Jonah laughs. “Don’t blame him. Heard her husband is a bear.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Marie watching us. Where I was once sympathetic to her status as the woman with unrequited feelings for Jonah, today I’m finding myself less inclined to care and more determined to make my feelings for Jonah—and his for me—clear.
Brash impulse takes over, and I shimmy from my chair to Jonah’s lap, wriggling in comfortably, my arm curling around his shoulders. “You’ve been over there the entire time since we sat down,” I say, trying to keep the accusation from my tone.
Jonah frowns. “Yeah, I figured you and Diana would want some time alone.”
Leave it to Jonah to be considerate. “What I want is to spend my birthday with my favorite people.” I smooth a hand over his broad chest and up over the thick column of his throat, admiring the jagged bump in it. “That means you.”
He gives my thigh a squeeze. “Where is Di, anyway? Did she fall asleep in there?”
“Almost,” Diana announces, reappearing as if on cue. She flops more than sits in her seat. “I walked into a wall. Both literally and figuratively. I can’t tell if I’m really drunk or really jet-lagged, or both, but I’m sorry, I don’t have another hour in me. I’m not giving that best-friend badge back, though. I’ve earned it.” Her glossy, tired gaze lands on the camouflage case. “What is that?”
“My birthday present from Muriel. It’s a gun,” I say slowly, giving her a look.
“Wow. A gun.” Diana’s eyes widen in that “are you fucking kidding me?” way. “You have a gun. And it’s just right here, on the table in the bar, beside my martini.”
Jonah chuckles. “Lemme go lock it up in the Jeep while you two finish your drinks. It’s time to go home.” He eases me off his lap, his palm smoothing over my backside in the process.
“So, you can do that around here? Just give someone a gun for their birthday? And they can go lock it up in their car and take it home and do … whatever with it?” Diana asks soberly.
“As long as they’re not certifiable or a criminal.” He smirks. “Is there something we should know about Calla?”
“Oh yeah, she’s certifiable all right. Certifiably in love with you,” Diana draws out her words, earning his snort and my laugh.
Marie appears, her purse slung over her shoulder. “Hey, guys, I’m gonna leave now. I have a sick puppy in the clinic that I should probably check on before I go home.”
Relief fills me that I won’t have to deal with Marie fawning over Jonah for much longer.
“Perfect timing. I’ll walk you out.” Jonah collects the gun.
“Happy birthday, Calla.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
My return smile feels equally forced. “Thanks for coming.” I drop into my chair and watch her trail Jonah out the door, full of unease. I don’t care what she told Jonah—that woman is only tolerating me because of him.
“A sick puppy in the clinic?” Diana gives me a questioning look.
“She’s a veterinarian.”
“Huh. So, Jonah’s best friend is a beautiful woman who literally saves cute, cuddly baby animals, and you’re totally okay with this.”
“And she’s in love with him. Don’t forget that part,” I add bitterly, taking a swig of my drink.
Diana presses her lips together, struggling to hold her opinion to herself.
“No, I’m not okay with it,” I finally admit. Not lately, anyway. Not today. “But I trust Jonah.” I don’t trust her out there with him when I’m questioning the endurance of our relationship in here. “Let’s finish these and go.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ten minutes later, after guzzling a potent drink that has left my head swimming and thanking Muriel, Toby, and Teddy each in turn for their kindness, we’re strolling out the door, arm in arm, a slight stumble to our step. Loud music and voices carry out the open windows into the quiet, clear night.
“This is so weird,” Diana moans, staring at the sun that clings to the horizon—a hazy orange thanks to the smoke in the sky. We’ve passed the equinox and the days are already getting shorter, but for now, a near-midnight sun is still a recurring event.
My shiny blue Jeep is parked ahead, where Toby put out a Birthday Guest of Honor sign atop a pylon to reserve our spot for the night. Jonah isn’t there. I spot him farther down in the lot, leaning against the side of Marie’s pickup, so deep in conversation, he hasn’t seemed to notice us yet. I can’t see her, hidden by Jonah’s broad form and between two trucks, but I can imagine her teal-blue eyes, peeled wide as she gazes up at him longingly.
That’s an awfully long goodbye.
My stomach churns with thoughts of what they could be talking about—namely, me. Has he divulged this morning’s disaster to her, in the spirit of needing advice again? What would she say? What harsh little truths would she whisper in his ear? They won’t necessarily be wrong. He does tend to be impatient, and passionate, and move fast.
But who is she really trying to help here?
I am not the jealous, insecure girlfriend type who doesn’t allow her boyfriend to have attractive female friends, who storms in on them and demands to know what’s going on, as if there must be something nefarious in the works every time they’re alone.
I tell myself this, even as I release my grip of Diana and my feet move of their own accord.
“I’ll wait here,” Diana’s words are followed by a hiss and a slap against her skin. She refused to put on bug spray, claiming it would clash with her perfume. “Get him to unlock the Jeep doors?”
I throw a thumbs-up to her and keep walking. The closer I get, the less the music carries, the more I can hear of their conversation.
And the more I hear, the slower is my approach, the lighter are my steps.
“… fly out in the morning and be back by Monday night,” I hear Marie say.
“Yeah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea anymore.”
“Why not? She has her friend here. And I haven’t been out to the villages in months.”
Marie is trying to get Jonah to fly her out west. They used to do that all the time, back when he lived in Bangor. She’d come in on the regional airline that travels between Bangor and Anchorage daily. They’d spend days together, hopping from village to village, Marie the Animal Crusader, saving lives. She could find another pilot to fly her around, of that I’m sure.
But it’s becoming more and more clear to me that she doesn’t want another pilot.
She wants mine.
He reaches up to work his fingers through his hair, sending it into disarray. The black shirt I bought him clings to his frame, showing off the angles of his muscular shoulders and his trim waist. I can’t help but admire him, even as my fists tighten by my sides and I imagine storming in between them to scream my accusations in a fit of rage.
“Yeah, I know, but things aren’t great right now,” Jonah says, a touch more softly.
I falter. My stomach, already tight, clenches.
Aren’t great?
Jonah thinks things aren’t great? Things between us, he means, obviously.