Page 57 of Class Act

I looked directly at him, feeling confident in the moment. “Do you find shy people as confusing as I find outgoing people?” I teased.

“Not at all. The quiet thinkers are the ones running the show, and they get us big-mouths to go out and do the work. We need different kinds to get anything done.” He looked back at me. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Normally a direct question like that, especially from someone like him, would have had me blushing, but tonight none of those emotions hit. Instead, I bit my lips while I thought about it. Yes, he made me uncomfortable, but it was more about how I wanted to crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck than about his personality being unreserved. Some of my best friends were total extroverts--Ruby for example-- and I didn’t feel uneasy around them.

He watched me for a second and then grinned. “I’m going to guess the answer is yes, and you’re trying to find a way to politely tell me that it’s not me, it’s you.”

I laughed, breaking into a wide grin, my dimples sinking into place. “Well, it’s true. It’s not me making trouble.” I shook my head and put a hand lightly on his bare shoulder. His skin was warm, and the muscle underneath was firm. “I was actually thinking that some of my best friends are extroverted. It doesn’t bother me.” I dropped my hand back under the water and onto my lap.

His eyes found mine and then slid back to watching his kids. “Heather was as extroverted as I am.” The shock of him mentioning his late wife made my smile disappear. “At first it was great to have a person who wanted to get out there and experience everything together with no hesitation. She didn’t shy away from anything.”

My heart sank, listening to him talk about her. The admiration in his voice was clear. “She must have been really fun,” I said.

“Yeah, for a while. But then we became parents, and she really struggled with how that ties you down. She . . . ”

When he hesitated, I wanted to nudge his foot with mine, something I would have done to one of my friends to keep them talking, but I didn’t want to pry with our new and complicated friendship.

“You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to,” I offered.

“Did you know she was a teacher? Like you?”

My eyebrows rose, caught off guard. “I had no idea.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, she taught high school math. She really like it, but after Hillary was born it seemed like she couldn’t settle back into her own skin and find her footing. Something about having a second child was overwhelming.”

I wasn’t a mother myself, but as a teacher I had a small idea of how much pressure, worry, work, and exhaustion could come with parenthood. “That must have been really difficult,” I replied.

“We worked hard to help her find a balance. She loved her job, and I was supportive of that. We met with a therapist and decided to hire a live-in nanny. I did my best to help her schedule weekend trips with her friends a few times. It wasn’t an easy time. My company was being built at the same time, and I wasn’t always as available as I should have been.”

I nodded, sympathetic to how hard that must have been for him to see his wife struggling, doing his best to be there for her while also building his career. Those years of life would have been very demanding.

“I’m sure you both did your best,” I said.

I waited to see if he’d say more, but after a few seconds of him lost in his own head, I saw the shift from serious to playful, and he sat up with the bright smile that made my fingertips tingle.

“When is the last time you participated in a pool game?” he asked.

“Never,” I said, watching as he stood from the steps and turned to face me.

“Look, I know you probably think that at forty I should grow up a little, but we all have to blow off steam now and then, right?”

I nodded, thinking about how my dad in his sixties still hadn’t totally lost his boyishness. “Of course.”

“Great.” He reached for my hand, pulling me to stand. I floated toward him, the water providing no resistance until we were practically touching and I had to put my toes against the bottom of the pool to keep from pressing up against him. “Slide or diving board?” he asked, still holding my hand, our fingers flexing lightly together.

“I don’t know. You pick, I guess?”

I couldn’t have made a choice to save my life, not with the way his large fingertips were skirting up and down my palm.

He squeezed my fingers. “Okay, diving board.”

He took my hand firmly and pulled me toward the ladder at the deep end of the pool, letting go of my hand when it was too deep to walk so that I could swim along behind him. I followed hesitantly, wondering what I was swimming into. Ford climbed out first, reaching a hand down to pull me up and out of the water. I stood, dripping, next to his side while he called his kids over.

“We’re playing jump or dive,” he said when we were all huddled together.

“I’m the caller.” Henry raised his hand.

“Ah,” Hillary griped. “Fine, but I’m caller next round.”

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