Page 113 of The Rebound
“Hello!” Tomasz says, appearing behind my shoulder. “Did you bring dessert?”
“I did,” Luke says, handing over a cheesecake from Beth’s. His attention turns back to me. “How are you—”
“Abby!”
Susan edges around Luke, beaming at me. “How did it go? Have you heard anything yet?”
“Leave the child be,” Pat says, coming in after her. “It’s too early to hear back from a place like that.” He turns to me, his voice dropping. “You haven’t, have you?”
“No.”
“Far too early,” he declares. “Louise! Do I smell garlic potatoes?”
“You do,” she calls from the kitchen as Tomasz leads them inside, prying open the lid to the cake.
Luke and I are left alone.
He clears his throat. “Shall we—”
“Yep,” I say, spinning on my heel toward the kitchen.
The hourdrags. Even with Luke beside me. Even with Louise’s cooking. Even with Pat and Susan keeping up a steady stream of conversation until the last slice is gone. I’m distracted, irritable even. Surrounded by good food and people who love me and all I want to do is ask them to leave.
The only thing that gets me through it is knowing Luke feels the same way. He fidgets, he barely eats, he smiles a beat too late when someone makes a joke. I know this because I’m so aware of his every movement I swear I know when he blinks.
Finally, all the food is gone but Pat and Susan are still chatting away, about what I don’t even know anymore, and I’m two seconds away from doing something drastic when Luke’s knee nudges mine under the table.
“Do you want to—”
“Okay.” I stand so quickly the chair scrapes against the floor. Everyone’s eyes snap to us.
“Leaving, Abby?” Louise asks as if I’m sneaking out of the house to meet a boy. Which, okay, I guess I’m doing but she doesn’t need to sound so smug about it.
“I thought we might…” I look to Luke.
“Find the heron,” he finishes after a beat.
“You’re going to find the heron,” Louise repeats flatly.
“Yep!” I squeeze around the table before anyone can question us further. “We’ll see you later.”
Susan watches us go, a wide smile on her face.
“I saw a cormorant down there myself the other day,” I hear Pat say as I close the door. “Impressive creatures.”
“The heron?” I ask.
“You put me on the spot,” he mutters as we head down the drive. “And everyone was looking at me.”
We hurry to the car, seat belts on and door closed, only then realizing we have no further plan.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
I have no idea. “Out of Clonard?”
“We can do that. The beach?”
“It’s a Saturday in June. It will be packed.”
