I was listening to starts up, and I have to smack the power button because I’m fairly certain my romance novel was heading toward a sex scene.

“So, um. That was a little . . .” I fiddle with the wrapper of one of three strawberry fruit leathers I brought on the trip, none of which sound appetizing.

“Awkward?” he supplies, then forces a laugh. “Just a bit.”

“Liv is your ex-wife?”

“We were never married, actually.” He stares out the window. “I wasn’t trying to keep them a secret or anything. It’s . . . complicated.”

But he doesn’t elaborate on precisely how it’s complicated, and I’m not about to probe him for answers. I’m not sure where I would start. So . . . okay then. That’s that.

It’s only when we hit Everett traffic that he turns to me, as though we’ve left all that weirdness in Seattle.

“I booked a massage for Seth this evening, only he won’t know it’s really a couple’s massage,” Russell says. “He’s always complaining about his back, and especially after a long drive, it seemed like just the thing.”

“Perfect. And I signed all of us up for zip-lining tomorrow.” If reality TV has taught me anything, there’s nothing like an adrenaline rush to bring two people together. “Aside from that, I’m going to try to get closer to Torrance. Get to know her better. We know Seth’s side of the story, but we won’t have the full picture until we hear hers.”

“Are we—do you think we’re still doing the right thing here?”

The car inches forward. “What do you mean?”

“What if it was something really terrible that split them up?” he asks. “What if one of them cheated?”

“Hopefully we’ll know more after this weekend.” Again, I think back to what Torrance said at the holiday party. “And we’d draw a line if it got to that point. We can’t make anyone fall in love. All we’re doing is creating an opportunity. I definitely wouldn’t want to push Torrance into something she’s not comfortable with—that’s why it’s so crucial I make progress with her,” I say. “Maybe it’s naive to believe that Seth’s changed, but I want to be naive, damn it. Has he been different with you at work?”

“Different?”

“More attention? Any pro sports?”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m covering a few basketball games next week.”

I brighten. “Russell! That’s great.”

He gives me a half smile, and I feel half better.

“All I want is for them to ride off into the sunset and be together forever,” I continue. “I want to throw them a fiftieth anniversary party. That’s gold, right? I’ll have to sell off an internal organ to get them a massive gold sculpture of themselves, but it’ll be worth it.”

“I’ll chip in,” he says. “I don’t need both kidneys.”

And then we fall into silence again.

Things with Russell don’t return to normal, not when we stop for burritos in Bellingham, not when we wait in border traffic, not when we make it into Canada. The energy around us is charged, not light and easygoing like it usually is. I miss it. We’ve become something close to friends over the past month, and I’m not ready to go back to what we were before, despite this inconvenient crush I have on him.

That’s all it is—a crush, and it will pass. Just like my crush on the guy in the employee cafeteria, who recently shaved his beard. Is there a direct correlation between the end of my crush and the disappearance of the beard? Who’s to say?

Of course, I know the real reason for this strained drive. I met Elodie, and his ex, and his ex’s husband. Even if everyone seemed to get along, I can’t shake the feeling we’ve crossed some line he didn’t want me to cross.

If that’s true, I’m not sure how to uncross it.





12




FORECAST:

An unexpectedly balmy afternoon, clothing optional