Weather Girl(69)



“The dad jokes. They hurt me.” Elodie tosses her script on the sofa cushion between us. “Did sports win?”

“By a landslide.” He turns to me with a gleam in his eye. “Do you see how she belittles what I do for work? The thing that puts slightly charred caramel popcorn on the table?”

This way they joke around with each other does something to my heart, too. There’s a layer of nostalgia there—a pang, really. If I ever had this with my mother, I don’t remember it.

“You just about ready for bed?” Russell asks.

Elodie gives the staircase a prolonged glance, her shoulders drooping. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about first.”

I get to my feet, fiddling with the strap on my bag. “I should go.”

“No, you don’t have to!” Elodie must realize she says this a little too quickly, a little too loudly. “I mean. I’m the one who dragged you into this scheme.”

Russell stares between the two of us, looking deeply confused. “Scheme?”

“I’ll just, um, wait down here,” I say, settling back on the couch.

“Night, Ari.” Elodie gives me a quick squeeze. “Thank you,” she says into my ear.

She and Russell disappear upstairs while I sit awkwardly in the living room, answering a few work emails.

About fifteen minutes later, Russell comes back down, looking even more exhausted.

“So that was . . . a lot.” He sinks down into the armchair opposite the couch, runs a hand over his stubbled face. “I can’t believe she felt she needed to hide her period from us. We’ve always encouraged her to come to us about anything, and we’ve tried to be as open as we can with her. Our parents were so old-fashioned that we were terrified to go to them when Liv got pregnant. I never had a sex talk—I think they were shocked I even knew what sex was.”

“My mom was like that, too. I had to rely on Google for most of the finer details.”

“I guess the best we can do is make it better for our kids, if we have them. We can’t perfectly time these things.” A self-deprecating laugh. “I should know. Sometimes I think parenting is a combination of doing things the opposite of how you were raised, mixed with doing things exactly how you were raised and worrying that you’re becoming your parents.”

“Elodie clearly adores you,” I say, and he softens at that. “And your dad joke game is A-plus.”

“That’s one part of parenthood that’s come to me shockingly easily.” He leans forward, dropping his hand to my knee. “I’m really glad you were here, though. I owe you one.”

“Of course. I loved spending time with her.”

That guarded expression falls back across his face. I can tell he wants to collapse, and I wish I didn’t want to do it next to him so badly. I don’t know what his room looks like, but I bet it’s neat and organized, nothing out of place. I bet the bed is cozy. That’s all I want in this moment—to go to sleep and wake up next to him.

Even though I know I can’t.

“I should probably go call Liv. El told me she’d rather I do it, so she only has to tell one of us, though I told her there’s no way her mom won’t want to talk about it with her.”

“And I should head out. Sorry for staying this long.”

“Don’t apologize. Thank you. For staying. For all of it.” He leans in for a soft kiss, his nose bumping mine. When I reach up to drag a hand through his hair, he’s already pulled away.

Suddenly I feel like I might cry. Jesus. I should be stronger than this. I shouldn’t be wondering where I fit. They’re already a family—they’ve been one for years, and while I don’t want to think about my relationship with Russell ending, they’ll be one long after I’ve left his life. “I’ll see you at work on Monday?”

“Monday,” he says, and kisses me again, smoothing some of my hair behind one ear.

When I close the door, I try not to think about how badly I want to be on the other side of it.





24




FORECAST:

Flood watch issued as new revelations burst forth

“I FEEL LIKE the cool quarterback just asked me out,” I tell Russell Thursday evening. “And I’m the girl who no one notices until she takes her hair out of a ponytail, and then she’s suddenly beautiful.”

“I’m getting the feeling you’re more nervous about this date with our bosses than you were on our first date,” Russell says. “Which is fine, because I am, too.”

We were surprised when Torrance and Seth asked us on this double date—her treat, as a way of expressing her gratitude for my staying at the hospital with her. A few weeks ago, we’d have meticulously engineered something like this. Now the Hales are doing it all on their own.

Russell stopped by to pick me up, and I may have had ulterior motives for inviting him upstairs. Namely, wanting to properly kiss him a few times before we meet up with Torrance and Seth. He waits on the couch while I rummage around my dresser for a few accessories, insisting I don’t need any help. Miraculously, I was able to attach a jeweled tulip brooch to my black halter dress with one hand.

“It’s a different kind of nervous.” I extricate an earring from beneath my bed, a twist of wire coiled in the shape of a tornado. “And only because you’re about twelve times less frightening than she is.”

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