Текст книги "Dirty Red"

Автор книги: Tarryn Fisher

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter Sixteen

Past

He was with her. He had to be. I went to his condo, and I called his parents. No one had seen or heard from him in a few days. I left half a dozen voicemails, but he never called back. My life was starting to feel like a runaway train. I was heading toward something bad at a breakneck pace. Caleb was pulling away from me. My fingers, which used to be twined with his, were now gripping air. I needed to grab on to something, take back control. I considered asking my mother for help, but after she’d told me to follow Caleb to that bitch’s apartment, I’d been too ashamed to tell her anything else about the situation.

Courtney!

I called my sister and told her everything.

“Geez, Leah. What are you going to do?” Courtney was in her first year as a teacher. She had taken a job, teaching math to inner city kids at a high school.

“Seriously, you have to find him and talk to him. Who is this girl, anyway? She obviously knows about you and doesn’t care. What a heartless bitch.”

“I don’t know that he’d listen, Courtney. He’s not himself.”

I heard voices in the background.

“I have to go,” she said. “I’m doing after school tutoring. This is the love of your life. You have to fight for him.”

“Okay,” I said. “How?”

She was quiet for a few seconds. “Figure out who this girl is. If she’s just a fling, let it go, he’ll come back to you. If it’s more, you have to put a stop to it. Hear me?”

“I hear you.”

She hung up. I felt rejuvenated. I stopped for a Jamba Juice and drove straight to the apartment complex I’d followed Caleb to a week earlier. His car wasn’t there. I knocked on the door and heard a dog barking. I knocked again, louder. If that damn animal kept making that racket, someone was going to notice. At my feet, there was a Welcome mat and a small potted plant to the left of it. It did little to brighten the dull grey corridor. Looking around, I squatted next to the plant, lifting it off the ground. Nothing.

Hmmmmm.

I stuck my finger in the soil and dug around until ... I came up with a small Ziploc baggie. I dusted away the dirt with my finger and leaned in for a closer look. A key. I snorted. Standing up, I put the key in the lock, and the door swung open. My ankles were immediately under attack. I managed to dodge my way around the ugly creature and close the door to the apartment, locking it outside. I pressed my ear against the door. I could hear it whining on the other side and then the faint click of nails on concrete as it trotted away. Good.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the apartment. It was nice. Decent. She’d put work into making it homey. I wandered over to the living room. It smelled so strongly of cinnamon, I wanted to find the source. I followed the smell to one of those plug in wall things and nudged it with the tip of my shoe. What type of woman used those? I had never even thought to buy one.

Fuck it. Enough screwing around.

I started in her bedroom. That’s where women had been hiding their secrets since the beginning of … well, secrets. I pulled out her dresser drawers one by one, running my hands along the back of her clothes. When I reached her underwear drawer, I grimaced. Please, God, do not let Caleb have seen her underwear. She wears lace – black and white and pink. No patterns. I closed the drawer empty-handed and looked at her closet. So far, she’s boring. Caleb doesn’t do boring. Well, the Caleb I used to know didn’t do boring. I shook my head. I had no idea who this new Caleb was. I wanted the old one back.

I clicked on the light in the closet. It was creepily organized. A shoebox rested on a shelf above her clothes. I pulled it down and slid off the lid.

I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Staring up at me was a picture of a much younger Caleb. He had his arm around a girl with raven black hair. I recognized her from the day I followed him to her apartment. What did this mean? They knew each other? Had Caleb reached out to her after he got amnesia? Was he trying to connect with his past? I flipped through the pictures. They were more than just friends. My God. I stopped on a picture of them kissing and flung the box away from me.

What was happening? Did he know who she was or —

No, it had to be her. She somehow found out he had lost his memory, and she showed up to mess with his head. Oh my God. Caleb had no idea.

I stopped rocking and scrambled for the box. Inside are handwritten letters in Caleb’s slanted print. My eyes burned as I read through them. His words … to this girl I knew nothing about. Except this wasn’t just any girl. This was Cherry Garcia. I was almost sure of it.

I had to find him, tell him what she was doing. But first things first.

I gathered what I needed into a pile and stuffed it into my pocket. Then I went to look for scissors.

