The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,35
a sense of shame.
“I won’t tell Dad.” I said it as much for me as for Logan. I didn’t want to fight with Charlie about Logan’s sex life, and it would be a doozy of an argument, but part of me knew it was inevitable.
I was closing her door behind me when Logan said, “Mom?”
I came partway into the room.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“You’re welcome.”
I closed the door and leaned against it again, relief coursing through me, though my stomach was still roiling. As far as a first step on the road to honesty went, it had been a rousing success. I straightened. Who was I kidding? Telling Logan something she had already figured out for herself was nothing compared to the bombshell of having a closeted mother in love with her former best friend. I pressed firmly against my stomach, but the pressure didn’t calm my nerves.
I wanted a drink.
Charlie stood at the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of iced tea. “It’s brutal out there.”
“No one’s making you do it.”
“I’m not wasting the money on something I can do myself.”
“Right.” I opened the refrigerator door and stared at the contents without seeing them.
“Where have you been?”
I closed the fridge and got a glass from the cabinet. “Talking to Logan.”
“About what?” His expression was one of supreme unconcern as if our earlier argument never happened. Or with the self-assurance of a man who, after nearly eighteen years of marriage, had no reason to think his wife would go against his wishes.
I filled my glass with ice and poured myself a tea. “Going to a gynecologist in Austin.” As much as I loved sweet tea, it was a damn poor substitute for Maker’s Mark.
“Everything okay?”
“She’s at the age.” My phone buzzed with a text message. An unfamiliar area code.
See, I didn’t throw your card away.
My stomach somersaulted. I turned away from Charlie and leaned against the counter.
Took you long enough to text.
I drove out to Comanche Springs.
I swallowed, remembering the times we spent out there, sunbathing on the rocks in the shallow river, skinny dipping in the deep pools when we were alone, pushing the limits, the possibility of getting caught heightening the thrill of every touch.
“When are you going?”
I haven’t been out there in years.
It’s not as full as it used to be. What can I bring Friday night?
An appetite.
Dessert?
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard while I debated how to respond. Safe or bold? What the hell.
Nothing. I’m trying to seduce you with my cooking, remember?
Three dots flashed on the screen for ten seconds, twenty, thirty, while my insides twisted into a Gordian knot.
“Sophie!” Charlie’s voice was loud in my ear. I jumped and pressed my phone against my chest.
“What?”
“What’s so riveting you’ve ignored my question three times?” His eyes wandered to the phone.
“Nora. About Friday night. She wants to know if she can bring something.”
“Ask her to bring the pound cake she used to make. You remember?”
“Yes.”
Charlie waited for me to send the message. I looked at my phone. The three dots had disappeared, with no new message.
Charlie is requesting the pound cake you used to make.
“Done.”
Charlie patted his stomach. “I should probably go for a run in preparation.”
“Good idea,” I said.
“Hey, watch it.” He kissed me on the cheek. “Oh, I was thinking of inviting Avery and Mark, too. Or is that too much?”
“Um, sure,” I said, automatically, staring at my phone. “It’s okay.”
“Let me know what help you need.”
“Help with what?” Logan walked into the kitchen with her dirty paper plate and tossed it in the trash.
“Friday night,” Charlie said. “We’re having a dinner party.”
“We’re inviting three people and we’re using paper plates.”
“So, a hillbilly dinner party,” Logan said. “Can I ask Joaquin and Lexa?”
“Sure,” Charlie said, walking out of the kitchen. “The more the merrier. I’m going to finish the yard.”
I gritted my teeth. The dinner I’d planned on being a small family affair with four people now included two extra teenagers and two Millennial political operatives who would see our house, our food, our conversation and our opinions through DC-colored glasses. There would be very little chance to have a meaningful conversation with Nora, which was what I wanted. We’d yet to have a conversation not be interrupted by another person or a misunderstanding. There was so much to say, to feel.
“Mom? Is it okay if I invite my friends?”
I smiled and kissed Logan on the forehead. “Of course it is. Go to the store and buy avocados for me, so they have time to ripen.”