Chapter 17 #2
“Who’s the giant?” Emily asks, nodding toward the door, which is completely filled by Kalli’s fiancé.
“Deacon Clark. Former pro football player and Kalli’s fiancé. Very recent fiancé,” I add, as their greeting kiss stretches out a little longer than is probably decent in the middle of a coffee shop. When they pull apart, her cheeks are pink and she’s beaming.
“Is this town some kind of hotbed of football players?” Jacks asks. “Are they grown out in fields like a crop of potatoes?”
I laugh. “Not that I know of. I think it’s simply the magnetic draw of Tank Graham.”
Emily gives me a look. “Can’t wait to hear about your personal experience with that later. Now,” she says, pulling out her wallet. “What should I order? What’s good here?”
“Everything,” I tell her honestly.
“But they’re sold out of pastries,” a woman a few tables away adds, giving me a pointed look.
“You might want to get your drinks to go before there’s a mutiny involving the shortage of baked goods,” I whisper to Emily.
The Emilys prove to be much less worried about boundaries than I am, which means they’re far more nosy than I was the second they walk into Tank’s loft. I find myself scurrying after them as they open drawers and closet doors, even going through his room, which I’ve tried to stay out of.
Jacks stops just short of climbing into his bed but does pull back the comforter to check the thread count on his sheets. “Mmmm … satin. Very comfortable.”
I smooth down the comforter the moment she steps away. “I really don’t think we should be—”
“Good news. I don’t see any medications you need to be concerned about,” Emily says, emerging from Tank’s bathroom.
I’m horrified. “Did you go through his medicine cabinet?”
“Of course not.” Emily sniffs. “I’m not a snoop.”
“Says the woman coming out of a man’s private bathroom,” Jacks says with a cackle.
“What I mean,” Emily continues, “is that I said I didn’t see any medications you should be concerned about. There’s not much on the counter at all. I approve of his cleanliness.”
“Excellent. Now can we please get out of his bedroom?”
Tank could come home at any moment. I don’t think he’d be angry, given the way he’s so hospitable with his place. Molly went into his bathroom yesterday to get a first aid kit without any hesitation.
But we’re absolutely violating his privacy. Things between us are still very new, and I don’t want to be caught in here, snooping with two people he’s never met.
If I had a push broom, I’d be using it to forcibly drive the Emilys out. Instead, I try to shoo them with my hands, which works with Jacks. But it seems to slow Emily down, as she strolls casually through his bedroom, eyeing everything from his curtains to the framed pictures on the walls.
Finally, I get them both out and close Tank’s door behind us.
Emily and I take our coffees to the sectional and Jacks settles down in the leather recliner.
Though every time he’s been with me here, Tank sat on the couch, I think of this chair as his.
It looks expensive, but also broken in, and there’s a pair of reading glasses on the end table next to it, which makes me smile, thinking of the conversation we had this morning.
“You’re still doing this?” Emily says, picking up a game controller with two fingers with a look of disdain.
“It’s a healthy way of coping with stress.”
“Two controllers,” Jacks says with a knowing look. “You weren’t playing alone, were you?”
“I was. And then … Tank played with me.”
“I may have to deduct points from him if he’s a grown man who plays video games,” Emily says, setting the controller on the coffee table.
“Not that it matters, but it was his first time, and he was absolutely terrible.”
“You have the look of a woman in love,” Jacks says, her smile wide.
Emily snorts, probably at my expression now, which is less like love and more like shock at the use of the word love.
“You just broke a cardinal rule,” Emily tells Jacks. “It’s like hockey players touching the Stanley Cup if they haven’t won it—you can’t mention love too early or you’ll jinx it.”
“Oh, psh!” Jacks waves a hand. “I don’t believe in jinxes. But I do know the look of someone who’s down bad.”
Emily frowns. “I’m not sure exactly what down bad means, but somehow, I still think it’s the wrong term.”
I press both hands to my cheeks, which I’m sure are flaming. For once, I’m at a loss for how to respond.
I’m not in love with Tank Graham. That would be ridiculous after so little time!
But the feelings I have for him are definitely heading in that direction. Hearing Jacks say the word love struck a chord that resonated perfectly inside me. Enough that I wouldn’t confirm it, but I can’t quite bring myself to deny it.