Chapter Seventeen

 Present

No one comes. By noon I realize that I have destroyed my marriage and it is Sam’s day off. I break out the Scotch. I don’t even like Scotch, but for some reason it makes me feel bonded to Caleb.

The little brat is finally sleeping. I don’t think twice about taking two fingers of Caleb’s best. She’s so high-strung a little single malt would do her good. I catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror, as I trudge up the stairs toward the shower. I look like one of those chubby, lank haired mothers who occupy park benches, all the hope drained from their eyes. Is that what I am destined to become? A single mother, wearing ugly jeans and doling out those disgusting goldfish cracker-things at snack time?

No – I square my shoulders. If I am going to do this, I will not go to the damn park. I will go to France, and I will feed her caviar and pâté. I can do better than a stereotype. I can be a Chanel mother.

By the time I climb out of the shower, I feel like a new woman. No wonder Caleb drinks that expensive stuff. I’m practically walking on air. When the baby wakes up, I feed her from the stock of milk I pumped earlier. She already seems fussy, like the bottle is an inconvenience instead of a meal. She screams and thrashes her head around until her skin flushes as red as the troll fluff that’s sprouting on top of her head.

I wiggle it in her mouth, until finally she latches on, grunting with her eyes closed.

“Lost that battle, didn’t you?” I say, resting my head back in the rocker and closing my eyes. “If you think I’m going to be doing that all the time, you’re wrong. Spoiled little redheaded brat.”

I wake up in the rocker. The baby is asleep on my shoulder. I can feel her heat seeping through my clothes, and hear her little breaths in my ear. I lower her in her crib as gently as I can and check my phone.

Nothing from Caleb, but two calls from Sam. I am about to call my good for nothing manny when he sends me a text.

Sam: Stomach flu, need a few days off.

Before I know what I’m doing my phone is spiraling out of my hand and toward my beautiful fucking marble staircase. I close my eyes as I hear it smash into a dozen pieces. My whole life is falling apart.

The baby starts to cry, I start to cry. I smash a few more priceless antiques and pull myself together. I have a gosh-darn baby to take care of. When I march back into her room, my sobbing has subsided to a whimper and I already have my boob out.

Sam finds me in my usual spot on the floor next to her crib. He nudges me in the ribs with his foot, and I shove his leg away.

“Did you stop bathing?”

When I don’t respond, he pulls me to my feet, casting a quick glance into the crib before ushering me out.

“I didn’t kill her,” I sputter, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He ignores me, pushing me toward my bedroom.

“Just because you’re a mother doesn’t mean you can’t take care of yourself.”

I shoot him a nasty look. Obviously, he has no idea what it is to take care of a baby. He shoves me into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

“Caleb called to say he won’t be coming home,” he says without looking at me. I slap his hands away. “What else did he say?”

Sam won’t answer me. This is bad. This is really bad. Caleb doesn’t air his dirty laundry. If he’s telling the damn manny something, it must be because he’s made up his mind. I climb into the water and let it roll across my face.

God – why didn’t I think of these nasty consequences before I flung that zobmondo at him?  Did I really think I’d be hurting only Caleb? I pretty much screwed myself from here to Mars, and now that poor, little brat isn’t going to have a father.

Unless.

I shook my head. How could I even think that?

Chapter Eighteen

Past

Caleb came back to me. I knew he would. Not because we had something irreplaceable, but because I was true blue. I fought for what I wanted, and I drove his past out of town. She wouldn’t come back. I was fairly certain of this. She was too much of a coward. I knew on some level, when I found those letters and pictures, that she had deep feelings for him. A woman didn’t keep a box of mementos unless the flame was still burning strong. I used that to my advantage. I played on her guilt, and thank God, she responded. If she had fought harder, something told me I would have lost.

He retreated into himself after she left. I had to watch his heart break … silently. It was awful. I was so jealous I could barely breathe. He didn’t tell me what happened between them, and why would he? He was confused. I had no choice but to wait. It ground at me; the fact that he had obviously cared very much for her before the amnesia, so much so that the feelings were all there, even though his memory was not. It would have made for an interesting psychological study had it not been so incredibly fucked up. He stared off into space a lot after I put an end to their little romance. I could have stood right in front of him during those days, and he wouldn’t have seen me. I wondered what he would say when his memory came back. Would he tell me that she was a girl from his past, or would he pretend it never happened?

