on Edward must have diluted the emotion, because what came now was a bearable spasm. “When do you see rabbits?”
“In the gift shop here. They’re soft.”
“You squeeze them?”
“Discreetly. Like I’m just picking one up to see how much it costs.”
The image was funny. No, I decided, not funny. Sweet. And also familiar. I knew just where those rabbits were. They were tucked together in a bucket on a rotating stand that held buckets of donkeys, elephants, and giraffes.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I’ve squeezed those rabbits, too.” But that wasn’t what he wanted to know. He wanted confirmation that he wasn’t alone in missing Lily. “I’m usually good during the day,” I said. “She comes at night.”
“Every night?”
“Pretty much. She loves my pets.” Now, again, those pets were a lifeline, my link to the present. I drew back from Edward, but his hands were suddenly on my shoulders and when I looked up, our eyes met.
There it was again, a look heated by pure chemistry. In that instant, I wanted nothing more than to stand up against him, wrap my arms around his neck, and lose myself in his mouth. But that would really open a floodgate on the past. It would invite a repeat of what had happened at his place. And in his office bathroom?
“Nope,” I said, denying us both, “not going there.” When I stood, our bodies brushed, we were that close, but I quickly backed off and returned to his office.
It was a minute before he followed. One look at his face, and I swore softly.
He looked startled. “What?”
“You need to be less transparent, Edward. Actually, maybe you do need a Nina.”
“Nope, not going there,” he said, echoing me, and changed the subject with a curious, “You don’t cry. Why not?”
He was the first one to ask. The first one. Because no one else knew. I was alone those nights in bed when it hit, and if I had been with someone, he would have thought me heartless and cold. That wasn’t a risk with Edward. He knew I loved Lily. And he’d already noticed my dry eyes, so if he was going to think less of me, it was done.
“I ran out of tears a couple of years ago,” I said.
“But you’re in pain.”
I nodded. “They tell me it’s like having a heart attack.”
“Like a panic attack?”
“No. I have chest pain.”
He processed that while I forced memory aside and deliberately ate a grape. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, my therapist called it. It hadn’t worked in the past, but maybe with Edward here, it would.
“Tea?” he asked.
“Actually, yes. Thank you.”
He crossed to the Nespresso machine. No, Edward couldn’t cook, but he always made me tea. Back then, we had a Keurig. The Inn had a contract—yet another contract—with Nespresso.
Returning, he passed me a mug. I lifted it to my nose and inhaled. “Vanilla Oolong?” I asked in surprise.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know Nespresso made Vanilla Oolong pods.”
“I did some work for a start-up that made them. They give me whatever I want whenever I ask. These just arrived.”
“Are you a tea-drinker now?” After he widened his eyes in an are-you-kidding way, I lowered mine and studied the clear amber liquid in its porcelain mug. Vanilla Oolong wasn’t offered during high tea at the Inn. He had ordered it for me, which was thoughtful and sweet, totally touching. I just wish he hadn’t. Kind gestures complicated things. Figuring out who I was—who he was—was hard enough without throwing a we in the mix.
He went back for coffee, but by the time he came back with his mug filled, I was no closer to knowing what to think. There was some solace in realizing he didn’t either, because he didn’t resurrect the tea-for-me theme, the chest-pain theme, or, thank goodness, the Lily theme, because the latter, especially, would have done me in. Once he was seated, he simply put his elbows on his knees, held the mug in both hands, and said, “Tell me about the Town Meeting.”
14
Town Meeting was a Vermont institution. State law dictated that it be held on the first Tuesday in March, and while there was always business to discuss, it was as much a social event, giving people reason to slog through snow or mud to be with others of like mind. We Devonites were just defiant enough to have voted—overwhelmingly—to hold ours on the last Wednesday of the month, though it was also a practical move. We didn’t like having to slog through snow, and by