Page 11 of Go Away, Darling

“I’ll agree with you on that,” he said, accepting the glass and taking a sip.

It was very hard—and I meanvery hard—to ignore how incredibly male Chris felt in my little kitchen. He was a little over six feet, broad, muscular, tan…he smelled like a man, as opposed to the apple juice, bananas, and bubble gum my son usually smelled like.

“Why did you move back?” I suddenly blurted out.

He paused, stared at his glass, seemed to study the condensation. “This was the only place that ever felt like home.” Then his eyes snapped up and met mine. Held.

I forgot how to stand.

“We should go outside and watch Linc fish. He’s good but sometimes he doesn’t know what to do.” I said that much louder than I meant to, so I also blushed on top of shouting.

Then I left the room before I could do anything else embarrassing.

Chris followed me silently.

I wandered closer to the dock than the porch. The backyard sloped down to the water where we had a little beach area. The dock shot straight out into the water and had a covered area at the end with a fish cleaning station. The mosquitos were out and no-see-ums were biting so I set about lighting the torches—anything to keep from staring at the world-class pitcher watching me.

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, Liv.”

I closed my eyes and sighed, even more embarrassed that he could tell I was uncomfortable. Talk about humiliating.

“What makes you think I’m uncomfortable?” I still didn’t turn around or look at him.

“I invited myself over,” he sighed. “I get it. You’re not available and here I am in your home. I apologize if this puts you in a spot.”

“Wait . . . what?” I spun to look at him. The last streaks of pink still painted the sky so his skin glowed, but his eyes danced sadly in the light of the torches. His hands were shoved in his jeans pockets, bunching his shoulders up around his ears.

“I shouldn’t be here—”

“I got one!” Linc shouted.

I jumped.

“Help!” Linc yelled, whooping. He wasn’t in trouble, just excited.

Chris sprang right into action, running down and standing behind Linc as he reeled in his fish.

Since Chris seemed to have things under control and I needed a moment to sort my thoughts, I took my time walking down. I heard Chris give Linc quiet directions.Slow down, don’t tug, wait . . . now!

And then Chris was holding the line up with a very large redfish flapping at the end.

Linc jumped up and down with the pole still in his hands. “Look Mom, look! I get to keep him, right?”

“He’s big enough to keep, bud,” Chris assured him.

Both of them looked to me with big eyes, like I was about to tell them they couldn’t keep a puppy.

“Of course you can keep him. We’ll have him for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Yeah!” Linc cheered.

“Good job.” Chris winked. Then he looked to me. “Can I help Linc take care of things?”

“Cleaning station’s right there.” I waved to the wood table where we cleaned our fish. “Hose is underneath.”

And then I watched as Chris and Linc worked together in the final light of the day, as if they’d been best friends all their lives and fishing was the greatest thing either of them could think of doing each day. Chris told more fishing stories and Linc started babbling about his week with his dad.

I brought Chris’s beer over, then wandered down the dock where I could still hear, but not feel so overwhelmed by all the things I was feeling. I didn’t understand any of them. Why was I reacting to this stranger? Was Chris a stranger? I didn’t know him, not really. Spending a year with him when he was a kid and watching him pitch on television didn’t mean I knew him.

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