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I nod, cringing. It takes her a to process this, then she has some wine and shrugs.
“As long as you liked him and he wasn’t a dick.”
“He is a dick.”
“Why? What did he do?” A vengeful frown creases her forehead.
“Nothing, it was really nice, and he was super gentle about everything,” I say, face hot. “But he is a massive dick.”
“Well, that’s all confusing information.”
I drink some more wine. My glass is half empty. This part is harder to say out loud than admitting I slept with him.
“I can’t shake it,” I say finally. “It’s been a year, and I can’t get over him.”
She thinks, face sober. “Can I ask a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Was he your first?”
God, how is she so perceptive?
“Yeah, for like…going all the way,” I admit.
Over her head, I can see Hugh is heading to the table.
“We can talk more about it,” I say hurriedly. I’m not sure why I’m not ready to talk about things with my stepdad. He was supportive about Sabrina’s relationship with Coen, but this is different. She was falling in love. I had a few days of sex with a man I don’t really know, and then I didn’t speak to him for a year.
“We’ll talk,” Mom says.
Hugh plops down. “About what?”
“Nothing,” we both say.
He doesn’t push it. I do like how Hugh gets it; he’s always been one of the girls, but also knows when to stay out of the conversation. He also seems to sense that I’m a bit down and changes the subject, asking how long I’m staying, what our plans are, and what restaurants and shops we should try out.
The rest of the meal does a lot for making me feel better. I eat my weight in pasta and bread, then curl up in the backseat of the car and listen to seventies rock all the way home. Upstairs in my room, I shower and curl into bed, but not before sending Sabrina a text to let her know Mom and Hugh are doing just as well as ever.
She says everyone is fine at home. That I should enjoy myself and stay as long as I want.
I roll onto my back before turning off the lamp.
Maybe I will.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAMIE
Coen knows what’s going on in my head.
He doesn’t say it for the first few days I’m at Maxwell Ranch. He just moseys about that damn ranch of his, fucks around in his studio, and clocks in for a few hours of contract work a week. And he’s happy as he’s ever been with Sabrina. I hear the way they talk to each other, the way they look across the room and she gets a little smile in her eyes. I’m happy for him; I was the one who told him to take a break, after all. But inside, real deep inside, I’m feeling lost.
It was always Coen and me.
Now, I’m third-wheeling it hard.
Coen doesn’t say anything when he drives me to the airport, either. We say goodbye like nothing has changed. I feel his eyes burn into my back as I head through security. I’m running late, so any rumination is impossible while I sprint across the airport and slip onto the plane at the last second.
