Chapter 1 Elyse
ELYSE
Drew was stirring his world-famous pasta sauce when I walked into my kitchen fifteen minutes later.
He traveled so much for work, it was always a nice surprise to find him at home when I returned after a long day at the bookstore.
The familiar aroma of garlic, oregano, and bay leaves greeted me at the door and I floated cartoon-like on its trail.
Drew was most likely listening to a history documentary through his AirPods and didn't see me standing there right away, giving me a chance to enjoy a rare occurrence: him standing still.
He was turned away from me, but even his partial profile still gave me butterflies.
One navy-golf-polo-clad arm was stirring while the other was supporting his weight as he leaned his six-foot-four frame against the counter, his right foot crossed behind his left.
Around the bottom of the green golf hat he'd picked up during our most recent trip to Arizona, the curls that seemed to pop up overnight were attempting to make a run for it, turning this way and that to escape.
After nearly thirty years (off and on), he was still my favorite person.
Eden was sitting at attention by his feet, two pointy ears and every brown and black hair quivering with the anticipation of what she knew was to come.
She might not have had what it took to be a police dog like some of her littermates, but she had an award-winning track record of snapping up every last morsel of food that had ever fallen within six feet of any cooking or food prep surface in our kitchen.
She was looking up at my husband like he had hung the moon, and I couldn't say I blamed her.
He was deep in concentration, but his face opened into a huge smile when he saw me. "That's quite an outfit you've got there." His smile faded when he looked down and saw my shoes.
"I was just checking on a few things at the store."
"Your shoes are covered in sand. Do you have a new immersive beach reads display at work or do you want to just tell me where you really were?"
"Well, I was going to stop by work—"
"Save it, Elyse. You and I have known each other long enough that I can tell when you're not being truthful. Just tell me where you were."
"Well, there was this mom—"
He rolled his eyes and turned back to his sauce. "And here we go."
"Drew just, hear me out. This mom has four kids at home, and her husband is constantly coming home late. He smells like sunscreen, and he was supposedly at the office all day. And he's smiling."
"Oh, no, not smiling."
"Yes, smiling. And he hasn't been very kind to her lately."
"Couples fight, Elyse. It's a normal part of marriage."
"Well, couples especially fight when the husband is sitting at Frenchy's with his little side piece while his wife is at home taking care of the children he helped create."
"Good grief, Elyse. How long is this going to go on? You're going to end up really pissing someone off."
"I'll be fine, Drew. You worry too much."
He set the wooden spoon down on a nearby spoon rest and crossed the kitchen to stand in front of me. He was close enough that his vivid green eyes blurred. "I worry exactly the right amount for the kinds of shit you get yourself into," he said as he gently squeezed my shoulders.
I shook him off and took a step back so I could breathe. "I didn't get myself into anything today. I sat down, I had lunch, I took a few pictures, I came home. What's the big deal?"
Drew's arms dropped to his sides as he rolled his eyes.
"The big deal is that one of these days someone is not going to appreciate having their picture taken and you are going to be the one standing there.
I'm going to get a phone call one of these days that you're hurt.
Do you think you'll listen at that point? "
"Probably not."
"That's what I thought." He turned once again to continue stirring, but his lecture continued.
"I don't understand why you feel the need to do this.
You've got a job you love at the bookstore.
You've got your book club. You've got your golf league.
You have all the friends you could possibly want.
You're helping Paige with her writing retreats.
And we've got our Jamaica trip coming up.
Does all of that make you horribly unhappy?
Are you not fulfilled? What is it? How can I help you? "
"I just like feeling needed. I like feeling helpful, and I certainly don't like men out there thinking that they can do whatever they want and get away with it.
" I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around him from behind, prompting him to turn and mirror my affection.
His hand rubbed my back while his heartbeat slammed into me.
I hated that I'd upset him, but not enough to relent. It was the only way I had to feel as if all the lies in my own life could be swept away, instead of just under the rug.
He stepped back and gently took my hand, pulling me over to the kitchen table.
He pulled my chair out for me, then turned his and sat so we were face to face.
This was his favorite "Come to Jesus" speech position.
"Honey, I understand your reasoning behind this.
If anybody understands you, it is me. But what I don't understand is why you continue to put yourself in harm's way for perfect strangers. "
"They're not strangers. These are our neighbors.
" My eyes remained on his face as my hands searched for the closest thing to fiddle with.
A napkin left over from breakfast fell victim to my nervous energy as I folded it into a tiny square and flicked it into his lap.
"Two points," I said deadpan, but Drew was less than impressed with my deflection skills.
He picked up the projectile and set it on the table between us, then leaned over to still my hands before I could grab it again.
"This is exactly my point. These are our neighbors, and you're getting yourself involved in their personal business.
When this first started out, and it was something you were doing once in a while, I thought for sure it was going to blow over quickly.
And now this has been going on for two years, and it just doesn't seem like this is going to end well. "
Eden, having given up on Drew returning to his dropping station anytime soon, wandered over and lowered her head into my lap, volunteering the baby-chick-soft fur under her ears as tribute. I wrapped my hands around her ears and bent to kiss the top of her head.
"I promise you that I'm careful. I'm going to be fine. Most of the time I just follow them for a couple days, take a few notes, snap a few pictures. Super stealthily, of course. Besides, it only takes them a little while to mess up and after that, my job is done."
"Yeah, except that lady goes on these mommy groups that you're on and tells everyone how great you are, and then the next thing you know, her friend is calling you, wanting you to follow her husband around.
I'm telling you Elyse, this has got to stop.
You're putting yourself in harm's way and there just isn't any logical explanation for why. "
"Not everything I do has to be logical."
Drew took a measured breath in and wiped invisible sweat from his forehead. "Don't I know it. But, Elyse, this is definitely high up on the scale of illogical behavior. I just don't see this ending well."
I admitted we had a deep mutual understanding based on shared history, even though we'd only been together for a little over a decade.
Drew had often tagged along while his Dad was coaching my high school's varsity softball team.
We played catch after every practice until the street lights came on, then he walked me back home.
After two seasons of playing catch, he finally worked up the courage to ask me out during the end-of-season party at the end of our senior year.
We had the best summer of our lives until we went our separate ways when we left for our respective colleges.
Nearly two decades later, who happened to pop up on my LinkedIn?
That's right! My old softball coach! Just kidding.
It was Drew. Like me, he was newly single, and like me, he was pretty much over other people's nonsense.
Three years later, we said "I do" on the beach in Oyster Bay, Jamaica, and it had been like one big sleepover with my best friend.
I know. Barf. But we were content and fulfilled. Mostly.