Our Little Secret(36)
“Do you think he married her because she’s pregnant?”
“Would there be any other reason?” He reached over and got rid of the wineglass, depositing it on a tall-legged coffee table. “I mean, aside from the years he can look forward to jogging or eating kale?”
“Do you think he loves her?”
“No. I think he loves you and got her.”
I plucked at the stitching in the upholstery. “You talk like it’s food in a diner. But if the order’s wrong, why wouldn’t he send it back?”
“Because some men are like that: they have to taste what’s in front of them, and before they know it they’ve eaten too much and have to pay for it.” Freddy sniffed the fabric of the sofa. “My jacket is going to need a dry clean. Are there cats in this house?” He clicked his fingers a few times, demanding my focus. “Angela, I want you to know that I would never get the order wrong in the diner. The obvious truth here, my darling, is that you are not diner fare.” He waited.
“Let’s get out of here.” I pushed myself up from the chair. “This whole town, I mean.”
“That’s the spirit.” We left the sunroom and when we moved through the kitchen, HP was there. Freddy walked straight past him into the living room. HP and I were alone.
“Little John.” HP took two big steps towards me, playing with the gold ring on his hand. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak with you much while I was over in Oz . . . it kind of got . . . it’s been crazy hectic lately, I kind of feel like my head is spinning.”
“Wait till the baby’s on the outside. I hear that gets busy.”
He blinked. “It’s not a shotgun wedding, you know.”
“Okay.”
“She’s only a little more than a month along. And I didn’t think we were telling people.” His collar looked tight as he reefed at it. “It wasn’t planned, sure, but maybe it’s just about, you know, getting to a place faster than you’d meant to.”
He was babbling.
“You play the cards you’re dealt. Everyone does.” His voice was rising.
“I thought there was always a chance to get a new hand,” I said.
His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, LJ. Fuck, I know I’ve hurt you. I know that’s why you’re . . . being like this.” His eyes were deep and dark like nighttime. Like the skies we used to sleep under in the bed of his truck. “But honestly, my heart broke, too, somewhere along the way.”
I felt my ribs contract. If I moved too quickly, I knew I’d sob. Meanwhile, HP looked like he was going to reach out and hug me.
“I didn’t even think we were done, and then you’re suddenly overseas, and then getting married. And now . . . this. It’s just . . . a lot to take in.” We weren’t touching but in the gap between us, a hum of connection surged. I was sure he felt it, too.
“Not to say anything bad about Saskia. I’m not—you know—speaking badly of her.” He sighed. “But you and me—if this had all been the other way around and you’d done this to me, I know for sure I’d have kicked that guy’s ass.”
“Who’s to say I won’t kick hers?”
We laughed, oh ha ha ha.
“It’s good to talk to you, LJ. I want us to be in each other’s lives. We grew up together—it means something. And you’re my first love. That’s forever. That’s set in stone.”
I looked down at the floor tiles. “You know, I don’t want you to call me LJ anymore, or Little John. I’m going with Angela from now on.”
“Really?” He frowned. “I don’t think Angela’s you.”
The front door swung open and Mrs. Parker walked into the house carrying two halves of a broken wineglass. Her index finger dripped blood.
HP sprang forwards and grabbed some paper towels from the roll on the counter.
“So silly,” Mrs. Parker said, her head fluttering. “I was just picking up the pieces and one of them sliced me.” HP pressed the towel to her finger and guided her to the sink. “How are you?”
It took me a second to understand she was speaking to me.
“Oh, okay.” I cleared my throat. “It’s a nice party.”
Mrs. Parker glanced at me, with meaning. “Well done for coming.”
“I was just leaving, actually. But thank you. It’s always good to see you, Mrs. Parker.”
She wrapped the towel around her finger and kissed her son’s cheek, then touched my face softly as well with her one good hand. “I’ll leave you to your chat.”
The kitchen felt awkward once she’d left. Neither HP nor I could make eye contact.
“I should go,” I said.
HP turned and swept me into a hug with such force that it lifted me onto my tiptoes. His entire frame held me up, braced me: if I’d relaxed every muscle in my body, I wouldn’t have slumped an inch.
And that’s what Novak’s not getting, what he doesn’t see. It’s not about the drinks HP didn’t buy me or the hours he spent on his own. It’s about who your soul mate is. Ask HP’s mom. Even she knows. Guys like HP hug like that to tell you something. Something that means forever.