“God, I thought you were being such a dick that night.”
“So you did notice!”
“Of course I noticed,” Meg said, laughing in spite of herself. “I just didn’t want to—cause a problem, I guess. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not all your fault,” Mason said. “I mean, I’m sorry I was an asshole who picked a fight just to see what would happen. And I’m sorry I wasn’t the kind of person you could feel safe causing a problem in front of.”
They were quiet for a moment, looking out at the cul-de-sac. An old man shuffled along the sidewalk alongside a scrappy little terrier; two little kids ran through the sprinkler across the street. “That dude Colby,” Mason said finally, glancing at her sidelong. “Can you cause problems in front of each other?”
Meg snorted; she couldn’t help it. “That’s about the only thing we could do, actually.” Still, she thought, it wasn’t that simple. Her parents’ arguments had turned them into the worst versions of themselves, mean and vindictive. But she kind of thought the arguments she and Colby had made them better. She hadn’t known arguments could do that until she met him—or she had, maybe, but she’d forgotten, same as she’d forgotten how to be herself.
“Past tense, huh?” Mason asked. “So it’s done?”
“Yeah,” Meg said, clearing her throat a little; she kept waiting for it to hurt less, although so far it kind of didn’t. “It’s done.”
“That’s too bad,” Mason said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he seemed like kind of a douche at your dad’s wedding. But from what Emily said, you really liked him.”
“Yeah,” Meg said again, tilting her head back. “I really did.”
Thirty-Five
Colby
The following morning, Colby got up early and drove to a neat-looking craftsman near the high school, with a wide front porch with a swing at one end of it and a row of tomato plants along the fence at the side. He climbed out of the car and rang the bell, then wiped his sweaty hands on his thighs and told himself to stop being such a loser. God, this whole thing was fucking dumb.
A guy he didn’t recognize answered the door—pleasant-looking, with round glasses and a short-sleeved plaid shirt buttoned over a paunchy belly. A terrier danced manically around his feet. “Hi there,” he said, looking at Colby curiously. “Can I help you?”
“Um,” Colby said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Is Doug here?”
The guy nodded. “Sure thing,” he said, then turned and called down the wide, paneled hallway. “Hey, love? There’s a kid here to see you.”
Doug appeared at the front door a moment later, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Colby,” he said, a brief twitch of his eyebrows the only outward sign he was surprised at the sight of Colby in a collar on his doorstep. “Good to see you.”
“I messed up,” Colby blurted, not bothering to say hello or show any manners whatsoever. His mother would have been ashamed. “By not calling you back in time. I think I was scared that the job would turn out to be a letdown, or, like, that I would be a letdown to you and you’d decide you were wrong to offer it to me, or just that, like, the rug would get pulled out somehow, you know? But, like—whatever, none of that is your problem. That’s my problem, and I’m trying to fix it, but—” He broke off, realizing abruptly that he was rambling. He’d never admitted this stuff out loud before. He hadn’t even really known he was thinking it. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I really want this job, is my point. And if I made you think I didn’t, or that I didn’t care one way or the other, then that was a fu—a mess-up on my part. So if you can give me another chance, I think you might figure out that I can add value to what you’re doing here.”
Doug looked at him for a long time, not saying anything. Then he bent down and picked up the dog. “Why don’t you come in?” he said.
Colby nodded and followed them into the kitchen, eyes darting as he tried to take in all the details of the house without looking like he was casing it for a robbery. It was the closest thing he’d ever seen to what he’d imagined in his head when he thought about building something in Paradise: Built-in shelves with photos and books on them. A stained-glass window at the foot of