“I’m not a big confronter. I mean, it was clear he didn’t love me anymore, and it’s not like you can talk someone into loving you again.”
“Did you want him to love you again?”
I have to consider this for a second. “I guess. If he loved me it would have meant I was a good wife, that I’d been adequate at keeping our world spinning. I liked the idea of that. But I didn’t really care too much about the affair. A year later, he was gone anyway, so no harm, no foul.”
Leo stops me on the sidewalk. “That’s just cold. It didn’t hurt a little?”
“Well, a little. But what was I supposed to do? I kind of had a lot on my plate.”
“Tell me this. If I went and had sex with stupid Vicky whoever, would you care?” A woman wheels a stroller around us, but Leo’s not budging. “Just tell me. I know how to make a scene.”
“Why are you asking?”
“I’m just gathering information.” Leo is vulnerable in this moment. His face is expectant and his shoulders are braced as if he’s expecting a blow.
“I’d care a lot,” I say. And he kisses me, right there on the sidewalk at two o’clock in the middle of town.
As we walk to the car, he’s laughing. “I knew it. You’re so into me.”
* * *
? ? ?
Mickey has taken to stopping by on his way home from work to have a beer with Leo. Apparently, Leo won him over at the barbecue. There’s something about the way Leo is so comfortable with his success that makes it easy for you to forget about it. By the time Mickey and Kate left, they were making fishing plans for August. August. So now Mickey’s a little in love with Leo too. They sit on the porch, and I cook and try not to eavesdrop until Kate calls and tells me to send him home. Leo wants to know about barbecuing ribs. Leo wants to know about solar panels. Mickey wants to know who in Hollywood Leo’s seen naked.
Mickey tells Leo about the bird sanctuary, and he wants to check it out. Though I suggest it would be easier to drive there, we decide to make it our next morning run. I’m grateful for a new route and for the birds, and also for the fact that Leo comes on my runs now because it’s another hour we’re not apart.
If you’re not going to drive, the only way into the bird sanctuary is through the forest on a rough path that runs parallel to a creek. The maple trees have sprouted fuzzy green flowers that dot the bright blue sky. Everything will look different in a month. I take this in quickly because I’m concentrating on the path ahead of me, strategically placing each foot to avoid the maze of aboveground roots at my feet. Parts of this run feel more like an obstacle course than a casual jog. We’re sweating and we’re laughing as each turn presents us with another fallen birch or muddy puddle to dodge. Leo calls over his shoulder that he kind of misses my Subaru, and I feel vindicated.
When the forest ends, I’m relieved. The path becomes wider, with seven-foot-tall wild pampas grass lining either side. The feathery tops bend with the breeze, directing us forward. I can no longer see the creek, but I can hear it as we run.
We disturb a family of turkeys, and when they run off, we see that we’ve arrived. We stop to catch our breath. We are in a meadow of yellow and lavender wildflowers with old oak and apple trees scattered among them. The creek has reappeared and winds its way through the meadow and beyond. We stay quiet to listen to the birds sing at one another across the trees. It’s so orderly, in the back-and-forth rhythm of a conversation. I have never witnessed anything so beautiful.
“Well, this is new,” I say.
“It is,” he says and takes my sweaty hand.
“I mean, it’s a nice change from my old loop.”
“I mean, you’re the first person I’ve ever been in love with,” he says. Just like that. It’s a Wednesday, I think, but I’m not even sure. In a meadow dotted with trees, covered in sweat with birds chirping around us, Leo Vance is in love with me. In that second, my life is like the tea house—I can see all the way through to the other side where there’s an entirely different reality.
CHAPTER 13
Everyone’s excited as we pull into the driveway after Thursday night’s rehearsal. We are a week away from opening night, and with the exception of Frankie Bowfox stepping on Emma Schwab’s dress and making her cry, it went off perfectly. Leo’s ordered pizza, so the big metal box waits for us on the porch.
“There’s a package here for you,” I say, handing it to Leo.