She carried guilt about that now she'd said so. And he was self-aware enough to wonder how much of this was her making it right versus something that was actually real. He pulled into his driveway, carried Lily inside, got her to bed without fully waking her. He stood in the hallway for a moment after.
The house was quiet the way it always was on Sunday nights. A specific kind of quiet that used to feel like peace and now mostly felt like the absence of noise. He went to the kitchen, stood at the counter, did not pick up his phone, made it 11 minutes before he picked up his phone. No new messages.
He put it face down and went to bed. Sandra called on Monday morning. He was in the truck coffee in the cup holder 10 minutes from a job in Kenwood. He picked up because he always picked up when it was Sandra, not out of affection out of Lily.
There was always a chance it was something about Lily. She left her library book at my place. Sandra said the horse one. She's going to want it.
I'll get it at pickup Thursday. Okay. A pause. The pause Sandra used when she wasn't finished but was deciding how to proceed.
He knew that pause like a weather pattern. She told me you went to IKEA. He kept his eyes on the road. Yeah.
With Clare. I drove the truck. She needed a truck. Another pause.
Longer. Nathan. Sandra. I'm not I'm not calling to start anything.
Her voice was careful, controlled. I just want to say that Clare is my best friend and she's been going through some things this year and I don't want She called me for a ride 3 weeks ago. He said, keeping his voice even. Her car broke down.
I drove her home. We've talked a few times since. That's the complete story. She didn't tell me about the ride.
That's between you and her, Nathan. Sandra. He kept his voice level the way he'd learned to keep it after 2 years of learning. I'm going to pick Lily up Thursday.
I'll get the book. If there's something about our daughter, you need to tell me I'm listening. If there's something else, I'm not the right person for that conversation. Silence.
Then just be careful. I'm always careful. He ended the call. He drank his coffee.
He went to work. But his hands weren't entirely steady on the first cabinet he pulled, and Russ noticed and had the good sense not to say a word. He didn't call Clare that day or the next, not because he decided anything, more because he needed to think without the thinking being contaminated by actually talking to her, which had started to feel like the conversational equivalent of standing too close to a fire. pleasant, then warmer than you planned. Then suddenly aware that stepping back was its own kind of decision.
On Wednesday, she texted Doorstop, knocked the new lamp off the table. It survived. He's devastated by this. He stared at it.
He typed, "Serves him right for the spatial aggression." She sent back a photo of Doorstop sitting next to the lamp with an expression of complete innocence. He was smiling before he caught himself. He put the phone down, picked it up, typed. Can I ask you something always?
Sandra called me Monday. She knows we've been talking. The three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Took longer than usual.
I know. She called me Tuesday. What did she say? She asked me what was going on.
I told her we'd talked a few times. She asked if I had feelings for you. He sat with that for a second. His chest was doing the thing it did.
What did you tell her? Another long pause. I told her I didn't know yet, which is the truth. He read it twice.
Then he put the phone face down on the counter and stood in his kitchen and stared at the wall for a full minute. Then he picked it up and typed. I think we should talk in person. Okay.
She wrote back. When? Friday. Lily's with Sandra.
Okay. she said again. "And then I'll make dinner. Don't bring a truck this time." He exhaled. Something that might have been a laugh.
Deal. Friday came the way important days always do. Too fast and too slow at the same time with too much ordinary life in between. He dropped Lily at Sandra's at 5, stood on the front step long enough to make sure Lily had everything caught Sandra's eyes over Lily's head for exactly one second.
Sandra's face was unreadable. His probably was, too. He drove to Clare's. She answered the door in jeans and a dark green sweater.
Something on the stove that smelled like garlic and something else good. Doorstop materialized from somewhere and sat directly on Nathan's shoes. He does that to everyone he likes. Clare said, "I feel chosen." "You should." She stepped back.
"Come in." The apartment felt different without Lily in it, quieter, more deliberate. He sat at her small kitchen table while she finished cooking, and they talked around the thing they were going to talk about for a while. Both of them aware of it, neither of them in a rush. She'd made pasta, she poured wine, they ate.
It was only when the plates were cleared and the wine was lower that she sat back and looked at him directly and said, "Okay." "Okay," he said. "I've been thinking about what I said about not knowing yet." "I have too, and I want to be honest with you because I think you've had enough people not be honest with you." "I appreciate that. This is complicated," she said. "I know that.
I'm not pretending it isn't. She's my best friend." Or she was. I don't fully know what we are right now, honestly, because this year has shown me some things about her that I'm still working through. She wrapped her hands around her wine glass.
But I'm not using you to work through them. I need you to know that. I know that. Do you?