Page 34 of The Roads We Follow

His voice comes out nearly as serene as whatever wind-chime melody is playing in this foyer. “I’m assuming he’s the one you’re trying to spare by finding the right time and place to communicate yourpotentially critical informationto?”

His word choice is a defibrillator to my memory, zapping me back to our conversation earlier on the drive.Wait—Micah thinks my question was related toTav? He thinks the reason I wanted to stay on the bus was to call my ex-boyfriend? It takes me a second to digest this new line of thought, but given my actual reason for wanting to stay behind, this one has to be an easier out ... right?

“How long were we together?” I repeat his original question in hopes of skipping over his most recent one. I don’t want to flat out lie to him. “Um, I guess that depends. Tav and I were close friends before we dated. The timeline kind of runs together.”

The slow bob of his chin causes me to zero in on his throat and the pronounced slide of his Adam’s apple. And then my gaze slips a notch lower to the raw edge of his T-shirt resting against his collar bone.

“So your breakup was recent?”

“Last fall,” I answer before I can stop myself.How does he keep doing that to me?

“Only, my guess is Tav doesn’t want it to be over, and you’re still debating on what it is you want.” The conclusion he draws feels too easy. Yet, he’s not entirely wrong.

“How did you ... I mean ... that’s really not any of your ... ” I blow out a hard breath that ripples the fabric of his shirt. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Needing a reprieve, I twist away from him to catch up with my family. Three attendants dressed in white are already going over the policies and procedures when we step up to the desk.

“Welcome.” A smiling woman with gorgeous dark eyes dips her head in greeting when we approach. She hands us each a key for our lockers in the changing room. “We hope you enjoy your soak and your time in the steam cave. Each of you has a slotted massage time, as well.”

“Thank you, Shirley,” Mama says, shaking her hand. “We appreciate you accommodating us today. Jana said your staff has gone above and beyond.”

Shirley dips her head. “It’s truly our pleasure, ma’am. The girls and I, well, we’re really big fans of your music.” The two young ladies at Shirley’s side nod vigorously—Katlyn and Carrie. “There were several rounds of rock, paper, scissors to see who would be assisting you and your family today.”

Adele steps forward. “Before we partake in any services today, I’d like to verify that Jana sent our standard confidentiality agreement when she rented this...” Adele cranes her neck in an arch as if trying to decide what she thinks of today’s unconventional destination. “...unique establishment.”

“Yes, ma’am, she certainly did. All waivers have been signed by our staff. We’re ready to accommodate you as discreetly as possible. We’re thrilled the Quapaw is a stop on your special trip.”

“Well, I, for one, am ready,” Hattie says. “I haven’t had a spa day since my kids were in diapers and Peter whisked me away to...” She stops herself, and suddenly none of us knows where to look.

Thankfully, Shirley knows how to take a cue. She opens her arms, showmanship-style, and addresses our group of five. “Before I have Katlyn and Carrie escort you to the locker rooms for towels and robes and your pre-showers, please allow me to give you a brief overview. The Quapaw is unique because it’s the onlypublicbathhouse on Bath Row. Our thermal pool room offers four mineral pools at varying temperatures for optimal benefits in circulation and overall wellness. While you relax, our staff will be standing by to assist you. Please let us know if you require any refreshments. We are also here to escort you to our steam cave built over a natural hot spring at your convenience.”

“Lovely. I’m certainly ready for a soak.” Mama tugs off her sun hat, lets her thick blond curls cascade down her back, and lifts her sunglasses to her head to reveal her perfectly smooth skin and moderately made-up face. All three attendants gawk at her. She starts to follow Carrie, our attendant, when she spins back and says, “At the risk of sounding presumptuous, if there’s any staff interested in taking a few selfies while I’m still dry, this would be the time. I promise my drowned-rat look is not nearly as appealing.”

“Oh yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Ms. Farrow!”

Adele stays as attendants from around the bathhouse gather around Mama while Hattie and I follow the pre-shower procedures before entering the thermal pools. My hair looks like a piece of abstract art after walking outside—like tangled arid noodles, hanging every which way. I’m desperate for a deep conditioning treatment.

Hattie and I leave the locker room wrapped in our fluffy whitespa robes, and I plead with God to let us be the first inside the pool. The gorgeous solarium boasts several arched, stained-glass skylights and four serene thermal pools. All are close in proximity but not connected to one another. And yet I’m struggling to tear my eyes away from the toned muscular back of the man standing across the room.

Hattie sheds her robe and pageant walks to each pool for a quick toe-dip.

“Oooh, this temperature is fabulous,” she calls out, wading in at a pace I wouldn’t be caught dead matching while wearing a swimsuit. The quicker I’m in, the less time there is to build an unwanted audience.

When Micah rotates toward us, I have to remind myself that I’m not watching one of those ridiculous pop-up ads where a shirtless guy rakes a hand through his hair and tells the viewer how great his new deodorant is while his abs glisten in the sunlight. Because unlike a commercial, where I can stare unabashedly at the toned torso of a man who can’t see me, Micah most certainly can.

Perhaps I’ll just take a swim with my robe on.

“...hook over there.”

“What?” I blink. He’s talking to me. By the looks of it, he’sbeentalking to me.

He ticks his head to the side. “There’s a hook for your robe over there.”

“Oh, right. Thanks. I’m just”—waiting for you to walk away first—“a bit chilled.”

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