Henhouse

21. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I knew it. You never get so flustered! Not even when I tell you every sordid detail about my last hookup,” Basil gloated. Effie regretted telling him about her date with Theo. He was far too proud of himself for calling it . “So when are you seeing him again?”

“We’re meeting for lunch today,” Effie said and damn it if she didn’t blush.

“Perfect,” Basil squealed before his face took on a serious tightness. “I’m proud of you. You deserve good things.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, well that’s a given,” Basil huffed, and Effie admired the confidence with which he knew what he deserved.

Effie frequently felt like she navigated her life with an outdated map.

She tried not to give it another thought and just accept that she did deserve good things as she took a box cutter to the parcel in front of her.

Opening the lid revealed skeins of the baby-pink merino wool her mother had been looking for, finally delivered after weeks on back order .

Effie pulled a couple to the side and stashed them under the register to ring up for herself at the end of the day. “Who are those for?” Basil asked, knowing Effie preferred an embroidery to a knitting needle.

“My mom. She wants to knit more hats for the NICU.”

“What’s her deal? You don’t talk about her much.”

Effie shrugged. Pamela Thatcher’s deal was difficult to put into words.

She had the distinct memory of watching Peter Pan for the first time and thinking that her mother would love Neverland.

As she grew older, she frequently found herself feeling like Wendy to her mother’s Tinker Bell.

An unspoken web of jealousy between them over Effie’s youth and prospects and Pamela’s lack thereof.

But for all of her faults, she was still Effie’s mother.

“I don’t know. She’s always been great at showing me exactly who I want to be. ”

“That’s nice,” Basil chimed, but he’d become distracted by a dropped stitch on the start of a very loud hat to match the very loud scarf he had finished.

It would have been nice, if it weren’t for the fact that all Effie wanted for her life directly contrasted the choices that Pamela had made for hers.

Effie learned much about who she wanted to be by deciding that she did not want to be her mother.

Maybe she’d feel differently if she got to see her in action at work.

It sounded like a grueling job, one that required selflessness and heart and grit.

But those things were stripped away after her shift.

The woman without the scrubs was attention seeking in so many ways.

Effie chided herself for being cruel. Even if it was only in her thoughts.

She didn’t know what a broken heart felt like, but she imagined it looked an awful lot like suppressed laugh lines and bottle-blonde hair.

Basil pulled her from her thoughts. “How’s the ball coming together?”

“Pretty well. The guest list is already almost full since Lou listed the tickets for sale so early this year.”

“I hope I can find a date for my second ticket.”

“Should have plenty of time for that given your track record.”

“No, no. We don’t bring those dates to this function. The ball is for romance, Effie. Or have you missed that memo for the last twenty years of your life?”

“It’s usually just a day that I have to sequester myself in my room until Louisa deems the house worthy of outside eyes.”

Basil rolled his own before that glimmer of his lit them up. “I cannot wait to see that man of yours in a tux and cummerbund. Mmm!”

“He’s not my man . I don’t even know if he’ll want to go.”

Or if he’ll still be around by then .

Effie ignored her pessimistic inner gremlin and continued unboxing yarn.

Hope was decidedly late, but it wasn’t her fault. She was distracted. Again . This time, by counting down the days until she saw Brayden. He hadn’t answered her email, but a mystery bouquet of flowers arrived on the doorstep the next day. She took that as a good sign.

It hadn’t occurred to her that they might not have been for her.

She hurried around the kitchen, a bagel smeared with cream cheese between her teeth, and a to-go mug of herbal tea in hand.

“You need more than carbs for lunch,” her mother scolded from the breakfast table.

“I’ll get something nutritious for dinner,” Hope garbled out from around the bagel. She took a bite and chewed. “I promise.”

Tibby gave Hope a stern look, one that, in the past, had ensured Hope went to bed on time, brushed her teeth, and always had her partners wear a condom.

That last one seemed to do little good recently, but it was sound advice nonetheless.

Her mother was full of sound advice. Hope yearned to emulate that in the coming years too.

“I wish I could go with you, but I have a closing.”

“No worries. I’ll bring you new pictures.

” Hope wedged the rest of the bagel between her teeth to grab her purse off the counter.

She rushed to the foyer and out the door before she was really late.

One more ultrasound, two meetings with her editor, and five more days until she could see Brayden and properly tell him about all she’d been afraid of, and better yet, all she looked forward to.

“Mmm. Yours are better,” Theo moaned. Effie and Theo sat on a bench in the park sharing scones she had baked the night before. Theo brought salads to their lunchtime rendezvous and Effie provided the treats and tea.

“I’m glad you agree.” Effie laughed. He took another bite, and the rumble from his throat was almost certainly meant to mimic a different kind of satisfaction. “They aren’t that good.”

“Try telling my taste buds.” He paused a long moment, challenging Effie’s nerves with his gaze before he said, “Thank you. No one’s ever baked for me before.”

“No?” Were there other ways people showed affection? Because Effie baked to make you feel better, to spread good cheer, to tell you she cared .

“It’s a rarity for someone to have your skill sets and be age-appropriate for me to date,” he teased, his voice smooth as butter.

“You have an uncanny habit of making me wonder if I should be offended.”

“I never mean any offense, sunshine.” He grinned and side-eyed Effie like he waited to see if she’d object to the pet name.

“Vast improvement from eggplant.”

“I do aim to please.” He turned pensive. “What does sunshine taste like?”

“Orange mango juice.” Theo scrunched his face, apparently not a fan of such a combination. “I like it!” And she did. It tasted like a vacation on the beach and the rich hues of sunset and the passion that tropical paradises promised. Maybe the latter had more to do with who called her sunshine.

“Well, that’s all that matters then.”

