Page 17 of This Time Around
“Yep,” he said, applying another strip to his teeth. “Would you mind shutting off the TV? This is the episode where Ramona looks at real estate, and I’ve already seen it.”
“You’ve watched Real Housewives of New York City?”
“Yep. It’s my guilty pleasure after Paige goes to sleep. Can I have some of that green face goop?”
Allie stared at him a moment, then picked up the remote and switched off the TV. “Why are you doing this?”
“So you stop feeling embarrassed and exposed and sit down on the damn sofa with me and have a snack.” He put down the box of whitening strips and turned to grin at her.
Allie felt something soften in the center of her chest. “You look like a dork.”
“Yep. That’s the idea.”
The corners of her mouth twitched up, threatening to morph into a smile. “And you can’t eat snacks with those things on your teeth.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.” He reached into the shopping bag again and pulled out a can of non-dairy whipped topping. He popped the top off and opened his mouth, aiming straight down his throat.
The hollow, foamy sound was both familiar and foreign, and Allie tried not to remember the times in college when she’d walked in to find him doing this in the kitchen. Or the other times when he’d brought the can of whipped cream into the bedroom and?—
“All right,” she said, stepping around the sofa. “You win.” She sat down beside him, her butt landing a little closer to him than she’d aimed for. Her thigh touched his, but it felt awkward to move away, so she grabbed the can of whipped cream out of his hand. She hesitated a second, then squirted it straight onto her tongue.
“Nice,” Jack said.
“This is disgusting.” She lifted the can again and took another hit, enjoying the creamy sweetness more than she expected.
Jack grabbed the can back and squirted another mouthful, smacking his lips. Then he set the can down on the table and rested one massive palm on her knee, just like it belonged there.
“Look, there’s nothing I can say about your grandma that will make this hurt any less,” he said. “Anything I have to offer will just sound trite and clichéd and won’t cancel out the fact that you won’t bake cookies together again or hear her tell you how much she paid for the antique carving set at Thanksgiving dinner. You’ll never get to hug her or smell those fancy roses she put all over the house. You’ll go to buy Mother’s Day cards and you’ll realize you need to buy one less than you did the year before, and you’ll end up standing there in the aisle at Target bawling like an idiot while people bump into you with their shopping carts, and it’s going to suck like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”
He held her gaze with his, and Allie felt a tear slip through the green goo on her cheek.
“Hypothetically speaking,” he added softly.
“Hypothetically speaking,” Allie whispered as the tear dropped onto the leg of her sweats, making another discolored spot. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You get it.”
“I do.”
She bit her lip, then thought better of it when she tasted minty clay. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” he said. “I’ve spent enough time telling random strangers how one shitty car accident left my kid motherless and made me a widower. I don’t need to relive it.”
“I’m sorry.” Her throat felt thick again, but it was clear from the look on Jack’s face that he didn’t want her to ask more questions. “And I take back what I said about your amazing, perfect life. You’ve obviously been through hell.”
He nodded and picked up the whipped cream can again. He tilted his head back and took another hit, and Allie felt her shoulders relax for the first time since she’d gotten the call about her grandma.
When they looked at each other again, something felt different between them. Allie couldn’t put her finger on it, but it seemed like something had shifted.
“So . . . Wade—” Jack prompted. “Not your fiancé after all?”
Allie shook her head, grateful to the green goo for hiding her flaming cheeks. “Not my fiancé. Sorry. I spent yesterday evening worrying you’d notice the engagement ring I was wearing was an old pinkie ring my grandmother used to wear.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I kept close track of your grandmother’s pinkie rings.” He picked up her left hand, an absent gesture, but one that sent goose bumps up Allie’s arm. He studied her bare hand, turning it from side to side before setting it back on the sofa. His palm rested lightly on the back of her hand, and Allie wondered if it was force of habit or something else that left his fingers touching hers.
“So Wade’s just a friend, then?”
