Page 54 of My Favorite Lost Cause
MAREN
Iwas Andrew’s hall pass, the one person he was allowed to step out of his marriage to sleep with should the opportunity present itself.
His wife told me. She’d thought it was funny. I’d pointed out that a hall pass was supposed to be someone famous, and she’d countered that Iwasrelatively famous.
So I’m not all that surprised when Andrew texts a few hours after the Zoom call.
Andrew
Do you have time to get dinner after I see the house?
Of course. There really isn’t a lot in Oak Bluff, however.
I was thinking we could have dinner in Beaufort? I got a hotel room there, just for Friday. Heading out to Hilton Head the next day.
It doesn’t make much sense. Beaufortis farther from Oak Bluff than Hilton Head is. And it also places me with my subpar driving on dark country roads.
I’m actually not the best driver. Oak Bluff might be better.
I’m happy to drive you back if that’s the issue.
Internally, I groan. It’s been a few years, but I’ve played this game before. The one where it’s late and a guy wants you to come upstairs for a drink, and then he’s suggesting you could just stay over.
It’s never, ever as PG-rated as he makes it sound when he’s talking you into it. And you feel like an absolute shrew for insisting on being taken home when all you’re asking is that he stick to the damn plan.
But then again, this is Andrew, who I know.
Andrew, the exact guy I always thought I should have married in the first place. It makes absolute sense that he wouldn’t want to eat in one of Oak Bluff’s two unappealing diners. Even if I’m not entirely comfortable with it...this seems like the sort of thing I should do if I want my life to move forward.
This is not going to fly with Charlie, though I’m not entirely sure why he cares whether Andrew has ulterior motives for coming down here. Andrew’s a good guy. A more supportive sibling would beencouragingAndrew’s ulterior motives if they kept me away from Harvey.
You sure weren’t thinking of him as a sibling the other night, though, were you Maren?
“Shut up,” I warn my internal voice.
I don’t know what the hell that was in the kitchen. Maybe I’m lonely. Maybe it’s just been so long since someone touched me that I forgot who I was with. Maybe Margaret is infiltrating my thoughts until I don’t know which way is up.
All the more reason to go on a date with someone else.
“No,”Charlie says flatly over breakfast.
I’ve just informed him of the plan. It’s not even a plan I’m interested in necessarily, but that doesn’t mean Charlie gets to saynoas if he’s in charge.
I set down my fork. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not going on a date with this guy just because he’s helping with the house. You’re sure as fuck not relying on him to get you home from Beaufort. We both know howthatturns out.”
“Just because you play those tricks doesn’t mean everyone does, Charles.”
“I’m the only man you know who doesn’thaveto resort to those tricks, Maren, but I assure you, that’s exactly what’s happening.”
He walks out without another word, leaving me to wash the plates by myself.
Sighing, I return to the cottage to get ready for my visit to Palmetto Reserve, the local country club: floral dress, curled hair, lots of makeup.
I carefully step onto the porch—the guys are working on the far end, but there are boards missing everywhere—and Charlie gives me a once-over. “What’s with the outfit?” he snarls. “Got another call with Andrew?”
I’m not one to fight in front of other people, but I don’t care who’s listening right now because this is nuts.
