I stare at the back of that door for a solid minute.
I don’t even think I blink once.
A hundred thoughts fly through my head. I should probably wake up Chad. But also maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should get the full story from Joanne first without Chad there to interfere or complicate things. I could also jump out the window and run.
I look back at the bed.
He’s still snoring, obliviously unaware of all of this, adrift in a peaceful, foggy dreamland, his legs tangled in the bed sheets.
Everything just got a whole lot more complicated in a matter of seconds, and I don’t know how to feel about it. Was he keeping this information from me? Or was it just one of those “there was never a right time to bring it up” situations? Or did he figure that, since I was heading back to LA soon, it wouldn’t matter?
Maybe it doesn’t matter.
I should hear her out before I flip my sewing machines and go nuts.
When I return from Chad’s bedroom, I’m wearing the clothes I borrowed from Fabian. Upon reaching the living room, Joanne is on her feet at once. “Hey. Okay, I’ve given it some thought, and I’m gonna say a few things first, if that’s alright. Is that alright? Shit, should we make ourselves some drinks instead of the coffee? It isn’t too early, is it? I’d like myself a scotch, personally.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, knocked back a step by her energy.
“Right, you’re right, very right. No alcohol, then. Let me grab us some coffee and then get right into it. Can I start? Here, have a seat. Not in that chair,” she adds quickly when I go for one. “Millie peed on it a few years ago, and I swear the smell has never gone away. I don’t know why we haven’t burned the plaid, terrifying thing. Have you met our sweet golden retriever yet? That’s who Millie is. Oh, goodness, I should have clarified that first. Anyway, she’s in the main house. Sweet thing, gentle as a pickle. A hairy pickle. Sit right there, that chair’s good. Yep, that one.”
She indicates the other red plaid one across from the couch. I take my seat, then place my hands in my lap and stare at her. The coffee table divides us like a small wooden wall with a glass top.
Also, her plate of cinnamon rolls sits on it.
They look so fresh and delicious.
And I’m hungry.
“Good. So can I say my few things real fast?” she asks as she returns to the couch with two mugs of coffee, setting them down. “I think they’ll make you feel better. Good morning, by the way.”
The tone of her voice is sweet and welcoming, despite all the disorganized turmoil laced between her words. She’s like a woman trapped on the edge of keeping it all together and falling apart.
She’s basically me the whole week before a runway show.
I can oddly relate.
“Good morning,” I say back, my voice level and calm.
“Okay, so let me say a few things.” She clears her throat, then searches the ceiling for her thoughts. “Okay, so … first things first. Chad and I.” She keeps speaking to the ceiling. “Basically, we got married after I graduated, which was two years after you guys did. People just kinda expected us to get together, so we did, and … well, it didn’t work out all that long, now did it? Not even a year. Didn’t make it to our first anniversary. See, I knew something was off. Something fundamental. He did, too, of course. Long story short, the whole Tanner-coming-out-at-a-party-seven-years-ago thing went down, and suddenly my husband’s got something really big he wants to say to me.” She peels her eyes off the ceiling and looks at me, wincing. “He tells me he thinks he’s gay, and I was like, ‘Baby, Chaddy, I know, and I think I’ve always known, and it’s okay.’”
I blink. Despite the rapid-fire, meandering nature of how she talks, I find myself wanting to hear every single thing she’s telling me. “You’re, uh … So … So wait, it’s okay? It was all okay with you? How did he react to that?”
“Oh, like a dream. Now put yourself in my heels a second. I had already done all the thought work. Or, well, I mean, most of it. I kinda was thinking it already for a while, you see what I mean? So I’d already prepared myself. I was just waiting for him to say something. I wanted … I wanted to give him the room to say something first. To tell me.” She frowns. “Hmm, on second thought, maybe I should’ve initiated the talk. Hmm.” She picks at something on her jeans. Did I mention she’s in a pair of jeans, cowboy boots, and a loose yet modest powder-blue blouse? If I was straight, I’d call her heaven on a prairie-girl stick and ask her out. “I’m trying this new thing, you see. I’m trying to be ‘assertive’. That’s what Chad always says I need to be more of: assertive. I run a business between here and Fairview. It’s a small on-the-go business. I do well enough to hold my own. I sell beauty products, you might have guessed, if you’ve seen them all over Chad’s bathroom already. He said if I want to be successful, I’m gonna need to assert myself.”