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The moment the door was shut behind me, I dug my phone out of my purse and pulled up my security app. On screen, Liam sat in the driver’s seat of his car with his head resting against the steering wheel.
I had been so caught up in trying to figure out how I felt about our interaction tonight that I hadn’t considered Liam’s feelings. Maybe under all the button pushing and shameless flirting was a man who was just as confused as I was.
Sleep had been elusive the last few nights. At least a hundred times, I considered driving across town and knocking down Marigold’s door, begging her for a chance to try. To see what this could be. Give her a chance to discover why she’d gotten butterflies when I touched her ankle just right or explore the magnitude of the electricity bouncing between us. There was no figuring out for me. But I needed her to catch up.
After she left the restaurant bathroom, I went back to the table and grabbed my jacket, wallet, and keys. Then I made up a nonsense excuse about how my house was flooding and headed straight to her house. I waited for an hour, desperately praying she wouldn’t pull into the driveway with a date. Hoping beyond hope I wouldn’t have to awkwardly explain myself, then do the most uncomfortable walk of shame ever. I was equally relieved and terrified when only Marigold stepped out of her car and onto the front porch.
She hadn’t brought him home, and he hadn’t driven her. That was a plus. It wasn’t fair to think that way. It was none of my business what she did in her own time. But I couldn’t forget the way she’d lit up when we’d discussed the project or how we’d locked eyes at the soccer game. Her suggestion that I come over. Then there was the other night. The night our lips barely brushed. When we were interrupted before I could remind her of what it felt like when we kissed. How I’d caressed her ankle and up her leg, tracing her smooth skin. How her dress had clung to her. The way we’d still fit together so perfectly.
Did she remember it too? The way our love had burned hotter than the sun on a bright summer’s day? How hard it had been to leave the house because of the overwhelming, all-consuming need to always be near each other. Getting ten minutes down the road and then saying screw it and canceling all of our plans so we could spend the day at home. Lounging on the couch, watching movies or playing video games (me) and reading scary books (her). Making breakfast together and kissing one another goodbye.
After all that overthinking, after pulling out locked-away memories and images of the days when our love had sustained us more thoroughly than any food, I couldn’t make myself go to her. Every time I convinced myself to, a flash of memory would hit me. The instant she realized she’d nearly kissed me. The way her eyes had widened in disbelief, and how quickly shame and disappointment had clouded her expression.
I needed a normal, low-energy, not-freaking-out-every-ten-minutes-about-an-almost-kiss kind of night.
Except tonight was family dinner night, so I’d have to wait a little longer to find that peace.
Tonight’s buffet of chaos included: Layla and Calla plotting her next book and waving dramatically, reenacting every scene. Luke staring at Layla while they did so. Mom and Rachel finishing up dessert (whatever they were making smelled incredible). Adam and Dad on the back porch, probably talking about camouflage and MREs.
Crew was MIA, but he’d show up eventually. Everyone else was here. Everyone but the woman who had taken up almost every part of my brain for the last two weeks and the boys we shared.
I’d gotten stuck at work, so I’d missed the meal itself. It struck me then, that for years, when I was running late, I’d have a slew of text messages with requests to check in and questions about when I’d arrive. I’d have to face the firing squad at every meal and sit with the guilt my mother’s disappointed look always brought with it. Now no one batted an eye when I walked in an hour after dinner. It was like they expected it. Had I set such a precedent that my entire family just assumed I was working late? No matter what? Because even Mama B and Calla had stopped checking in with me.
Not that I blamed them. But deep down, I missed the texts. I missed knowing they were thinking of me. That they were looking forward to seeing me.
I scanned the kitchen and living room, saying a quick hello to my siblings and friends, then giving my mother a kiss on the cheek.
Maybe they were in the guest room where the boys slept when they stayed over?
The place was lively enough that I slipped down the hall without being noticed. Upstairs, I opened the second door on the right. The room was a disaster. The toys scattered everywhere were proof that my sons had been here recently. But there was still no sign of Marigold.
Maybe she’d skipped out tonight. Maybe she was smart, unlike me, and had chosen to keep the distance we’d been maintaining since the last time we were alone.
Only, space was the last thing I wanted. What I wanted—no, what I needed—were answers about what was going on between us. I needed a spreadsheet. I needed numbers and percentages and charts that depicted and broke down and explained the pull I’d felt that night. The pull I still felt. That string that tied her heart to mine. It had frayed over the years, and it had knotted once or twice, but it was still there.
But did she feel it too? Or had she gotten caught up in the heat of the moment? Lost in memories of the chemistry we used to share. Echoes of affection that bubbled to the surface. Or was that instant a hint of something that could be real? Permanent?
As if God was playing a twisted joke on me, laughter spilled from outside the window to my right. And there, hanging from a tree branch in the backyard, was Marigold. The boys were on the ground looking up at her, eyes bright and faces split in grins, laughing with her. Or maybe at her, considering she was acting like a monkey, swaying from side to side, letting her arms dangle and crossing her eyes.
I sniffled a laugh as I stood there, mesmerized by her toned legs and the strip of skin peeking out at her back. By the way the sunshine peeked through the trees and cast a warm glow, like a spotlight made just for her. The caramel and brown strands of hair dangling, the giggles that matched those of our sons’ pouring out of her. Bliss.
Somewhere out there, in a world where we’d worked out, I’d be with them, hefting the boys up so they could grasp at Marigold’s hands. Reveling in the way her soft, silky hair brushed their fingertips. Maybe I’d steal a kiss. Then I’d laugh when the boys told us we were being gross. She and I would be lost in our own world, so it wouldn’t matter. Maybe I would climb with her, higher and higher until we reached the top of the white oak tree and could look down on the spot by the creek at the edge of the property where I’d proposed.
Lips curled, I instinctively brushed my left thumb over my ring finger to turn the gold band, only to remember it wasn’t there. It hadn’t been there in nearly seven years, and yet I still felt naked without it.
Would that feeling ever go away?
I glanced down at my bare hand, then to the small marigold on my wrist. The one thing neither of us could erase. The one thing I never wanted to.
A scream rent the air, and my heart stopped for an instant. Snapping straighter, I scanned the yard. I spotted Marigold just as she tumbled to the ground in slow motion, the broken branch falling with her. I was running down the stairs before I knew what I was doing. Then I was breaking through the screen door in the kitchen. I would have to pay for that later, but I didn’t care.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow!”
Marigold winced. She was propped up against the tree, cradling her right wrist. I cursed as I leaped off the deck, spying the clearly dead tree branch lying in the grass beside her. Why hadn’t I noticed that it was dead?
When I was at her side, I dropped to my knees. “Let me see.” I stuck a hand out, my fingers shaking. She could have hit her head, could have broken her neck. She was nearly ten feet up. What was I thinking? I should have gone outside the second I saw her dangling, just in case. I shouldn’t have let her put herself in danger in the first place.
She sniffled, her hair hanging in her face. “Didn’t know you were an accountant and a doctor.”
