road trip to get away , if I remember right,” he said. “By yourself. Without the sort-of-live-in-kinda-boyfriend.”
I rested a hand over my eyes. “You are having way too good a time with this.”
He reached over and pulled my hand away, setting it back on my knee and sending every nerve ending on that side of my body into a frenzy. Jesus, it was nuts to still be affected that way.
“Fremont, I know it’s been a long time, and it was only one day, but it was one hell of a day.”
My breath left me, and I swallowed hard to get it back. “True.”
“I told you things I’ve never told anyone then or since,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
“That’s because sometimes it’s easier with outsiders,” I said, keeping a straight face. “They see the true colors.”
He threw a pillow at me. “I’m saying you can talk to me,” he said.
In the dim room, with the wind howling outside and no sharp contrast to anything, the air felt softer, muted. Like it was safe to talk in that room as long as the lights were out.
“Well, how about you?” I said, flipping it. “I seem to remember pre-law and your dad’s law firm? What’s the progression from that to diner owner?”
He laid his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. He really hadn’t changed much. His hair was shorter, with maybe a little dusting of something lighter here and there. The only thing really different in his face was stress. Worry. Life.
“Yeah, that’s been an eventful journey.”
“And you can talk to me,” I said, tilting my head a little.
“Quit using my words,” he said, making me bite down a grin. He sighed. “Law was my father’s dream, not mine,” he said, staring off at the opposite wall. “I ended up leaving his firm to work on a shrimp boat in the Gulf.”
My eyes popped open wide. “Holy shit, Montgomery, that’s—”
“Quite the leap, yeah, I know,” he finished, laughing to himself. “Not like I wanted to be a shrimp fisherman, either, believe me, but I just—needed to do something else. Figure out what I was supposed to do.”
“And—that was to run a diner?”
He shook his head and got up to walk to the kitchen. “No, that was to build things.” He opened the fridge quickly and pulled two waters out before closing it back to keep the cold in. “I got on a construction crew after the boat, building tract homes.” He laughed sarcastically as he sat back down and handed me a bottle. “Once my dad realized I enjoyed it, he decided I should go back to school for architecture.”
“Oh, wow.”
“I couldn’t just do that. It was always about the higher education with him. In order for me to succeed in his eyes, I needed a degree in something.”
“So I’m guessing you didn’t go,” I said, swigging down the cold water.
He did an eyebrow gesture that said no. “He’s still waiting.”
I laughed. “And the diner?”
The light in his eyes went out. I was enjoying the camaraderie so much, I wanted to put it back.
“That was my wife’s idea.” His face went completely void of expression. As he went somewhere inside himself and I played with my water bottle lid, I tried to figure out what to say.
“I heard about—um—that you lost your wife,” I said, wincing a little as his head jerked toward me. “Sorry.”
“What?” he asked, his tone curt. “How would you know that?”
His complete change of demeanor threw me. “I’m—sorry I mentioned it. Jarvis just told—”
“Jarvis,” he said, enunciating slowly, leaning forward. It was more like a question and I was left to wonder if I’d remembered the name wrong.
“The old man?” I thumbed toward the downstairs area. “Isn’t that his name?”
Jesse looked at me with an odd expression, something I couldn’t read and didn’t even know if I was supposed to try. “Jarvis told you about my wife?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
I raised my eyebrows, so bewildered. “This morning? At breakfast?” I flopped the pillow
I rested a hand over my eyes. “You are having way too good a time with this.”
He reached over and pulled my hand away, setting it back on my knee and sending every nerve ending on that side of my body into a frenzy. Jesus, it was nuts to still be affected that way.
“Fremont, I know it’s been a long time, and it was only one day, but it was one hell of a day.”
My breath left me, and I swallowed hard to get it back. “True.”
“I told you things I’ve never told anyone then or since,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
“That’s because sometimes it’s easier with outsiders,” I said, keeping a straight face. “They see the true colors.”
He threw a pillow at me. “I’m saying you can talk to me,” he said.
In the dim room, with the wind howling outside and no sharp contrast to anything, the air felt softer, muted. Like it was safe to talk in that room as long as the lights were out.
“Well, how about you?” I said, flipping it. “I seem to remember pre-law and your dad’s law firm? What’s the progression from that to diner owner?”
He laid his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. He really hadn’t changed much. His hair was shorter, with maybe a little dusting of something lighter here and there. The only thing really different in his face was stress. Worry. Life.
“Yeah, that’s been an eventful journey.”
“And you can talk to me,” I said, tilting my head a little.
“Quit using my words,” he said, making me bite down a grin. He sighed. “Law was my father’s dream, not mine,” he said, staring off at the opposite wall. “I ended up leaving his firm to work on a shrimp boat in the Gulf.”
My eyes popped open wide. “Holy shit, Montgomery, that’s—”
“Quite the leap, yeah, I know,” he finished, laughing to himself. “Not like I wanted to be a shrimp fisherman, either, believe me, but I just—needed to do something else. Figure out what I was supposed to do.”
“And—that was to run a diner?”
He shook his head and got up to walk to the kitchen. “No, that was to build things.” He opened the fridge quickly and pulled two waters out before closing it back to keep the cold in. “I got on a construction crew after the boat, building tract homes.” He laughed sarcastically as he sat back down and handed me a bottle. “Once my dad realized I enjoyed it, he decided I should go back to school for architecture.”
“Oh, wow.”
“I couldn’t just do that. It was always about the higher education with him. In order for me to succeed in his eyes, I needed a degree in something.”
“So I’m guessing you didn’t go,” I said, swigging down the cold water.
He did an eyebrow gesture that said no. “He’s still waiting.”
I laughed. “And the diner?”
The light in his eyes went out. I was enjoying the camaraderie so much, I wanted to put it back.
“That was my wife’s idea.” His face went completely void of expression. As he went somewhere inside himself and I played with my water bottle lid, I tried to figure out what to say.
“I heard about—um—that you lost your wife,” I said, wincing a little as his head jerked toward me. “Sorry.”
“What?” he asked, his tone curt. “How would you know that?”
His complete change of demeanor threw me. “I’m—sorry I mentioned it. Jarvis just told—”
“Jarvis,” he said, enunciating slowly, leaning forward. It was more like a question and I was left to wonder if I’d remembered the name wrong.
“The old man?” I thumbed toward the downstairs area. “Isn’t that his name?”
Jesse looked at me with an odd expression, something I couldn’t read and didn’t even know if I was supposed to try. “Jarvis told you about my wife?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
I raised my eyebrows, so bewildered. “This morning? At breakfast?” I flopped the pillow
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