“I, uh…” I glance over at Jack, whose attention is on the fire. “I didn’t need it anymore, so I gave it back.”
“But you’re cold.”
I’m not as cold as I was before we got the fire going. The heat radiating off of it warms my fingers and my feet, although my back still feels cold and I still have goosebumps all over my arms. “I’m okay.”
Noah looks at me for a moment and then pulls off his hoodie sweatshirt. “Here, take mine.”
“But then you won’t have a sweatshirt!”
“I never get cold.” He pats his gut. “I’ve got plenty of padding.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about. I have at least as much padding as Noah does, probably more. But I accept his sweatshirt and I drape it around me. Even though he hasn’t used any in at least a day, it smells like his aftershave.
“Thanks,” I say.
His hazel eyes crinkle. “No problem. But you still look cold.”
“Well,” I say softly, “maybe you can warm me up.”
“I could try…”
He holds out his right arm and I cuddle up against him. For the first time since we got out here, I feel warm and safe in his embrace. I can’t remember the last time Noah held me like this. At least some of the tension of the day drains out of me.
“Do you remember when Aiden was six months old and the power went out?” he asks softly.
I allow myself a smile. “Yeah. It was so cold in the house. The three of us all snuggled under a blanket, trying to keep warm together.”
Noah squeezes me tighter. I miss the kids desperately, but until now, I hadn’t realized how much I missed my husband. The way he used to be. The way we used to be.
“Goddamn it, Jack.” Warner’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Will you stop poking the fire?”
“Do you want the fire to go out?” Jack turns to stare at Warner. “Will you get it going again if it does?”
Warner rolls his eyes. “Quit being a drama queen.”
Jack is quiet for a moment as he pokes the fire. “We should’ve kept looking for Michelle.”
Warner groans. “Not this again…”
“None of you cared enough about her to keep looking.” In the light of the fire, Jack’s cheeks turn pink. “You all just left her. None of you cared.”
“That’s not true,” Noah says quietly.
Jack snorts. “Please. You all hated Michelle.”
I feel my face burn. I did hate Michelle. I remember the first time I met her, when Jack brought her out for dinner with me and Noah. Most of Jack’s girlfriends before her were these sweet, fun, bubbly girls, so Michelle came as a shock. She was a little older, for one thing. And she was so serious and composed—her jet black hair was pulled into an elaborate French twist and she wore a tasteful white blouse and pencil skirt. The other thing that surprised me about Michelle was she didn’t hang on Jack’s every word like the others. In fact, it was very much the opposite. Every time she opened her mouth, he stared at her like she was a celebrity.
Near the end of the meal, Michelle excused herself to go to the bathroom, leaving us alone with Jack. I had to go to the bathroom too, but I wasn’t excited about being alone with Michelle. In that sense, not much changed over the years.
Isn’t she great? Jack asked eagerly, while she was gone.
Noah and I exchanged a meaningful look. Great, he echoed.
Of course, we could never tell Jack we thought Michelle was wrong for him. But we couldn’t wait for them to be done.
But they never were done. All of a sudden, they were getting married, even though Jack always swore he didn’t want to get married until he was at least forty. It wasn’t all bad though. Thanks to Michelle’s lucrative practice, they could afford a lifestyle that Jack never could have paid for on his own.
“I didn’t hate Michelle,” I lie.
“Me either,” Noah says. I suppose it’s less of a lie in his case. He never really had a reason to hate her.
Warner shrugs. “I didn’t even know her.”
“Exactly!” Jack’s hand balls into a fist. “None of you knew her. You didn’t care about her. If you knew her, you never would’ve left her.”
“Don’t look at me,” I say. “I didn’t even want to leave Lindsay, remember?”
“Lindsay was dead!” Jack snaps. “There was nothing we could do! This was completely different!”