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“It’s probably not, but it’s nice of you to say so,” Michael said. He glanced at the little garage sitting behind the house and stopped for a minute. “You know, I almost forgot I had this key I found and I wanted to try it on the door over there.” We still hadn’t gotten into the garage, and I had no doubt it would be filled with more stuff we’d have to deal with.
“Sure,” I said, following him to the door. The structure was so overgrown with vines it was hard to even get to the door, and the windows were blackened and much too dusty to see through.
He pulled his keys from his pocket and selected the dirty brass one. He wiggled it around a bit, but ultimately stuck the keys back in his pocket. “Doesn’t fit.”
“We should ask the lawyer about it,” I said. “Maybe he has a key he forgot to give us.”
“Maybe,” Michael shrugged. “But I think I know why this key doesn’t fit in.”
“Why?”
“It’s too door key.” He grinned at me, waiting for me to get it.
“Oh my God, you are the absolute worst.”
“You love dad jokes.”
“I do,” I admitted. I loved his dad jokes, at least. It took a willingness to be vulnerable to tell a truly horrible joke, and I liked that Michael was willing to reveal that part of himself to me. It made me feel closer to him.
We went together into the house, and I took my things upstairs to shower. The newly finished floors gleamed beneath my feet, and the creaking I’d grown used to in the short time I’d been in the house had lessened, since the crew had shored up boards that were loose or damaged. The house was beginning to feel less neglected and spooky, and a little more like a place where I could imagine families once having lived.
21
Dorky
Michael
Ishouldn’t have felt so happy about being back at the house, about seeing Addie again. But in the few days since we’d been away, I found that I missed her, that the few days we’d spent together working side by side had been the closest thing I’d ever had to the kind of home life I’d always wanted. A man and a woman with similar goals, working together. I knew it was a stretch to put us into that little stereotype I had in my head, but I couldn’t really shake the feeling of semi-domestic bliss that I’d had while we’d been together in the house.
It didn’t hurt that my lawyer had assured me Shelly had no chance at winning a bid for sole custody. I’d spoken to him about my fears and been honest about the situation at the house, and he’d told me that while it would be best if Addie and I maintained separate bedrooms—at least while Daniel was around, there was no real cause for concern.
So I’d felt like there were a lot of reasons to celebrate as I had come back up the hill to Maple Lane tonight. And when Addie had appeared as I’d come up the garden path, I’d felt a little surge of excitement bubble within me. It might not have been real, and maybe it wasn’t right. But it felt good.
In the kitchen, I opened the bottle of pinot noir I’d brought, and put together the bulgogi. I set the table with two settings, and brought the old sterling candle holders in from the dining room, where they’d been perched on the mantle over the fireplace. I even managed to find two candles in a kitchen drawer, but then thought better of it. I heard Addison on the stairs as I rushed to take the candles away. I didn’t want to make her think I was expecting anything. This wasn’t a date.
I picked up the heavy silver bases and turned to carry them back into the dining room, just as Addie appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Mr. Tucker, in the kitchen, with the candlestick!” She said triumphantly.
“Very funny.”
“Those are pretty. Were they the ones in the dining room?”
I nodded and turned back around, placing them on the table again.
“Good idea,” she said, and when I turned to look at her again, her smile banished all the nervous worry I’d been feeling. I’d forgotten how things were with us. Easy. Comfortable. Natural.
She smelled like soap, and her hair hung in loose waves around her face, still damp. She wore a soft-looking pumpkin colored sweater and faded jeans, and she had socks on her feet. I wanted to pick her up and snuggle her. I wanted to do much, much more than that.
“You ready to eat?” I asked her.
“If we are going to eat whatever it is I smell, then absolutely yes.”
I poured two glasses of wine and handed her one as she came to sit at the table. I took one myself. “To the house,” I suggested, holding out my globe.
“To the house,” she said. “And to being out from under Lottie’s scrutiny.” She took a sizable swig and leaned back into the bench behind her, looking relaxed and happy.
“Was it that bad?” I asked, still standing.