Theo balled their trash and tucked it into the to-go bag from their lunch.

In one swift, expert move he put his arm around Effie and pulled her in close.

She instinctively tensed, her stomach thrown into her throat.

She was not well-versed in all the little ways you might touch or hold or shower affection on someone.

It had her tingling at every touch and wondering if he could tell her heart was off to the Kentucky Derby.

Theo leaned over, lifting her opposite hand to reach his that draped over her shoulder and intertwined their fingers. Were her hands sweaty? God, why was this so nerve-wracking?

But Theo met her gaze, raised his brows in warning or jest, and kissed the top of her head, and her stomach settled.

Effie couldn’t help but notice that when she looked into his eyes, she wasn’t nervous at all.

It was the not knowing where his hands might roam, or his lips, or where he wanted them to go that had her insides roiling.

What was it he’d said about her sign as an Aquarius?

That it could manifest in thinking too much about everything?

Maybe it was that, but the ease with which they started seeing each other had her wary too.

In all of her imaginings, she’d have to become someone outgoing and bold with the constitution of a woman who made dating a sport in order to find a relationship.

Instead, it nearly fell into her lap. She couldn’t have been more grateful for how normal it felt to sit beside Theo on a park bench, the sun beating down on them on a breezy day in May.

Butterfly-riddled belly aside. But it didn’t change the fact that it somehow felt too smooth a transition.

Effie let her head relax onto Theo’s shoulder, which was easy given how much taller he was than her. She rolled her head to the side so she could look him in the eye once more.

He had a face that yearned to be photographed.

Not in a stylized model kind of way, but in candid moments that captured the dreamy stare she’d noticed him give the leaves on the trees and the sun as it broke through fluffy clouds.

Or that caught him flashing a genuine smile that rendered him most handsome.

Maybe it was his shampoo or cologne or even his laundry detergent, but some amazing scent drew her in.

The taut waffle weave of his shirt over his broad shoulders had her fluttering for totally different reasons.

Effie held those hazel eyes in hers and thought maybe she was already falling for him.

“I kind of like you,” she offered. The thump of her heart suggested instead that she just confessed she was enamored, buying a wedding dress, and planning to have lots of sex and babies with him .

“I kind of like you too, sunshine,” he whispered, a broad smile on his lips.

He planted them on hers and the air rushed from Effie’s lungs.

She didn’t think it would ever stop being a shock to her system when their breath mingled and his lips claimed hers.

It was exciting and intoxicating, and she could pretend she did it with confidence until it became true.

Effie never used to understand PDA. She thought people had short leashes on their libido and might do well to take a cold shower if they couldn’t go a few hours in public without shoving their tongues down each other’s throats.

But here, now, with Theo at the tip of her tongue, she wasn’t sure why anyone did anything but kiss on park benches, in the light of day, for all the world to see.

I still love you.

The words were a relief, even if Brayden harbored his own ill feelings about Hope’s behavior as of late. He knew something besides Chloe had been bothering her to have altered their dynamic so drastically.

A phone call before Sunday might have been nice.

A quick update over text.

But Hope wanted to wait until they were in person to share everything.

Maybe she feared he wouldn’t hear her out if they weren’t face to face.

She should know him better than that. It saddened him to think that she could ever conceive of a world where he was a cheater, where he wouldn’t give her space to say her piece, where he would dismiss her so coolly as she had him.

The email came at the exact right time. He’d been toiling all week, fighting for ground in his divorce battle, but with each meeting, each mediation, all he saw was the life he imagined slipping through his fingers.

It was excruciating to be at Chloe’s mercy.

Even more so was the truth that he had been so wrapped up in her, so in love that he never even noticed he wasn’t what she wanted.

He wasn’t the prize. The week of mediation had done a lot to quell his anger with Hope, if only because he would have stayed the hell away if he could have too.

I still love you . Well, so did he. That’s why he’d made up his mind almost instantly upon reading Hope’s email that he would meet her on Sunday afternoon.

He didn’t feel her note required a response.

She wanted to set a time and place? Then he’d tease out the rom-com nature of the encounter and let her wait and see if he showed, if only for the flirtation of it.

He could be coy when he wanted to. Maybe it wouldn’t kill him to play a little hard to get either.

That thought had him rolling his eyes at himself as he hefted another fire extinguisher onto the cart beside his van.

He preferred to roll a stock of them through facilities like this, so he didn’t have to make twenty trips out to the van or make detailed notes of what rooms had out-of-date equipment along the way.

He generally had to replace at least three extinguishers in a place this size, so he packed six.

He loaded his forms and iPad onto the top shelf of the cart and wheeled the whole thing up the handicap ramp to the gleaming glass doors. The automatic slider opened to let him inside. He stopped at the front desk to talk with the receptionist.

“I have to check the entire building for safety code violations and make sure all of your equipment is up to date. Is the first floor clear, or are any of the rooms occupied? ”

The receptionist made a few keystrokes on the laptop before her, seeming to check the schedule for the day. “They should be clear, and the staff has been warned you’d be in today. Just knock first. They’ll let you know if you can come in.”

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

And with that, Brayden strode down the beige linoleum hall, innumerable doors flanking him all the way. He sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

Brayden pushed his cart down the eastern hallway on the first floor.

So far, he’d only had to replace one extinguisher and encountered two occupied rooms. His sweeps didn’t take long, so no one gave him grief, but he preferred not to interrupt.

He still had thirty exam rooms, suites, and staff lounges to inspect before he could call it a day.

He pulled up to the next door and knocked lightly. The come in from the other side was barely audible, but he eased the door open nonetheless.

“Sorry to bother you I’ll—”

Brayden took in the sterile exam room—the tray of tools beside the bench, the model of the female reproductive system by the window.

And Hope.