Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(32)
“What did you want me to do? Take out an advertisement?”
“No,” he drawled, his jaw working. “But if people had known, then it would’ve saved me a bunch of trouble.”
I blinked at him, stunned, unable to believe my ears, and surrendered to my sarcastic impulses before I could hold my tongue. “Oh. I’m sorry, Hank. My marriage had fallen apart and my baby had colic, so I wasn’t sleeping, and I didn’t know how or if I’d have money to pay the mortgage or pay for food. But you’re right, I should’ve been thinking about your good standing in the community.”
He held his hand up, rolling his eyes. “All right, all right—”
I wasn’t finished. “I know how much your spotless reputation means to you, how you never do or say anything to shock the locals, like using your parents’ house on Bandit Lake to throw raging parties in middle and high school and charging for entry and mandatory valet parking.”
“Okay. That was—”
“Or stealing your daddy’s Mercedes and running away to Mexico for a summer.”
His jaw worked. “Now, wait a minute.”
“Or dropping out of college during your senior year to buy and reopen a rundown strip club in your hometown. How blind and selfish of me.” I pressed my fingertips to my chest once again; his attention flickered there. “Please, forgive me for my oversight, Mr. Weller.”
Hank’s lips formed a firm line, his eyes narrowing even as they shone bright with humor. Maybe he didn’t like it, but he definitely thought my sass was funny.
“Fine, Charlotte. Your points are good ones.” Despite his best efforts, a smile finally claimed his lips, and his eyes slid over me, lingering on my hand still resting on my chest, in a way that made my stomach feel fluttery. “In retrospect, I reckon I understand why some people—without being aware you’d already left Kevin—decided I had culpability. I run this club and I thought you two were still together. I could’ve stepped in and discouraged the acquaintance. I didn't.”
“That shouldn't be your job.” On impulse, I started to reach out for his hand and then stopped, yanking mine back and curling it into a fist on my knee. His fingers stopped their tapping. “If I see a quadruple bypass patient with uncontrolled high blood pressure eating a bag of potato chips, no one expects me to step in and take the bag away. People in this country have the freedom to screw up their lives however they wish and would throw a fit if they couldn’t, but folks in town expect you to be the cock-blocking big brother of Eastern Tennessee?”
Hank barked a laugh at cock-blocking big brother. “I’m not your brother.”
“Exactly. Kevin is responsible for Kevin—that’s how adulthood works. Go on and tell me.” I made a gimme motion with my hands. “What have folks been doing that has your boxers twisted so tight? It must’ve been harsh, given the dirty looks you’ve been sending my way.”
Full-on grinning now, Hank leaned an inch closer. “You really had no idea?”
“I really had no idea and I’ve never blamed you for what happened with Kevin. I’ve been kinda busy, in case you hadn’t noticed. And no one gossips to me about my own divorce. They give me lots of Bless your hearts, tuna casseroles, and pity. Which, whatever. I like tuna, even if it’s pity-tuna.”
He chuckled and I joined him while we swapped stares, his pretty eyes absent their earlier prickly and butt-hurt quality. They almost looked . . . warm.
Hope swelled, confusing me. I didn’t know what I was hoping for, and propelling me to fill the silence. “Did people make your life difficult?”
Hank leaned his elbow on the desk, filling my vision. “Nothing some TV dinners and a good paint job didn't fix.”
I didn't understand what TV dinners had to do with this situation, but I let it go. Since Hank seemed to be in a mood to clear things up, I now had a follow-up question. “You knew what was going on with Kevin and Bambi?”
His expression sobered and he nodded.
“How long?”
“About six months, or a little less.”
Absorbing this news, I allowed my unfocused attention to drift beyond Hank, feeling the now-familiar void where my love for Kevin used to be, as well as an odd sense of relief. We’d moved back to Green Valley six months prior to me asking for a divorce. He’d probably started cheating with Bambi the same month we returned to my hometown.
If second-guessing in the face of irrefutable evidence were an Olympic sport, I’d be a gold medalist. The old fear constantly crept in, worrying I’d made the wrong decision asking Kevin to move out. But learning that he’d been cheating on me as soon as we moved helped ease my irrational fears.
What kind of example did I want to set for my sons and daughters? How could I teach my sons it was perfectly fine to step out on their spouses? Break their promises? How could I tell my daughters to accept less than what they deserved? I wanted to lead by example, not only with my words.
But even now, even knowing how long he’d been carrying on with Bambi, and as ridiculous as it sounded, part of me still hoped Kevin would return one day a changed man, someone worthy of being a father, willing to be the fun-loving man I’d married, and want to have a relationship with our kids.
Movement had me refocusing my attention on Hank.