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Adam steps into the restaurant and I swear you can hear a pin drop. He’s in his park ranger uniform, without the hat. His hair is unruly but stylish in that way that I know he’s run his hands through it. He shakes a few hands and greets some other guests before making it to our table.
“Here, take my seat. Want some breakfast?” Mandi asks Adam as he slides into her chair.
“Sure. Tell Frank to make me an omelet though.”
“You’ll get a soufflé like everyone else,” she says and walks away.
Adam rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late. We had a group of teenagers who thought it was a good idea to grow pot in the woods.”
“Ekk,” I say.
“You like that?” He eyes my dish.
I stare at the mouthwatering soufflé on my plate. “I do.”
“Huh,” he says, and his forehead wrinkles a bit.
“What?”
“You never liked eggs before.”
“Really? I’ve been eating them for as long as I remember.” What I said repeats in my mind and I chuckle. “Well, I guess for the last three months.”
He frowns. “You wouldn’t even make me an omelet.”
“Oh.” Why wouldn’t I make my husband an omelet just because I didn’t like them?
“I usually made breakfast.” He shrugs.
“And what would I eat?”
“You were a yogurt-and-granola girl.”
“Huh. That’s odd.”
He flags down a waiter and orders a coffee. “So, I haven’t been by the cabin since the last renters left, but I had a cleaning crew go in early this morning. If we eat breakfast, they should be done by the time we get there. I’ll drop you off and head home to shower.”
I put my fork down and tilt my head. “What do you mean head home?”
“I live back at my dad’s with my brothers, remember?” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “I didn’t think we should… live together.”
I guess I thought we would live together. But he’s right. It’s not like we discussed it or anything. “Oh, right, of course not.”
Mandi brings over his soufflé and places it in front of him. “Francois made it special for you.” She keeps on walking.
“Tell Frank I said thanks.”
Her red ponytail swings back and forth as she shakes her head, stopping at a table and asking if they’re enjoying their breakfast.
“You love to razz her, huh?”
He takes such a huge bite, he can only nod as his response.
We eat in silence and look at the bay. Lucky for both of us, Adam eats as fast as a sixteen-year-old boy. Mandi waves off the bill and Adam picks up my bag on the way out, then deposits it in the back of the truck.
While he’s pulling out of the lot, my stomach erupts in a fit of emerging butterflies, hoping that physically being in our house, the place where we were husband and wife, will spur something out of the darkness.
Isuspected we had lived closer to where he works, so when he takes the roads farther up the other side of the bay, I’m not surprised. But the farther we drive, I find myself growing a little uneasy about sleeping here by myself.
