Dolly All the Time(89)

He locks his eyes on mine, and I see the softness inside him for the first time in forever. I see Stewart on his boat, in my bed. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible, every day.”

“I want to trust you again,” I say.

“I want that too,” he says.

“It’s going to take time,” I say. “And I don’t know how much.”

“I know. And I’ll wait.” He places his hands on the arms of the wicker chair. “I’ll wait right here if you’ll let me.” He smiles at me, takes my hand again. “I love you. And not just in your kitchen.”

I smile at this, that he remembers. I scoot closer, toward the edge of the daybed. He rests his forehead against mine and we sit like that, feeling what it is to be so close. I breathe him in, salt and soap. I reach out and run my thumbs over the stubble on his jaw. Stewart kisses me and I feel a slow release of tension from my shoulders. There’s a soft wave of relief, like cool aloe on sunburned skin. This kiss feels like a promise. It feels like he’s inviting me back into the place we used to share, but this time he’s handing me the keys.

“I love you, Dolly,” he says when I pull away. “Do you think you could love me again? If you did. I felt like you did.”

“Of course I did. You were there. You knew.”

“And now?”

I look over at the fire and at my curtains rustling with the breeze. This is my perfect space, and now Stewart’s here, loving me. “I can’t have you rolling in like this, handsome and openhearted, just for a little while. I don’t love you in a way that can be paused or dialed back. Trust me, I’ve tried. So if you’re here, yes, I still love you. But if you’re just stopping by, yes, I still love you, but no, I won’t do this again.”

A smile spreads across his face. It starts in his eyes and ends with that one dimple. I place my finger on it. I never thought I’d see it again.

“I’m not just stopping by. I want to be wherever you are. I want to pick you up from work tomorrow,” he says. “I want to look forward to it all day and then see you at four. Can I do that?”

“I want to watch The Simpsons with you,” I say.

“I want to take you to France.”

I laugh and kiss him again. “Okay. I want to learn to sail.”

“I want to teach you.” He rests his forehead on mine. “And I want to sail the big boat. With you and my whole family. Just once, to get it over with. Not very far, like to Nantucket. I feel like if you were there, I could do it.”

“I’m super helpful in a boating crisis,” I say.

We sit and look at each other, smiling. Stewart tucks my hair behind my ear. “If you let me love you, I’ll never leave you again. If I have to leave, I’ll take you with me.”





Chapter 40





I kiss Stewart goodbye at the sleeping porch door. The damp lawn is covered in acorns under the big white oak. I’m not letting him into my bed tonight, and he doesn’t even ask. “Can I really pick you up at four?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, and kiss him again, this purely delicious man. I run my fingers along the collar of his sweater.

“Can I take you out on the boat?”

“Yes, after dinner,” I say, and his face goes slack.

“What?”

“I have to apologize. To them. Your dad must hate me.”

“This isn’t really about my dad,” I say, and smooth the front of his hair where it’s sticking up.

“I know. But Gus. What day is it? I’ll come by in the morning. When are they all up?”

“It’s Saturday. Ten is a safe bet.”

In the morning, I make the four lemon pies in our little oven. I could go into the fish house to do it in the big oven, but today I want to be here. Stewart’s coming to face the music.

He knocks when we’re all seated around the table, eating soft-boiled eggs and scones. I let him in. He’s in a polo shirt and shorts, hair wet from a shower, with a loose bouquet of peonies in his hand. All eyes go to me and then back to Stewart.

“Stewart,” Christopher says. “Where were you?”

He raises a hand. “Hey. I’ve been in Boston mostly. How have you been?”

Christopher looks at me like I might have the answer and then turns back to Stewart. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

“What are you doing here?” Gus is totally thrown.

Stewart says, “I came to see your mom.”

Their eyes return to me and I smile at them. This could not be any more awkward.

Clutching his bouquet with both hands, Stewart addresses the table. “I came to see her last night to apologize. Because I love her. And I’m here to see you because I wanted to make sure it’s okay.”

“Knew it,” says Christopher.

I’m having a hard time reading Gus; he isn’t smiling but he isn’t angry either.

“Gus, I consider us friends, and I hope you do too. And you don’t secretly date your friend’s mom, obviously. So I wanted to ask.”

Gus nods at Stewart and then looks to me. He’s asking if this is okay. He’s apologizing for being less than forthcoming about his friendship with Stewart. He’s reading my face and he likes what he sees there.