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Meeting in person over coffee, especially when I was in the dark about the reason, was not how Marigold and I worked. Meeting in general was not how we worked. In this moment, I was trapped in the twilight zone. Suddenly, I was sitting on the front porch of her parents’ house, waiting for her to answer the door. Except back then, I was full of pure excitement. Now straight anxiety coursed through me.
The sound of the chime above the door snagged my attention, and there she was, standing at the threshold. Her hair was curled the way she used to do it. She’d pulled it back from her face with a thin white ribbon. She wore a yellow sundress dotted with tiny flowers, and she was wearing more makeup than normal. Her white tennis shoes were bright, and the delicate gold chain around her neck glimmered in the overhead lights. Her lip was caught between her teeth, almost like she was nervous. Had she dressed up for this? For me?
Absolutely not.
Maybe.
Either way, I’d tell myself she did.
Popped up on her tiptoes, she scanned the space, green eyes sparkling. I casually lifted a hand, and immediately, she homed in on me.
She dropped back onto the balls of her feet, and her shoulders drooped a little.
That simple reaction was like a punch to the gut. Every time she saw me, it was the same. Like the sight of me caused her to flinch. It was subtle. If I had to guess, the vast majority of people, even her friends, wouldn’t notice. But I always saw it. Felt it. The tinge of disappointment in her eyes, the weight that pulled her down. They were like physical blows to me.
With a tiny wave, she shuffled my way. She looked smaller than usual. Was she eating enough? Or had she been working through her lunch breaks like she did when we were first married? She’d work so hard and overschedule herself, which led to skipping meals most days. It became so common that I started bringing her lunch and sticking around so she’d have an excuse to take a break.
Marigold had always taken care of those around her. I was sure that hadn’t changed. But who was taking care of her? Paul?
The boys, as young as they are, watch out for her. I once heard Dallas pop off at a guy who looked at her the wrong way. That’s my boy, was my immediate thought. It gave me comfort knowing she had at least one set of eyes on her.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” The defeated sigh made it obvious she didn’t want to be here. Yet she was the one who’d asked me to meet. She sat and took in my mug, then drew her gaze up to my face, her expression neutral and impossible to read.
“Oh, do you want me to grab you one?” I offered, holding my mug aloft.
“No, I just…mouse fairy?” She tilted her head and frowned.
I huffed an amused breath. “I always was a fan of The Nutcracker.”
Her eyebrows turned in, and I swore one side of her mouth almost lifted. “There are mouse fairies in The Nutcracker?”
I shrugged. “Eh, I think so.”
She sighed again, through her nose, pressing her lips together. “Anyway…” She cleared her throat, probably to finally put me out of my misery.
But as she hesitated again, I couldn’t hold back. So with my heart in my throat, I spit it out. “Is this about Dallas wearing the Playboy shirt to school last week?”
Marigold’s eyes went wide.
Okay. She definitely did not know about that.
“What?”
I scratched my stubble. “Nothing. Why don’t you, uh, tell me what you wanted to talk about?” I crossed my arms and put on my game face, determined to not let any more unnecessary information slip.
She pursed her lips. “We’re coming back to that later.”
I made a mental note to distract her if there was even the slightest hint she might circle back to that topic.
Marigold sat straighter, pulling her shoulders back like she was repositioning herself in an attempt to get the upper hand. “We…need to discuss the school project.”
Swamped by a wave of underwhelmed disappointment, I deflated like a balloon. Wow. She wanted to meet for coffee to discuss that? And all this time, I’d expected a lecture or a reprimand or visual daggers.
I huffed out a laugh. “Are we actually doing that?”
She angled forward, narrowing her eyes. “Uh, yes, we are. You signed us up for it.”
