first thing she saw, a pair of jeans and Gabe’s polo shirt, she whipped the towel from her head and grabbed her brush. Yanking the brush through her wet hair as she descended, Jenny found Steve in the kitchen.
Unshaven and tousle-haired, Steve rested his jean-clad hips against the kitchen counter. A couple of buttons peeked halfway through the buttonholes of his wrinkled navy-checked shirt, as if hastily done up. His eyes locked on hers, wary, as he ignored Ritz’s pawing his topsiders. Other than the uncertainty stamped on his face, he looked refreshed and disgustingly unrepentant.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Jenny called to Ritz, let her outside, and then returned to the kitchen. Not having the faintest idea what she should say or wanted to say to him, she put the round table between them, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at him expectantly.
“Last night—” he frowned, then extended his hand to her before allowing it to fall, slapping his thigh—“was a little weird. I’m sorry. I fell asleep. I meant to move to the chair, but I fell asleep.”¬
“No—it’s all right.” She nodded, wanting this awkwardness to be over. “It’s not as if anything happened.”
“Gabe’s my best friend,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to think I’d take advan—”
“No. I know.” She shoved an impatient hand through her hair. “I—uh—look. Let’s not make a big deal out of it. Let’s just forget it.”
His blue gaze sharpened on her. “Forget it?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. We’re good.”
“O-kay.” He nodded in slow motion. “I really value our friendship and I’d hate like hell to think things would be weird between us because of last night.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waved a hand, feigning nonchalance. “Last night-psh. Nothing happened. We’re fine. We’re good.”
Steve watched her carefully, as if expecting her to break down. Well, she wouldn’t. The old Jenny might have, but that was before her husband died. She made a mistake, but she’d go on and it’d be okay. It had to be.
“Riiight,” he said slowly, as if trying to piece everything together. “So…do you need help with anything?”
“No. I was just on my way out,” she lied, ignoring her wet hair and bare feet. “I’m off to break the news to my folks.” She went into the laundry room and retrieved a clean pair of socks from the dryer.
“Want me to come with you?”
“No, thanks.”
“Want me to get your mail from my house or take the garbage out?”
“It’s Tuesday?” She took in his casual attire. “How come you’re not at work?”
He stared at her so long, that she looked away and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Was that a dumb question?
“I thought you might need help,” he finally said.
“That’s sweet, but I’m fine. Really. I’ve had a bit longer than the rest of you to accept his…being gone.” She inwardly cringed. She still couldn’t say Gabe’s name and the word “death” in the same sentence. “I’ll be okay.”
The house seemed to close in on Jenny, causing a vacuum, making it hard for her to breathe. Whether it was grief or guilt, she couldn’t tell—all she knew was she had to get out. Jenny thrust her feet into her socks, laced her shoes, picked up her purse and whistled for Ritz.
"Ritz, come on.”
"She's already out."
“Oh, right. I’ve really got to go.” Jenny shoved her arms in the coat sleeves and passed him, careful not to let their bodies touch.
She’d almost reached the shelter of her car when Steve called her name. Jenny was tempted to ignore him, but she pivoted on her heel. “What?”
He closed the door and approached. Her car keys jingled loudly as he passed them to her on his way out. “You’ll need these.”
Jenny watched Steve roll her garbage cans out of the garage to the driveway where the garbage men could empty them. Shoulders hunched as if weighted down, he plodded through the passage between
Unshaven and tousle-haired, Steve rested his jean-clad hips against the kitchen counter. A couple of buttons peeked halfway through the buttonholes of his wrinkled navy-checked shirt, as if hastily done up. His eyes locked on hers, wary, as he ignored Ritz’s pawing his topsiders. Other than the uncertainty stamped on his face, he looked refreshed and disgustingly unrepentant.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Jenny called to Ritz, let her outside, and then returned to the kitchen. Not having the faintest idea what she should say or wanted to say to him, she put the round table between them, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at him expectantly.
“Last night—” he frowned, then extended his hand to her before allowing it to fall, slapping his thigh—“was a little weird. I’m sorry. I fell asleep. I meant to move to the chair, but I fell asleep.”¬
“No—it’s all right.” She nodded, wanting this awkwardness to be over. “It’s not as if anything happened.”
“Gabe’s my best friend,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to think I’d take advan—”
“No. I know.” She shoved an impatient hand through her hair. “I—uh—look. Let’s not make a big deal out of it. Let’s just forget it.”
His blue gaze sharpened on her. “Forget it?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. We’re good.”
“O-kay.” He nodded in slow motion. “I really value our friendship and I’d hate like hell to think things would be weird between us because of last night.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waved a hand, feigning nonchalance. “Last night-psh. Nothing happened. We’re fine. We’re good.”
Steve watched her carefully, as if expecting her to break down. Well, she wouldn’t. The old Jenny might have, but that was before her husband died. She made a mistake, but she’d go on and it’d be okay. It had to be.
“Riiight,” he said slowly, as if trying to piece everything together. “So…do you need help with anything?”
“No. I was just on my way out,” she lied, ignoring her wet hair and bare feet. “I’m off to break the news to my folks.” She went into the laundry room and retrieved a clean pair of socks from the dryer.
“Want me to come with you?”
“No, thanks.”
“Want me to get your mail from my house or take the garbage out?”
“It’s Tuesday?” She took in his casual attire. “How come you’re not at work?”
He stared at her so long, that she looked away and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Was that a dumb question?
“I thought you might need help,” he finally said.
“That’s sweet, but I’m fine. Really. I’ve had a bit longer than the rest of you to accept his…being gone.” She inwardly cringed. She still couldn’t say Gabe’s name and the word “death” in the same sentence. “I’ll be okay.”
The house seemed to close in on Jenny, causing a vacuum, making it hard for her to breathe. Whether it was grief or guilt, she couldn’t tell—all she knew was she had to get out. Jenny thrust her feet into her socks, laced her shoes, picked up her purse and whistled for Ritz.
"Ritz, come on.”
"She's already out."
“Oh, right. I’ve really got to go.” Jenny shoved her arms in the coat sleeves and passed him, careful not to let their bodies touch.
She’d almost reached the shelter of her car when Steve called her name. Jenny was tempted to ignore him, but she pivoted on her heel. “What?”
He closed the door and approached. Her car keys jingled loudly as he passed them to her on his way out. “You’ll need these.”
Jenny watched Steve roll her garbage cans out of the garage to the driveway where the garbage men could empty them. Shoulders hunched as if weighted down, he plodded through the passage between
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