Page 41 of Nothing Less than Magic
“Why aren’t you still close? What happened?”
I stare out over the lake into the distance, deciding how to answer, because it’s complicated between Lolly and me. I suspect it would be complicated for any family with our background. “She thinks I deserted her.”
“Did you?”
“I didn’t used to think so, but on further reflection, yeah, I probably did. We had some unpleasant stuff happen to us in our childhood, and I suppose the way I escaped it was to leave behind the people I loved most.”Unpleasantmay be my best euphemism yet, but talking about my parents’ murder-suicide has never come easy. “First, I got caught up with school, then trying to build a practice, then a business that put me on the road most months out of the year. I thought I was doing good work, but maybe I was running away.”
“Or it could be you were doing both.”
He takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, and for a long time, we just sit there like that, staring out over the lake, reveling in the sounds of nature, his big, warm palm in mine. And just like in my dream, I feel safe. The real kind of safe. Protected for the first time in my life.
“But it’s better now, right?” Knox is the first to break the silence. “You and your sister have mended your broken parts.”
“I don’t know. My sister can be mercurial. But I think we’re on our way back to each other.”
“That’s good,” he says.
“Very good. What about you, Knox? Why did that woman leave you for your best friend?” I can’t wrap my head around it. People leave all the time. Look at Austin and me. Look at what my father had done. But Knox . . . there’s something so captivating about him, something that makes you want to stick, at least to me.
“She said I wasn’t fun.”
I laugh, even though I shouldn’t. It was a hurtful thing to say. “She was wrong.”
“Yeah?” He grins. “I can be a pretty fun guy when I’m in the mood.”
“Did she break your heart, Knox?”
“At the time, I thought so. Now . . .” He shrugs. “She and I wanted different things. Eventually, that would’ve become a sticking point. But you’re the expert.”
“I suppose it would’ve depended on how much the two of you were willing to compromise. Marriage is always a series of compromises.”
“You put that on a sticker somewhere?”
I laugh. “It’s on my inspirational calendar. But seriously, were you willing to compromise?”
“On some things, sure. But probably not on the things that mattered most to her.”
“Like what?”
“Like money. She wanted a lot of it. As long as I have a roof over my head and food on the table, I’m fine. It’s more important to me to have a good life.”
“And what does a good life look like to you?”
He turns in his chair to face me and holds my gaze. “Are you trying to shrink me, Chelsea Knight?”
“Shrink you?” I arch a brow. “Maybe. Just answer the question, Hart.”
“A life that’s good is me doing exactly what I’m doing. Living on my family’s farm, teaching classes at UC Davis, writing the occasional book, and fixing roofs, using my hands.” His was still in mine.
“What about yours?” he says.
“Same. Doing exactly what I’m doing. Changing lives and giving people tools to a successful marriage.”
Perhaps it’s my imagination, but he seems disappointed by my answer, like somehow I got it wrong, like somehow I like the sound of it more than the thing itself.
“Well, as much as I like sitting here with you, I should get to work. That roof isn’t going to fix itself.” He untwines his hand from mine, and the urge to pull it back is overwhelming.
We walk together to the house, where we go our separate ways, me inside and he up the ladder.
