I shake my head. “Nothing. Let's just go to dinner.”
We sit at the table and I force myself to forget about Luke's picture as I attempt to put on a smile.
“Why are you scowling?” Fig asks me.
Mac laughs. “Probably because Rye’s always in a bad mood.”
Prairie, though, looks over at me with a frown, not understanding their words.
I hold her hand protectively under the table.
Not wanting her to understand at all.
10
PRAIRIE
Sitting at the family dinner table, I add more spaghetti and meatballs to my plate, focusing on the amazing food in front of me instead of the inside jokes and chatter that swirl around. There's a lot of people here and a lot of interpersonal dynamics that I can't begin to understand.
Though, on the surface, there are a few easy things to pick up.
Fig is the quintessential baby who everyone likes to tease and she's pretty good at fighting right back.
Reuben and Graham appear to have a relationship where they're butting heads a lot but can hug it out over a beer at the end of the day. Lemon seems like she is tired and needs someone to give her a few days off. Bartlett and his new wife Abby are lovey-dovey, happy as can be, which makes me smile. Mac and Rye seem like they get along pretty well and are sitting side by side. Plum is in between her grandparents, who dote on her lovingly.
For the most part, all you see on the surface is a loving family who look out for one another. Just like Leila told me they did.
When we went shopping today, she told me to think of the Roughs like a bear family. They look after one another too.
Red is like a big old teddy bear.
Annie is a mama bear who looks after her cubs.
The advice was pretty good, and I tried to see how I could apply it. But right now, when I look over at Rye, what I see is a grizzly bear. He seems downright angry, the likes of which I haven't really seen all week.
We've been spun up in one another in a way that probably is typical of two people who are falling in love. We stay up late talking about our dreams for the future. We wake up with smiles on our faces, exploring one another's bodies.
We've been watching his favorite movies, and Rye got me an email address and helped me catch up on current events I missed.
We spent a week wrapped up in one another and that felt good and right and real. But sitting here now, I'm seeing a different side of him. He's not happy.
He's grumpy and not in a way that turns me on—in a way that makes me wonder what the heck has happened.
The moment we entered that hallway, he suddenly tensed.
Maybe he has something against family photos.
Maybe someone around this table upset him.
I wish I knew more. I wish I'd known Rye longer than a week. I wish I'd known him my whole life.
But I'm not going to go there, get caught up in the wishing, because I can't take back what happened to me in the last four years.
That happened whether or not I liked it, and all I can do now is move on.
Once we finish dinner and the boys are doing the dishes, Fig asks if I'd like to come upstairs. “I was thinking you probably don't have a lot of clothes. Not to get too personal, but your situation has been pretty rough. So I thought maybe you'd like some of my things. Not to be weird or give you hand-me-downs, but I have six brothers and sisters and a lot of distant relatives. And everyone always buys me clothes for every Christmas and every birthday, and, well…” She shrugs. “I think we're the same size.”
I nod. “Yeah, I bet. And thanks for thinking of me.”