“My daughter Sofie sometimes volunteers with protective services,” he adds. “Turns out, you’ve met her friend Kirilee?Something about you volunteering at the community art center she runs?”
“Oh my goodness, yes.” A surprised laugh bubbles out of me. Is this the reason for the strained energy pouring off Rowdy since we sat down? “Kirilee is adorable, and her senior painting class is a hoot.”
He smiles enough to make that dimple pop. “I can only imagine. Have you taught art before?”
“I was a TA in college.” I spoon up another bite. “Not quite the same thing.”
He glances up, his spoon halfway to his lips. “So you studied art?”
I break off a piece of the bread from the same slice he did to give my fingers something to do besides twist in my napkin. “Not formally. My parents urged me to find a career that would give me stability. So I went into graphic design and marketing.”
He cocks his head, frowning. “Not terrible advice, but maybe a little harsh?”
“They meant well, and stability is good.” I sip from my water, the bubbles lighting up my tongue. “It came in handy when my kids were little and my husband lost his job.”
His lips tighten in a grimace. “That sounds tough.”
“We pulled through.” It’s the diplomatic answer, but there’s no need for the longer version.
“How long were you married?” Behind us, the fire in the hearth snaps.
“Too long,” I manage, my laugh taking me by surprise. “We divorced as soon as the kids graduated from high school.”
He studies me for a moment. It’s intense, but being the subject of his curiosity is making me sit up a little straighter. “You stayed together because of them?”
“Not at first. I really believed we’d work things out. I thought we’d have more children, that our financial situationwould improve.” Regret plucks my heartstrings. “But those things didn’t happen, and financially, a divorce would have been devastating, and I couldn’t hurt the kids like that. It’s part of the reason I kept painting.” I glance at the big landscape hanging over the dining room table, a sense of pride creeping in. For years I painted in secret, because Drew would have made me give it up. If nothing else because we couldn’t afford the supplies, but deep down, it would have been his insecurities clouding his thinking. “It was an escape, but I knew someday it would pay off.”
“Looks like it has.”
I risk a glance just in time to catch the look of admiration on his face. “How did you become a conservation officer?”
“As a kid, I wanted to be a Park Ranger. But those jobs, especially back then, were seasonal with measly pay and zero security. Hard enough when you’re single, but brutal on a family.”
“Have you always been so responsible?” I ask just as a beam of sunlight streaks through the window, turning the downy hairs on his corded forearms golden. I have the urge to dig up my sketch pad and charcoal so I can try to capture it, which takes me by surprise. When was the last time I sketched just for fun?
“Probably?” Rowdy says with a laugh before spooning up more soup. “I always knew I wanted a family. I didn’t plan to start so young, but it just worked out that way.”
“Are your children close in age?” I only saw his son that night of the film festival, and it was from afar.
“Jesse and Sofie are two years apart. Then an eight-year gap before Linnie.”
I shoot him a curious look. “A surprise?”
“More like my last hope.”
If my uterus wasn’t in the process of closing up shop, I’m sure it would be humping his leg right now. “Being a single dad with your job must have been quite the challenge.”
“Fortunately, Jesse and Sofie helped out a lot. Especially Sofie. She took on a parenting role with Linn.”
The fire pops and a log settles with awhoomph. “Where was your ex?”
His spoon halts on the way to his mouth. “California.”
“So the divorce wasn’t just a parting of ways?”
“You could say she found herself a better deal and took it.”
I stare at him, my jaw hanging open. “As in, she just up and left you all?”