And then his memory did come back. It happened suddenly, on a Tuesday in April. I was at work when he called to tell me.

“Oh my God,” I said, standing up. I was having lunch with a colleague in the break room, but I wanted to go to him right away.

“How do you feel?” I asked, cautiously. I stepped into the hall for privacy. Would he mention Olivia? Was he angry?

“I’m fine,” he paused. “Relieved that it’s over.”

“We should celebrate. As soon as I’m done with work, I can meet you.”

He hesitated. “Sure, Leah. There's a lot I want to talk to you about.”

My heart fluttered. What did that mean? Now that he remembered who I was, maybe he wanted to move forward with me. I pushed the thought away. No use getting my hopes up for nothing.

“Okay, I’ll see you after work. And Caleb…” I held my breath. “I love you.”

There was a brief pause, during which my heart went to battle with my stomach for who felt sicker.

“I love you too, Leah.” He ended the call. I slouched against the wall.

He remembered that he loved me. I’d been waiting to hear those words for months. I started crying, and then I called Katine and Courtney. Katine was ecstatic, Courtney, not so much.

“So he just remembered everything … out of the blue?” my sister said after I told her.

“Yes, that’s how it works.”

“I guess I’m just finding it hard to believe that you can forget your girlfriend for months and then, bam! All of a sudden, it all comes back.”

“Can you just be happy for me?” I snapped. “We can finally move forward in our relationship.”

“What if he doesn’t want to move forward,” she said. My heart plummeted. He had said he wanted to talk to me. Weren’t those infamous breakup words?

“Courtney,” I hissed, “you’re really pissing me off.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you. The guy was having a relationship with another woman for goodness sake. Wake up, Leah. He’s not as perfect as you think he is.”

I hung up on her. Courtney was bitter. She’d recently broken up with her boyfriend and was taking it out on Caleb. I wasn’t going to let anything dampen my spirits. He was back, and he was mine.

I walked into his condo without knocking. Now that he remembered who I was, there was no need for pretenses. He was standing in the kitchen, drinking a beer, his hair still wet from his shower.

I dropped my purse and ran to him. He just managed to set his bottle on the counter when I launched myself at him. He caught me, laughing.

“Hi, Red.”

“Hi, Caleb.”

We looked at each other for a good minute before he set me down.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine … great. I just … there is so much…”

I put my hand over his mouth. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad you’re back.”

Before he could argue, I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed him. He was surprised at first. I felt his hands on my arms, trying to pull me away. I wrapped my hands around his neck. I was being territorial. God knows what he had been doing with that woman. I needed to reclaim him, have him kiss me like he did before the accident. He didn’t. When I backed away, he wouldn’t look at me.

“Caleb, what’s wrong? You remember everything, right?”

“Yes.”

“I feel like you’re still treating me like you don’t know who I am.”

He walked away, went to stand at the window with his back to me. I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing my eyes shut. Why did I suddenly feel so cold?

“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

He kept his body stiff, but turned his head to look at me. “Were we still together? The way I remember it, you broke up with me the morning of the accident.”

I swallowed. That was true.

“The accident put things into perspective for me,” I said, carefully. “I almost lost you.”

“The accident put things into perspective for me too, Leah. It changed everything – what I wanted … what I thought I could have…”

I shook my head. I didn’t understand what he was saying. Was he referring to her?

I squeezed in between him and the window so he was forced to look at me. “Caleb, before the accident you wanted me. Do you still want me?”

The longest two minutes of my life came next. I started to walk away. He grabbed my arm.

I was already crying. I didn’t want him to see.

“Leah, look at me.”

I did.

“I’ve been really selfish-“

“I don’t care,” I rushed, “you were confused.”

“I knew what I was doing.”

I stared at him. “What do you mean?”

He swore and ran his hand through his hair.

There was a knock at the door.

“Damnit … damnit!” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, before stalking off to answer it.

It was Luca and Steve. I grabbed my purse and ran to the bathroom to fix my face before they could see me. If my mother had taught me anything in life, it was not to get caught with your emotions out.

