She kind of wanted him to finish it himself, in his head.
She immediately felt peculiarly raw, again, like she’d said too much.
But he took all this in with that same flattering interest.
“Oh yeah, believe me, I completely get it,” he said easily. He curled one hand around the post. “I’m on about four nonprofit boards locally, I’m in a softball league, I run a sort of informal group for veterans, I’m helping Mac and Avalon get their programs for at-risk kids and veterans up and running, I pinch-hit as soccer or basketball coach as needed, and next week I’m even standing in for a couple of days for Ray—”
“Ray, the guy who directs the kid pickup after school? Parking-monitor Ray? What’s going on with Ray?” Her mom usually picked up Annelise after school, but Eden did occasionally, too. Everyone knew Ray.
“Gallbladder. I’ll get a sub in by the end of next week. Mrs. Maker is circulating a card if you want to get in on that.”
“I’ll add it to my whiteboard.”
He flashed a grin. “I guess what I’m saying is I swear sometimes I forget what the inside of my house looks like, because I come home and I’m out like a light the minute I hit the bed, then I get up and do it some more. And I love my job—I love making sure kids have what they need to thrive and shine, helping the teachers get it... I mean, one kid is like a wholeworld—often they’re enchanting and other times they bore or madden the crap out of you, but it’s all a piece of the puzzle. It’s impossible not to give yourself over to that. They deserve everything we can give them.”
But as she listened to this, she had a hunch there was areasonhe didn’t want to be home at his presumably empty-apart-from-him house.
She in fact had a million questions, all jostling for the exits. But once she started, she didn’t know if she could stop.
And who had time for that?
So she just smiled. Wistfully.
He stirred, restlessly, almost as if she’d stroked her hand slowly along his arm.
“Yeah,” she agreed softly, finally. “That’s my life in a nutshell.”
“Guess it’s next to impossible for busy adults like us to date.” He shrugged.
“Guess so,” she said after a moment.
She was fully aware that it was ridiculous to feel a little put out that he didn’t sound more regretful.
Becauseshewas relieved. Right? She was off the hook! She wouldn’t have to relearn another person from the ground up, or shave her thighs, or buy better bras, or worry about yet another human’s feelings.
Funny howreliefsuddenly felt like a synonym fordisappointment.
It was possible the two feelings had arrived swirled together, like the vanilla and chocolate frosty cones Annelise loved. Reliefappointment?
And then... he actuallyglanced at his phone. Then turned it around to show her: Six fifty-nine. She’d told Annelise they had to get going by seven at the latest.
“I bet you get chatted up a lot at the flower shop, though,” he teased suddenly.
“Oh, sure,” Eden said. “Often by guys buying flowers because they did something to piss off their wives.”
He laughed. “Have pity on us poor fools. Maybe the 2.0 version of men will have a bug fix. Now, ifIwas going to attempt to fascinate a woman like you—”
They whipped their heads around at a muffled thundering sound and saw Annelise skipping down the stairs and barreling toward the door, followed by Avalon and Mac. Avalon, good girl, was yelling, “Annelise Harwood, don’t run on the stairs!”
At seven on the dot, Annelise burst through the doors exuberantly. “Uncle Mac gave me some broccoli to go!”
“Wow, that isawfullygenerous of him.”
But her sister Avalon was behind Annelise, carrying the trifold paper, her face a gleaming question mark, and it was seven o’clock, and they had to get going, and Avalon was going to have to keep wondering about their conversation.
Gabe was already in the house, talking to Mac.
But damned if Eden wasn’tdyingto hear the end of his sentence.