The Husband Hour(80)

Even though Lauren had set her alarm to go running, she felt oddly unmotivated. Instead of running clothes, she put on a bathing suit, then grabbed a towel from the hallway linen closet and walked to the kitchen. She’d barely reached the coffeemaker when she heard the splashing and laughter coming from the pool.

She looked out the sliding-glass doors and saw Stephanie standing in the shallow end with Ethan, Neil Hanes sitting close by on the pool ledge. Well, good for her, Lauren thought. At least she was paying attention to Ethan. And it probably didn’t hurt for him to have a man around. Lauren spent as much time with him as she could, but it was clear the kid was lonely.

She watched him get out of the pool, take a running jump in, and splash Stephanie, who squealed with delight. Ethan spotted Lauren watching through the door and waved. She waved back. He climbed out of the pool again and ran over; he had to use both hands and his body weight to pull open the door.

“Come swimming, Aunt Lauren!” he said, breathless.

“Um, maybe later. It looks like you’ve got enough company out there. Go on—have fun with your mom.”

“I want you,” he said, grabbing her arm with his little wet, water-pruned hand. She glanced outside and caught Stephanie’s eye. Stephanie gestured impatiently, like Just come out.

It was pushing ninety degrees on the deck and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. The water was enticing. The company? Not so much.

“Hey there, nice to see you, Lauren,” Neil said, standing up to greet her. For a second it seemed he was going to try to kiss her cheek in greeting, but she stepped back. She realized in that moment that she didn’t like Neil Hanes. There was no particular reason for it; he was nice enough, and she didn’t hold it against him that he’d bounced from being interested in her to being interested in Stephanie. There was just something about the way he was always showing up that set her on edge.

“We’re going to play Marco Polo,” Neil said. “Now that you’re here, we have an even number and can do teams.”

“I’m just going to watch,” she said.

“Aunt Lauren!” Ethan called, throwing her a beach ball. She caught it, and the feel of wet plastic pumped with air brought her back to the time when she and Stephanie had been children in that pool, when their grandmother used to sit on the steps in the shallow end, white-nosed with zinc oxide, and admonish them for swimming too soon after eating.

She tossed it back to him.

“Come on, Lauren. You seem game-ready to me,” Neil said.

Lauren ignored him and arranged her towel on one of the chaise longues.

“With four people we could have a chicken fight,” Stephanie said, already climbing onto Neil’s shoulders. “Ethan, you get on Aunt Lauren’s shoulders.”

So typical of Stephanie. She was surprised Stephanie hadn’t broken out the Woody’s vodka coolers like she used to do in high school. Lauren, not wanting to be the most epic bad sport of all time, waded into the pool and lowered herself so Ethan could get onto her shoulders. She put her hands on his thighs, making sure he was secure.

“Hold on to me with your legs—just try not to strangle me,” she said.

“Come and get me!” Stephanie said to him, holding a fluorescent green noodle and bopping him on the head with it. Ethan laughed.

“Aunt Lauren, can you get me the yellow one?”

Lauren reached for the wet, spongy plastic and handed it to Ethan. Armed, he and Stephanie jousted while Lauren and Neil stood facing each other, bolstering the dueling mother and son. Neil, maybe tiring of his purely functional role, launched Stephanie off of his shoulders into the deep end.

“I win!” Ethan said. Lauren eased him off her shoulders and swam with him to the shallowest spot. Then she felt, more than saw, someone watching them.

“Sorry to intrude,” Matt said. He was wearing cargo shorts and an NYU T-shirt.

She started to say, You’re not intruding, but he was. And besides, she was too unnerved by how happy she was to see him to bother with politesse.

“The door is open,” she said, glancing toward the deep end at an oblivious Stephanie and Neil, frolicking like teenagers. “Go in the house and I’ll be right there.”

She climbed out of the pool, quickly wrapped herself in a towel, and told Ethan to sit on the steps. “Hey,” she called out to Stephanie. “I have to run inside. Watch Ethan.”

Matt leaned against the kitchen counter next to a pile of handwritten doughnut recipes her mother had left out. “Who’s the chef?” he said.

“My mother. Remember the doughnuts on the Fourth of July?”

“That’s right. I forgot. Look, I’m sorry to barge in on you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with…last night.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine. It’s…we’re good,” she said.

“That’s a relief.” He smiled at her and they fell into an awkward silence. “Well, I should get going.”

“Do you want some coffee or anything to eat? I mean, you’re here anyway. And we’re in the kitchen,” she said lamely.

“Thanks, but I have to do some editing. My producer is coming out to see me today.”

His producer. The film wasn’t just Matt’s project; other people were involved. The world would see it. This was happening.