“Leah!” she exclaimed when I walked out of the bathroom. She moved like a cat toward me. I resisted the urge to back up. The difference between Luca and my mother was a tremendous amount of sincerity and maternal love. This woman loved her son in ways I was completely unfamiliar with. It was unconditional. I envied him that. Something about her need to always embrace me, made me uncomfortable. I felt sized up every time she did it, like she was testing my bones to see if they were worthy of her son. I let her, looking at Caleb over her shoulder. He watched us with a strange expression on his face.

When she pulled away, she kept a hold on my upper arms and looked me in the eyes.

“Caleb, this girl…” She looked over her shoulder at him, then back at me with tears in her eyes. “This girl is a rarity.”

My surprise must have been evident on my face. She hugged me again. “Thank you, Leah. You have been so loyal to my son. A mother couldn’t ask for anything better.”

I wasn’t the only one in shock. Caleb’s face ranged between full-on astonishment and confusion.

When I caught his eye, he shrugged and smiled.

They stayed for the majority of the night, talking and drinking champagne – which they’d brought to celebrate. I left when they did. At the door, Caleb caught me by the wrist before I could walk away.

“Leah,” his voice was husky. “My mother was right. No matter what, you stuck with me. Even when...”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about that.” Her.

He narrowed his eyes. I felt like he was seeing me for the first time in months.

“You didn’t have to. It’s a shame it took my mother to point that out to me.”

“What are you saying, Caleb?”

“I’ve taken you for granted. Your loyalty. Your trust. I’m sorry.”

He pulled me toward him and wrapped me in a hug. I didn’t know what his words meant for us, but I was sure as hell going to stick around to see.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

I nodded, swiping at my tears with my fingertips.

Please, God, don’t let him hurt me.

Chapter Nineteen

Present

Sam is on my side – or at least I think he is. He doesn’t judge me. I like that. He knows the basics of what happened between Caleb and me. So far, he hasn’t asked any probing questions. I almost want him to.

I feel like we’re a team. He cleans the house, keeps me fed, does the laundry and tells me when to feed the baby.

I feed the baby.

Sometimes I watch when he gives her a bath and hand him the towel.

Motherhood isn’t nearly as hard as I thought. Except when it is.

Caleb doesn’t call.

Caleb doesn’t call.

“What’s with all the tattoos?” I ask him one day. He has his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and he’s gently rinsing the soap from the baby’s hair. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. I trace the pictures with my finger, something I’ve never done before … to anyone. It’s a mess of artwork: a pirate ship, a lotus flower, and an incredibly tacky spider web. When I reach his elbow, he raises his eyebrows. “Would you like me to take my shirt off so you can continue?”

“There’s more?”

He smirks and lifts the baby out of the bath. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were attracted to me.”

I cackle. Really. It’s kind of embarrassing.

“You’re gay, Sam. And no offense, but I’m not really into the Kurt Cobain, tattooed look.”

Sam carries the baby into the nursery and sets her on the changing table. “I hope you’re at least into the Kurt Cobain sound, then.”

I swallow. God. I feel dizzy all of a sudden.

I’m shaking my head before words can make it past my lips. “I listened when I was younger.”

He looks at me quizzically.

“I’m gonna go get something to drink…” I slip out of the room before he can say anything else, but instead of going to the kitchen, I head for my bedroom. I shut the door as quietly as possible and crawl onto my bed.

Breathe, Leah.

I am trying to think of happy things, things my therapist gave me to focus on, but all I can hear are the words to a Nirvana song, echoing so loudly in my head I want to scream.

I scream into my pillow. I hate that. I’m a goddamn mess and there is nothing I can do about it. When my heart stops racing, I go downstairs and get a drink of water.

I am channel surfing a few hours later when I hear Olivia’s name. I flick past the channel and have to backtrack. Since Caleb’s been gone, I am desperate for any news on her. I know he’s watching. I pluck at my eyelashes and watch as Nancy Grace gives me an update on what’s happening in Dobson’s trial preparation. She’s on a tirade. I snicker. When is she not on a tirade? She moves on from Dobson and it takes me a few minutes to figure out that her sharp southern accent is directed at Olivia. I turn up the volume and lean forward. Yes! Olivia bashing! This is exactly what I need to feel better about myself.

