Do You Take This Man (47)
RJ: Well, obviously someone thinks it, but it’s fine.
Del: I think I’ve read her poetry before. It’s not bad.
Kat: Del! Not the time.
Britta: You are the worst.
RJ: Don’t be mad at Del. He’s majored in every possible thing. I am sure he was in a poetry program for a couple of weeks.
RJ: And I’d hate to see Case end up with a bad poet.
Del: I know it.
I’d brushed off their concerns for a few more minutes and lied, telling them I needed to get into the office. Instead, I’d gone home, showered, and fallen onto my couch, going over and over my relationship with my ex. When that grew tiresome, and after I’d watched the video of his proposal to another woman for the third time, I’d tried to do some actual work, only to get pulled into a bitter divorce case. The vitriol between the couple was cutting and dark, and my mind wandered to asking Case if we should get married, of broaching the subject and his shaking his head, saying he didn’t believe we’d be compatible long-term, that it was too difficult to love me and he didn’t want to commit to having to do it forever. The fact that maybe he was right left me distracted, and I finally closed my laptop, deciding to grab my keys and drive to clear my head.
After an hour of getting lost in the mountains, following random exits, and then tracing my steps back to the interstate, I found myself in a gas station feeling three inches tall and like whatever was going on with Lear, I was ruining it. Not that I wanted to marry Lear. I didn’t even want to talk to Lear most days, but I was realizing Case had found it difficult to care for me, and Lear had fought with that photographer, wanting to protect me, as if on instinct. There was something meaningful there, and my anxiety coiled at the idea of letting that go.
I glanced at my phone, where he’d replied that I could call whenever. I had no idea what I was going to say or why I’d even insisted on apologizing. Case’s sunny smile from the video flashed in my head, and I pushed it away. Unexpectedly, Lear’s expression from two nights ago came to mind, the look he’d had on his face before he admitted to fighting my battles for me. For standing up for me. I put my car in drive and pulled back out onto the road leading to the highway. Lear had said I was mean before he dragged his nose down my neck in this way that drove me nuts, like he was inhaling me and stroking me at the same time. I hadn’t felt cold when he called me mean, though. I’d kind of liked it. I’d liked it in the way I liked a lot of things about Lear, and I knew he deserved more of an explanation for my response last night.
I merged onto the highway, still unsure why I felt this sudden need to apologize. But I was certain it would be easier to do while driving.
Chapter 26
Lear
WHILE I WAITED outside, I leaned against my car, still looking up at the stars with an eye on the highway in the distance.
Excited to hear RJ’s voice and annoyed that this woman clearly had me twisted up enough to need to remind myself to calm down, I navigated to her contact information and tapped the phone icon, not wanting to wait for her. I didn’t move off the car. There was a full moon that lit the sky just enough for me to trace the lines in the concrete while I waited for her to answer.
“Hi,” she said, and I could make out the ambient sounds of the road in the background. “Thanks for talking when you’re with family.”
“It’s okay. I try to help my uncle out when I can.” I paused, kicking myself and realizing that playing it cool and telling her my life story were not compatible. “He’s asleep, though. Um, what’s up?”
I strolled into the land behind the house. The only place to really sit was the patio, but I didn’t want to risk waking Harold, or having him hear me crash and burn at whatever this was if he still had his hearing aid in. I started toward the back of the property where a small clearing at the base of a rocky ridge was lit by the moon and surrounded by lush grass.
As I walked, I could see the ridge beyond this part of the mountain, the hillsides dotted with the light from expensive windows inside very expensive homes. Uncle Harold was approached often about his land, and he’d gotten good offers, just none good enough yet, he’d always say. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
I imagined following the line of her neck down to that perfect bare shoulder, the soft skin interrupted only by her bra strap, and wished she was sitting next to me in the moonlight. I picked at a few blades of grass and waited for her.
“Listen,” she said, voice quiet but steady. “About the other night. I suck at apologies.”
“I shouldn’t have stepped in.”
“I’m trying to get better at owning up when I’m in the wrong. Not that it happens often, but I was in this instance.” I wished I could see her expression. “I was wrong for snapping at you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said, keeping my tone even. “You’re independent. You handle stuff on your own. I get it.”
“I do. That guy . . .” She sighed. “He reminded me of someone from my past, and it got me out of sorts. It wasn’t just about you.”
A guy steering clear of emotional entanglements would have inserted a “Cool” there effortlessly. Instead, sitting under a gnarled tree, I went the other direction, because I couldn’t not ask. “Old boyfriend?”