Chapter 3 #3
He shrugged. “Something came up, I guess.” His smile faltered, and he caught my gaze. “What the hell did I have waiting for me in Richmond anyhow? A shitty apartment I could barely afford and my job at Phar-Mor?”
“We just took the bar exam! You could have had a career in law!”
“Mmm-hmm.” We took a curve in the road, and the first houses at the edge of Goose Run appeared.
Bobby drummed his fingers against the top of the steering wheel.
“Yeah, coming up in court against assholes like Nate Bynow-Madsen and most of the rest of our graduating class seemed like a fun way to spend my life. How far do you think that career of mine would have advanced when half the legal fraternity in the city thought I wasn’t fit to shovel the shit of their polo horses?
I spent seven goddamn years of my life calling myself Robert and trying to pretend I knew how to fold a pocket square, and it was never gonna be good enough. ”
“You still could have had a career, though. Plenty of people need lawyers.”
“Sure, doing conveyancing and small claims maybe.” He snorted. “Let’s just say the shine had gone off the idea. So when the chance came along to do something different, I took it.”
“But… how?”
“Well now, that’s a whole other story,” he said, his smile reappearing. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it someday.”
The goose honked, making me jump. “At least tell me why the hell you have a goose?”
Bobby’s smile widened. “Lucille’s my good luck charm.”
“She’s a menace,” I said darkly, still not quite over being put on my ass by a goose.
Bobby threw back his head and laughed, and the familiar sound instantly carried me back to when we were a couple of dumb kids and I was obsessed with Bobby’s laugh and his rough charm and, oh, a dozen other things that pulled me toward him like iron filings to a magnet.
Back to before I’d gotten so caught up in everyone's expectations that I’d let the best thing to ever happen to me walk away.
And he’d been right. I’d justified it at the time by blaming my father’s expectations, but mostly I’d been scared of admitting to myself that what Bobby and I had was more than just a casual arrangement.
Admitting that I cared.
Except, what was it Bobby had said?
That ain’t an excuse for being a dumb, scared man nowadays, is it?
And I still didn’t have an answer to that.
We slowed down as we approached town, and I took a minute to marvel at the steady stream of traffic and the little clusters of people walking toward Main Street.
Some of the couples were holding hands, and most of them were wearing some form of rainbow clothing.
There was a sense of freedom and safety that I envied. I looked away.
“So should I let you out before we get to Main Street, or are you willin’ to risk being seen in my company?” Bobby asked, a wry twist to his mouth.
Ouch.
“I thought you said you weren’t holding a grudge.”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just because I don’t blame you, that don’t mean what happened didn’t hurt. Still does, if I’m honest.”
“We both knew what we had wasn’t going anywhere,” I said.
“Did we?” he asked. “Because I don’t recall having that particular discussion.”
We’d reached the top of Main Street, and he pulled into a vacant parking space and cut the engine. He went to open his door, but I reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Wait.”
“What am I waiting for, Granger?” He didn’t pull away, though, and the feel of his skin under my palm had all sorts of emotions crowding to the surface. The last time I’d seen Bobby Merritt it had ended badly, and I didn’t want to let it happen a second time.
“I want us to talk. About what happened.”
Bobby raised an eyebrow—and yeah, conversation hadn’t exactly been high on our list of priorities back in the day, had it?
I swallowed and admitted the thing I’d been doing my best to deny for the past twenty-five years. “I’ve missed you.”
His expression softened. “I missed you too. Every damn day.”
Hearing him admit it had butterfly wings beating against my ribs in a way I wasn’t expecting but that wasn’t unwelcome. “Dinner, maybe?” I suggested.
Bobby hummed, then shook his head. “I got this whole”—he motioned to the festival—“thing going on. And I gotta be honest, I don’t know that there’s a whole lot to say, unless some things have changed since last time.” He fixed me with a look. “Have they?”
There was a reason Bobby Merritt had consistently been at the top of our classes at law school, and it was his tenacity. He would have made a hell of a trial lawyer with his ability to keep asking the hard questions until he got an answer.
Had anything really changed? Had I? Could I?
I honestly didn’t know.
My silence must have been answer enough, though, because he nodded to himself. “’S what I thought. It was mighty good to see you again, Granger, but I’ve got a festival to run.”
He got out of the truck and busied himself clipping his goose onto her leash, and then he strode off into the crowd. I stood there and watched him leave, helpless to stop him.
Just like last time.