I snuggle down in my seat to watch, a full glass of Scotch sweating in my hand. One corner of the screen is reeling footage of Dobson’s victims. They range in age and appearance, but they all have the same haunted look in their eyes. When a video clip of the rapist comes on the screen, I scrunch my nose. He’s in an orange jumpsuit, handcuffed and shackled. Officers wearing plain clothes surround him as he walks the short distance from the vehicle to the courthouse. He gives me the heebie-jeebies. He’s huge – linebacker size. The cop next to him looks puny. How this buffoon managed to get girls to come within five feet of him astounds me.

Suddenly, the screen flashes to Olivia. I want to change the channel, but as usual, I can’t pull my eyes from her. Nancy is waving her bejeweled hand in the air. Her voice is rising in crescendo and she’s told three people on her panel that they’re idiots for defending Olivia’s case. I reach over for a handful of popcorn, not taking my eyes from the screen. Nancy is right. I feel a sudden fondness for her. She obviously knows how to read people. Then I hear my name. I spit out my popcorn and lean forward.

She won a case a year ago, defending an heiress on clinical fraud charges. Nancy calls to someone on her panel. Did she win that case, Dave?

Dave gives a brief summary of my case and affirms that yes, indeed, Olivia did win the case.

Nancy is disgusted.

The evidence against that girl was overwhelming, she says, stabbing the desk with her finger.

I change the channel.

But, the following night, I turn it on again and watch all fifty-two minutes of blond fury. By night three, I’ve called into the show as a Ms. Lucy Knight from Missouri, and expressed my disgust with Olivia too. I make sure to tell her that I appreciate what she does for women, that’s she’s a goddamn hero. Nancy tearfully thanks me for being a fan.

By the end of her show, I am usually drunk. Sometimes Sam stays to watch it with me.

“She’s really pretty,” he says about Olivia. I spit an ice cube at him and he laughs. The baby is almost sleeping through the night now. I still sleep in her room, just in case she wakes up. Sam thinks I’m finally bonding with her, but I only do it so I don’t have to walk far in the middle of the night. Caleb is supposed to be back from his trip late the following day. He sent me a text saying he’d pick up Estella as soon as he got back. I plan a trip to the spa in the morning. If everything goes my way, he won’t be going anywhere.

“So, they were together in college?”

I look over to where Sam is sipping on his soda. “What the hell?”

“What?” He shrugs. “I feel like I’m watching a soap opera without all of the back-story.”

I sniff. “Yes, they were together for a few years in college. But, it wasn’t that serious. They never even slept together.”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Caleb stuck around for a girl who wasn’t having sex with him?” He lets out a low whistle.

“What does that mean?” I curl my feet under my body and try not to look too interested. The lack of sex between Caleb and Olivia always confused me. I had wanted to ask questions on the rare occasion it came up, but never wanted to seem like the jealous girlfriend. Besides, Caleb protected his past like it was the goddamn crown jewels.

Sam looks thoughtful as he chews on a mouthful of beef jerky. He eats so much of the stuff I’ve come to associate the smell with him.

“Seems like a long time to ask a college-aged guy to wait. The only way I see someone doing that is if they are crazy in love … addiction love.”

“What do you mean addiction love?” Caleb has the most non-addictive personality I’ve ever seen. In fact, it bothers me. One year he will be a full-fledged skier and the next year when I book a trip to the lodge, he’ll tell me he’s not interested anymore. It happened countless times throughout our relationship – with restaurants, clothes … he even traded his car in every year. It almost always started with him loving something intensely and then gradually becoming bored with it.

“I don’t know,” Sam says. “I guess it sounds like he was willing to do anything for her … even if it meant going against what he was used to.”

“I hate you.”

He slaps my leg playfully and stands up. “Just trying to clear your head a little, Mommy monster. Seems like he’s your addiction and it’s not a healthy one.”

I glare after him as he heads for the door. He’s such a pompous ass.

“See you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder. “When Mr. Perfect returns…”

But, the next day Sam calls to say he’s having car problems. I cancel the spa. I haven’t spent an entire day alone with the baby since Sam’s run with the flu. I eat a mini bag of frozen corn before going up to get her. For most of the day, I repeat everything I see Sam do. We have tummy time in the living room. I wipe her face after she’s done eating. I even splurge and take her for a mini walk in the stroller I have never used.

