“Don’t change the subject,” James says through a mouth half full of tacos. “What’s the story with you and Lindy? The real story.”
I’m going to hold out. I’m not going to confess anything to James, the one brother sure to think all of this is a terrible idea. But I need someone to talk to. I need an outside perspective on what I’m dealing with, because it’s too murky where I stand.
I can feel the truth bubbling up out of me. “She kissed me last night.”
“I think the whole town is aware.” James rolls his eyes. “Also, I should hope so.”
I set down my utensils, giving my waffle a silent apology for making it wait. “Here’s the thing about my marriage.”
And, lowering my voice so this doesn’t end up on Neighborly, I tell James how I’ve been trying to win over my wife. When I’m done, his elbows are on the table, his hands clasped together. His eyes look a lot like the sky just before the storm earlier today.
“Why didn’t you tell us all this?”
I give him a pointed stare. “Would you have told you?”
“No. But I also don’t tell anyone anything. You, on the other hand, tell everyone everything.”
“I told Thayden.”
“You told our lawyer?”
“And friend,” I add. “Friend with built-in confidentiality. Turns out, his marriage had a similarly unconventional start.”
“Unconventional? Is that what you’re calling it?” James rubs a hand over his jaw. “Good for Thayden. I’m still more interested in why you felt like you had to hide this from your family. She’s wearing Mom’s ring, Patrick. That means something.”
His eyes flash, and I feel my heart trip a little before picking up speed. “I know it does. Trust me, I know.” Leaning back in the booth, I drag a hand through my hair, which still needs a trim. “Y’all didn’t have the best impression of Lindy before—with the whole The Woman thing. I thought this might paint her in a worse light.”
“Might?” James shakes his head and keeps going before I can cut in and defend her. “Pat, she’s using you.”
“She isn’t. Or—I guess in some ways she is, but only in ways I’ve agreed to. I suggested this. It was my idea.” That really, REALLY doesn’t make this sound better. For a guy known for his way around words, they all seem to be on strike at the moment.
James looks like he’s going to argue, so I just keep talking. “I knew what I was getting into. I meant my wedding vows.”
“You didn’t make any vows,” James remind me. “Your courthouse wedding took four minutes and fifty-seven seconds.”
Leave it to James to time my wedding. “Well, I made vows in my head. Silent promises. And I intend to fulfill them.”
“What about her? What promises did Lindy make you?”
A sudden mental image of Lindy’s rules comes to mind. Especially rule number seven—the one about dissolving the marriage at a mutually agreed-upon time. My gut churns.
Is that still what she’s thinking?
If Lindy keeps Jo, will she keep me too? If she loses custody, will she let me go too?
Each question leaves a sour taste in my mouth and the sensation of a brick being shoved into my belly. I’m being dragged down into the kinds of worries and dark thoughts I’ve been hiding in my mental cave for days. James’s words have rolled away the stone blocking them in, and now they’re all swirling around me, weighing me down.
“What makes all this worse is Jo,” James continues. “That little girl worships you.”