What Lovers Do

He jolts forward, pressing his hand to it so I can’t close it. “Sorry I had a little too much wine last night. That was bad on my part since you’re not drinking right now.”

I wait, inspecting my toenails painted black.

I wait awhile longer. Nothing.

Slowly risking a glance up, Shep greets me with a smile, a normal smile. Did he really not hear me last night? Impossible.

Maybe he drank so much he doesn’t remember. That would be an acceptable gift from God. Or is he being nice, really nice to me, by not bringing it up?

“It’s fine. I’m glad you had a fun evening. I’m going to get dressed. Help yourself to coffee.” I shut the door without giving him a chance to respond.

Taryn doesn’t mutter a word to me about cleansing on our way to the golf course. Dad must have said something to her. Shep plays the role of the drunk who forgot the night before or maybe the really nice gentleman role. I’m still not sure which one. Occasionally, my dad glances at me in the rearview mirror and gives me a look. It’s the fatherly pride look. Daddy dearest saves the day by silencing everyone from mentioning my explosive diarrhea episode.

“The banana help?” Dad whispers in my ear as soon as I get out of his Lexus sedan.

I give him a quick nod and grab my clubs from Shep, murmuring a clipped “thank you.” I wish I knew for sure what he does or doesn’t remember. Not knowing is its own kind of torture. But what am I supposed to say? “Do you remember that explosion that came out of my ass last night?”

“We’re good at this,” Shep says as he drives the cart to the first tee.

“At golf?”

He shakes his head, a secret hidden in his grin. “Living.”

“As opposed to dying?” I snort.

“Well … yeah. It’s not a holiday. You have a job. I have a job. Yet, here we are in Santa Monica playing golf on a regular ole Tuesday. I didn’t have to work that hard to talk you into inviting me, and my guess is your dad didn’t have to twist your arm to plan this visit. We’re good at the good stuff in life. Ya know?”

I nod slowly. “Was Millie not good at the good stuff? I thought you golfed with her and visited vineyards.” And had six-thirty a.m. sex that wasn’t like beating a dead horse.

“We did. But she wasn’t good at it. With Millie, I always felt like every moment was spent planning the next one, like she always lived five steps into the future, which meant she never really lived at all.”

Living in the moment is good. It means we don’t have to think about the previous night that involved cleansing or the future that involves my belly expanding.

“Have you talked to Jimmy lately?” Taryn asks as we come to a stop at the first tee. “I never asked if things ended amicably between the two of you. I assumed so since you don’t have a mean bone in your body.”

Taryn doesn’t know about Shep World, where Shep doesn’t know about Jimmy. She met Jimmy a month after we started dating. I’m not sure why they hit it off, but they did. Maybe she and my dad will adopt Jimmy, let him move in with them, and rehabilitate him before releasing him to the real world where things like holding a job, paying rent, and valuing a little dignity matter.

“I heard he’s working as a telemarketer.” I shrug, avoiding eye contact with Shep. I feel his gaze on me. “And his grandma died not that long ago.” Look at me being honest. Not a mean bone in my body. Nope. Never once have I thought of doing bodily harm to Jimmy.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Taryn takes a practice swing. “If you see him, give him my condolences.”

I mumble a quick “sure” while slipping on my glove.

“Jimmy …” Shep says just above a whisper as he hands me my driver.

I lift my gaze to his, waiting for him to elaborate. Jimmy what?

No, Shep. You don’t need to know about Jimmy.

He doesn’t elaborate. All I get is two seconds of Shep’s contemplative gaze on me before he pushes my white-framed transition glasses up my nose until I have to wrinkle my nose to let them slide back down a bit. Sometimes I think he pushes them up so far just to annoy me.

This is where I’d normally ask if he’s jealous of this mysterious Jimmy guy, but his bad sex comment has my ego in a bit of a chokehold.

“Why do you insist on messing with my glasses?”

He smirks. “Just getting in your head, Dr. Ryan. Just … getting in your head …” he says before following my dad and Taryn to tee off.