When I discover I'm out of diapers, I call Sam in a panic. He doesn’t answer, because no one is ever around when you really damn well need them! How am I supposed to take a baby to the store with me? There has to be some kind of service that runs errands for new mothers. After debating for more than an hour, I pack the baby in the car and head to the nearest grocery store. It takes me ten minutes to figure out how to load her car seat onto the cart. I swear under my breath, until a more seasoned mother comes over to help me. I thank her without meeting her eyes and steer my cart into the store just in time to miss the rain. The minute the cold air conditioning blows on the baby, she starts wailing. I push the cart haphazardly to the kid aisle and toss in five packages of diapers. Better safe than sorry.

By the time I’ve raced back to the register, people are looking at me like I’m a bad mother. I load everything onto the conveyor and lift her out of the car seat. Holding her against my chest, I pat her back awkwardly. I am fumbling with my wallet and trying to bounce her when the cashier – a bubble popping juvenile delinquent – asks me, “Will that be all?” I look at the bags of diapers that are now bagged in my cart and then at the empty belt. He is staring at me with his watery marijuana eyes, waiting for my answer.

“Um no, I’d like all of this invisible shit too.” I wave a hand at the conveyer and he is actually dumb enough to look.

“God,” I say, viciously swiping my credit card. “Lay off the pot.”

The baby chooses that exact moment to have a bowl movement. Before I’ve pocketed my credit card, the contents of her diaper have leaked onto my hands and shirt. I look around in horror and bolt from the store.

Without the diapers.

I send Sam to go back for them later when he finally calls me back. When he shows up at the front door, I still haven’t changed my crapped on shirt, and in addition to my daughter’s brown artwork, both of my breasts are leaking. He shakes his head.

“You look worse every time I see you.”

I burst into tears. Sam sets the diapers on the counter and hugs me. “Go shower while she’s sleeping. I’ll make us something to eat.”

I nod and head upstairs. When I come back down, he’s made spaghetti.

“Sit.” He points to a barstool. I obey, pulling in the plate he slides toward me.

“You’re losing it,” he says. He wraps spaghetti around his fork without looking at me.

I use a knife to cut mine into little pieces so that they fit onto my fork.

“How do I get him to come home?”

“Get a new personality and learn to shut the fuck up.”

I give him a dirty look as I dab at my mouth.

“Are you attracted to me?”

There is a long pause.

“I’m gay, Leah.”

“What? I never really thought you were.”

“You’ve been saying it all along!”

“But, you have a daughter … what’s her name, again?”

He laughs. “Kenley. And, I guess I only figured it out later in life.”

I drop my head in my hands. This is an all-time new low for me, seducing a gay man. I take a deep breath and look up.

“Caleb’s going to leave me again. I know it.”

For a second Sam looks taken aback, and then he scoots over on the couch and puts an arm around my shoulders.

“Probably,” he says. My head snaps around to look at him. Weren’t gay men supposed to be sensitive? The minute he announced he was gay, I was planning on using him to replace Katine. “Probably. I can’t believe he’s stayed with you for this long.” He smiles at my expression.

“Did you really just say that?”

He nods. “Maybe the guy loves a good bitch – but you’re treading a thin line between attractively bitchy and psycho. You messed with his daughter. He’s probably going to leave you and take his kid.”

“No way. I won’t let that happen.”

“What? —The husband or the baby?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s obvious what I mean.

“He won’t believe it – if I start acting all supermom. He sees through shit like that.”

Sam raises an eyebrow.

“He won’t leave me. He thinks I’ll fall apart if he does.”

“Is that how you want to keep him? By manipulating his emotions?”

I shrug. “I try not to think about it, honestly.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of apparent. Why not just let him go? You could find someone else.”

I have the urge to slap him across the face. I light up a Slim instead.

“I won’t ever let him go. I love him too much.”

Sam smirks at me and plucks it from my fingers, stubbing it out on my granite. “Never?”

“Never,” I say. “Never ever.”

Sam points a finger at me. “That’s not love.”

I roll my eyes at him. “What do you know? You’re gay.”