“What else is going on?” I pressed.
An uninitiated observer would have missed the flicker in her eyes, but I was a nosy little sister. I saw it all.
“Nothing,” she said innocently.
“Liar. You’ve been off since before Dad died. What’s going on? You might as well spill it because you know I won’t leave you alone.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Fine. I was seeing this guy, and it didn’t work out. It was nothing. No dramatic breakup. No tearful confrontation.”
My eyebrows winged up. “You were seeing someone and managed to keep it a secret in this town?”
“It wasn’t exactly a relationship I wanted broadcast to the world.”
“You had a secret, taboo affair and managed to keep it quiet? I’m impressed. Why did you dump him?”
“How did you—never mind. I’m too busy for a relationship. He wanted serious, and I didn’t—don’t—have the time for serious.”
My sister was the calm, collected person you’d want on your side in the middle of an emergency. She never let emotions get the best of her. The fact that she was pretending not to be upset about the breakup told me it was more than “nothing.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” I said, treading lightly.
“It’s fine. Thanks again for play rehearsal pickup. That’s been helpful,” Maeve said, reeling in her emotions.
I studied her for a moment, then decided to let it go…for now.
“Hey, do you and Chloe want to come over Sunday? We’ll make Dad’s chili and Mom’s cornbread and watch Erin Brockovich.” And I could sneakily work more information out of her about this mystery man.
“The Simon Walton Memorial Trifecta,” Maeve said with a smile. “Count us in.”
“Great.”
My sister packed up her tidy briefcase and got to her feet. “Listen. If you decide to dig into this Mary Louise case, let me know. I’m interested.”
“Thanks, Maevey Gravy,” I said wrapping her in a hug.
“Anytime, Sloaney Baloney.”
13
An Electrifying Dinner
Lucian
I
pulled my Range Rover into Knox’s driveway behind his truck. The lights were on in the big house, casting a glow that cut through the winter gloom. I’d loved coming here as a boy. The freedom Liza J and her husband, Pop, had allowed. Entire summers were spent here swimming in the creek, sleeping under the stars, climbing trees, daring each other to do the stupid shit of boyhood.
Of course, once we discovered girls, our priorities had changed.
The old timber house had changed as well. Since Knox and Naomi had moved in, there was a tidy order that had never existed before. There were candles in the windows and boughs of pine looped through the porch railing.
They’d gone all out for Christmas, their first as a family. It had been admittedly spectacular. I couldn’t blame Knox for the sleigh and reindeer on the roof. If I’d had a chance at a family like that, I’d probably go crazy overcompensating for all the holidays I hadn’t had as a kid too.
I got out of the car and debated smoking my cigarette now. Grabbing a last few quiet moments before going inside. It had been a feat of sheer willpower not to smoke it after leaving the library. The odds were I’d need it after dinner.
Sometimes I enjoyed these loud, casual gatherings, and other times I felt like a ghost haunting a happy family. As boys, Knox and Nash had accepted me for who I was. As men, we could pick up and put down our friendship at any time without consequences or hurt feelings.
But with Naomi and Lina now added to the mix, the relationship seemed to take on more responsibilities. If I disappeared to Washington or New York or Atlanta for weeks without contact, I had no doubt Naomi would track me down, demanding to know if everything was okay and when she could expect me back. Lina would, at the very least, expect a heads-up on my departure and a general timeline for my return. Both would take it personally if I went weeks or months without reaching out.
Women complicated things. And not just for the partners they chose. For everyone connected to their partners.
The front door banged open, and Knox ambled out just as headlights cut across the driveway. Muted music filled the night air over the rumble of engine.
Sloane’s Jeep pulled in behind my vehicle. The lights and engine cut out, but the music continued. It was “Man! I Feel Like a Woman.” I sighed. Some things never changed.
Knox reached me. He was wearing jeans and a thermal shirt in charcoal gray with one chewed-up sleeve.
“You didn’t tell me she was coming,” I said, hooking a thumb in the direction of the Jeep.
The song ended and the driver’s side door opened. Sloane slid to the ground, her cowboy boots landing with a clomp.
“Whose Rover?” she called out to Knox.
I stepped around the hood and watched her recoil.
“You didn’t tell me he was coming,” she snapped.
“This is exactly why I’m standing out here instead of opening my goddamn front door to you two,” Knox announced.
“What are you grumbling about now?” Sloane demanded, storming toward us. She was wearing leggings and an oversize ruby-red sweater that matched her lipstick. Her hair was half up and half down, with the length of it hanging in thick, careless waves. Casual. Touchable.
“Waylay and I had to listen to Naomi talk to herself for an hour about which one of you to uninvite tonight,” Knox explained.
“I believe the term is disinvite,” I said.
“Fuck you,” Knox replied.
“I don’t understand the conflict. I’m Naomi’s friend and her boss. Ergo, I win,” Sloane said testily.
“Yeah, well, Luce here is my friend. And apparently Naomi is worried about him,” Knox added.
I ignored the smug look on Sloane’s face. “There’s nothing to worry about,” I insisted, both annoyed and oddly comforted that someone out there was worried for me.
“Besides being a soulless cadaver hell-bent on bringing misery to all,” Sloane added.
“Just you, Pixie. I only live to destroy your happiness,” I said.
“That right there is the reason I’m freezin’ my ass off in my driveway instead of making out with my wife. So this is what’s going to happen. The three of us are going to go inside, and you two are going to behave like adult humans with impulse control. Or else…”
Sloane’s eyes narrowed. “Or else what?”
She always had the wrong reaction to challenges like that.
Knox’s grin was wicked. “I’m glad you asked. Since I don’t want Naomi to know about this and since I can only punch one of you in the face and since I’m a little bit afraid of you”—he pointed at Sloane—“I had to get creative.”
He held up two small boxes with wires running out of them.
Sloane was already shaking her head. “No. Nope. No freaking way.”
“Oh, yes freaking way,” he insisted.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Well, Lucy,” Knox continued conversationally. “These here are transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation machines, a.k.a. TENS, a.k.a. period cramp torture devices the girls at Honky Tonk deploy during their Code Reds every month. They tape these sticky pad things onto a guy’s stomach and proceed to shock the shit out of him to show him what they go through on a monthly basis.”