Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19)(38)

He crouched down and gave Lady a little rub under the chin. “This girl is looking better all the time. And this cat is getting fat on mutt milk. You have yourself a real zoo here.”

“Did you work today?”

“I slaved,” he said with a smile. “The weather is perfect. Let’s meet on the porch. It’s cocktail time.”

“Okay. Your porch or mine?” she asked.

“Come over here. I bought some wine and if you’re not too busy, we can have hamburgers. I’m celebrating that I’m caught up for the next two shows.”

“That sounds worth celebrating.”

“I’ll get a shower and meet you out front in twenty minutes.”

Kaylee felt a small charge of excitement. She saw him every day so this was not such a big deal, but they hadn’t had a drink together at the end of the day in at least several days. He’d been busy getting his wares together for the next weekend fair and she’d been trying to write, despite being very distracted by the new family she’d taken on. She went home and used her twenty minutes to primp, putting on a clean shirt, a light touch of makeup and some lipstick. She fluffed and brushed her hair and gave herself a squirt of perfume.

When he came out of his front door, she was already sitting on his porch. And he was ready for her, handing her a glass of her favorite chardonnay. He held a bottle of beer.

“It must be going very well in there if you’re tired and in need of a cocktail hour,” she said.

“You can have a look while I cook our hamburgers if you want to. I haven’t packed anything up yet and I will tomorrow.”

“I’d love to see, thanks.”

“Now tell me about your day,” he said. “It has to be much more exciting than mine.”

“Doubtful. I ran a couple of quick errands, then went to Jack’s, where I always go with the intention of doing some writing, and that almost never happens. People are not shy about pulling up a chair.”

“That’s the beauty of the place,” he said.

“I did run by the Templetons’ place, however. Paul Haggerty is doing the remodel and he invited me to put on a hard hat and take a look around inside. He put in new floors, replaced walls, completely remodeled and modernized a bathroom, the kitchen has new cupboards and countertops, and it needs to be cleaned, but it’s beginning to look better than ever. Better than I remembered it, at least.”

“When were you last here?”

“Ten years ago,” she said. “I was in my twenties and had just gone through a divorce and although it was the best decision I ever made, I was pretty broken up about it at the time. I think I was more embarrassed than anything.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Everyone knew Dixon was not good marriage material, including me. I thought he’d straighten out once we were married. He got worse, I think.”

“Okay, what made him bad marriage material?”

“He was irresponsible, flirtatious, inconsiderate, slovenly, had a short fuse, and the second we were married he thought he had a maid and a call girl.”

“How old was he?”

“We were both twenty-four. We had dated for a year, got engaged, and lived together while we planned a big wedding. See, I was an idiot. It was all there—big red flag after big red flag. I even had a few people ask me if I knew what I was doing...”

“There had to be a reason you were determined to marry him.”

“He was handsome, had a great sense of humor, and was so sexy women stopped in midstride to look at him. Waitresses used to write their phone numbers on the bill. Plus, we had a lot of friends and we always had fun. He was very good at playing. Boating, paddle boarding, scuba diving, bowling, golf—you name it. We were busy every weekend. But...he was so childish and irresponsible. He was never on time, he stood people up when he got distracted. He dropped his underwear for me to pick up. And if he carried a dish to the vicinity of the sink, he expected a marching band. Plus he was arrogant. It was all about him, you know? He talked about himself constantly. I think he made up half his stories. He was immature.”

“He was twenty-four,” Landry pointed out.

“Were you like that at twenty-four?” she asked.

“Nah. I was too serious.”

She chuckled. “You got over that, I guess.”

“It took some doing. I, too, was married at twenty-four. And looking back on it, it probably shouldn’t have happened, either.”

“Um, lest we forget, you’re still married.”

“Yes and no,” he said. “I mean, yes, I didn’t get divorced because it really didn’t seem important. But we did have the talk. When I pointed out to her that we never saw each other and sometimes didn’t even talk for weeks, she said, ‘But when we are together it’s so wonderful and I love you!’ And I said if we’re not going to live like a married couple, why should we be married? It was a very emotional showdown and she said if I wanted to get divorced she wouldn’t try to stand in my way. That clearing of the air changed things. I moved up here from San Francisco and moved in with my dad. I had more room to work and when she did visit, which wasn’t often, she took the guest room.”

“Was your heart broken?” she asked.

“Sure. The thing I couldn’t get past was that she didn’t love me enough to make a sacrifice for our marriage. I offered to move, to change whatever had to change so we could be together, but she said our living in different places wouldn’t last forever. She was wrong—it did last forever. Eventually I got over being mad or hurt. She had a dream and she wanted it so bad, nothing was going to get in her way. So, I kind of let it go. I let her go.”