Which explained nothing. And everything?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” He glanced over at her.
“Are you, maybe, still a little in love with her?”
“What? Are you kidding? Not at all.” The shock in his voice was evident. As was the truth in his gaze. “I love her. I’d have made the marriage work and found happiness there, but I was never in love with her. It’s hard to explain... I promised my brother, while he was dying, that I’d take care of her. With him gone, she had no insurance, would have had to switch to some expensive, six-month policy...we didn’t know, for a while there, if she’d ever walk again...”
He looked her straight in the eye as he told her he’d never been in love with his ex-wife, and she believed him.
Was sad, for no reason that made a bit of sense to her.
And was honestly relieved, too.
* * *
The highlight of Wood’s week became their Monday nights at the little diner outside town. By the third week in September, he was almost beginning to feel like he had his new normal. Mondays with Cassie, going through his routine and text messages to send him off to sleep each night. The furniture was going to be done in plenty of time. He’d been spending his weekends in his shed nonstop, except the one time he went out with Elaina and some of her friends. And he took whatever weeknights he had free out there, as well. Retro was getting to the point of heading out her doggy door as soon as Wood got up to do the dinner dishes, and she would be waiting by the shed door when he got outside.
Days on the job hadn’t changed, other than various guys he’d known over the years—electricians, inspectors, his contractor—coming up to congratulate him when they visited the site. He’d had no idea he was noteworthy enough for his news to spread so far, or so quickly. And the rest of his life...was in a state of calm. At least until something changed again. Like his son coming into the world.
Or Elaina telling him she was moving out.
That third week in September, he’d just finished off the one beer he’d allowed himself, had told the waitress she could take away what was left of his steak, and smiled at Cassie as she asked to have the rest of her chicken salad to take home with her. She’d ordered the family size and finished off more than half of it.
“What?” she asked, looking over at him. His knee had bumped hers under the table one night several weeks before, and she hadn’t moved hers away. He hadn’t, either. Ever since then, their knees met, and held on, for the duration of dinner.
“Your appetite seems to increase each week,” he told her.
“I know, but I’m not gaining as much as the doctor wants me to gain,” she told him. “I’m down about five pounds from where she wants me. But during the last month I’m supposed to gain a pound a week, and I can’t imagine carrying that much more weight around everywhere.”
She’d been getting a little more tired more easily, and he wished he could follow her home, rub her back for her. Do something to help her with the physical stress of carrying his child.
“It’s all in your belly,” he told her.
“That’s what everyone says.”
He wasn’t everyone. He noticed every curve of her body, and...
“I have to tell you something.” Cassie’s pronouncement wiped all other thoughts from his brain. No good news came from a beginning like that.
“What?” Was she moving away? Had she fallen in love with someone else? How would he know? He knew her favorite color, every food she liked and didn’t like, what movies made her cry, the name of her dog when she was growing up, but he didn’t really know anything that she did during the week. Except work.
Had she met someone? Started dating?
The whole idea just felt wrong. From the bottom up.
“My paralegal, Marilyn, asked me why we weren’t getting married. She thinks I’m in love with you.”
He stared, certain that he hadn’t heard her right. That the beer had been spiked and had gone to his head. The vulnerable look in those sweet blue eyes told him differently. He had no idea what to say. Wasn’t even sure what he thought.
Her expression crumpled, and she seemed to sink down into herself while insisting on holding his gaze and remaining upright. The obvious battle she was fighting called for more from him.
“Are you?”
Tears flooded her eyes. She swallowed so hard he could see her throat move with the effort. “I don’t let myself go there,” she said. “I don’t trust myself to know, for one thing. Not with everything else in my life so out of whack. But when she asked the question, my first response wasn’t even about me. It was about you.”
“About me?” He didn’t want to be having the conversation. Waited for it to be over so he could do cleanup duty. Make things better.