I smile a little. “Not the details. But I know something happened because Derby came back looking like he got hit in the soul with a brick.”
Amelia’s cheeks turn pink. “He stopped because I didn’t know if it was pretend.”
“Good.”
“It made me want him more.”
“That also sounds right.”
“It shouldn’t.”
“Probably not.”
She gives a tiny laugh. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m being sensible.”
“I try not to lie to women in crisis.”
Her laugh fades. “I’m still married.”
“Yes.”
“I have a child.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t need a man.”
“No.”
“But I want one.” She looks horrified by her own confession. “Not a man. Him. And I barely know him, Sophie. I know his motorcycle’s name. I know he makes terrible grilled cheese and fixes blanket forts like structural integrity matters in dinosaur caves. I know he stops when I don’t know what I want. That is not enough to want somebody.”
“It can be enough to start.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t trust myself.”
“That may be the smartest thing you’ve said.”
Her eyes lift.
“You don’t have to trust every feeling,” I say. “Feelings can be bruised. Starved. Drunk on relief. But you can notice them without obeying or punishing yourself for having them.”
She wipes under one eye. “You sound like you know.”
I think of Legend. I think of my father. I think of the secret sitting between my ribs, spreading poison through every wedding decision I make.
“I do,” I say.
Her expression changes. “Are you okay?”
That almost makes me laugh.
Amelia, who came to us with her whole life in boxes, her husband hunting her, and her son asking about locked doors, is looking at me like I might need help.
“I’m engaged to a man who would burn half Kentucky if someone messed with me,” I say.
Then I think, I’m planning a wedding in an old jail clubhouse with his pregnant ex, Becki threatening Royal overpickles, Cornbread inventing meat cake, and Derby accidentally becoming a family man. Of course I’m not okay.
She smiles.