Maybe I’m just kiss-drunk.
“She looks more like a woman who’s been working too hard and not sleeping enough,” Emily says, examining me. “Dark circles, brittle hair—”
“Hey!” I protest. “My hair is fine.”
“Ha!” Jacks points a finger at me, and I realize that she and Emily both have gotcha looks and big smiles on their faces. “She denied the brittle hair accusation, but did not deny being in love. She’s definitely in love.”
“Or well on the way,” Emily agrees, taking a sip of her drink.
“Mm, this pistachio latte is delicious. You were right about that coffee shop, Rose. Now, why don’t you catch us up on what we’ve missed with regards to your new beau and also your business.
You’ve been far too quiet since you’ve moved here, which concerns us both.
Also, I’m sorry about the hair comment. It wasn’t true. Your hair looks amazing, as always.”
Normally, I hold pace with the whirlwind of my two best friends just fine. But right now, I feel like I’ve been thrown overboard and am trying to keep my head above water while they’re swimming circles around me.
“Just breathe,” Jacks says. “And then pick where you want to start and go.”
I take her advice and draw in a deep breath. Then, I launch into a long and rambling account of how things have gone from me harboring a tiny, baby crush on Tank to staying at his place, going on a first date, baking with his family, and he and I making out like two teenagers.
The two of them simply listen and make appropriate noises at all the right times. Jacks grins through all of it, and Emily looks more like a judge hearing closing statements before needing to deliver a verdict.
“Well, you’ve certainly accomplished a lot in the past—how many days has it been?” Emily asks.
“Almost a week,” I say, which is slightly fudging the numbers to make me feel better about the pace. It feels both like more and less time. “That’s why I can’t be in love. It’s impossible after five days. But I do really like him.”
“Nothing is impossible when it comes to love,” Jacks says, wiping at her eyes. “Not time or anything else. I love this for you. You deserve it.”
“Does anyone really deserve love? And also, could we maybe use another word?” I ask, fanning my face. “I already told you I completely freaked out on him this morning. Keep saying love and you might not jinx me, but you might send me into some kind of spiral. I mean, this is all too fast, right?”
Emily shakes her head, smiling softly. “No such thing when you’re our age. Every moment counts.”
“Says the woman going on Tinder dates.” Jacks gives Emily a pointed look.
“Hey—I’m taking what moments—and men—I can get,” Emily says. “I may not be falling in love, but I do believe it can happen fast or happen slow. There are no rules, and if you try to pin it down, you obviously don’t understand it.”
“Don’t overthink it,” Jacks says. “But if it makes you feel better, we can use another word.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Even if I think love is the right one.”
My nose starts to burn and my throat tightens, but I refuse to cry right now.
Jacks lost her husband to cancer fifteen years ago, not long before David died.
And though I’ve never met someone so generous with her love, Jacks says she’s not open to romantic love again.
Evan was it for her. She made her peace with that and has not one time thought to reconsider.
Her life is full to the brim with activities, events, and her grandchildren—all things that she assures us bring her joy—but just not romance.
I know this doesn’t mean she isn’t thrilled for me, but it makes me sad still. It may be her choice, one she’s completely at peace with, but it still strikes me as vitally sad that someone so amazing with so much to give is set on staying alone.
Up until Tank, I thought I’d be right there with her. Single and (mostly) content forever.
“As the resident expert in failed marriages, I can safely say there is such a thing as too fast,” Emily says. “But I wouldn’t say so here. It’s all about context. Tank isn’t some stranger you met at a bar—“
“Or on a dating app!” Jacks adds with a giggle.
Rolling her eyes, Emily continues. “Or on a dating app. From what you’re saying, it sounds like his family and this whole little town vouch for his character. Everyone has secrets they keep, but it’s not those you need to worry about. It’s the skeletons buried in the backyard.”
“I thought the saying was skeletons in the closet,” says Jacks.
Emily shrugs. “Smart criminals are better at hiding bodies.”
“Are we still talking about metaphorical bodies?” I ask. “Because this just took a dark turn.”
“Mostly,” is all Emily will say.
Emily was on marriage number two when the three of us met at what was supposed to be a book club at the local library.
We were the only ones who didn’t even know the title of the book—we were all just looking for friends.
The book turned out to be called Being Vocal with Your Vulva and the discussion centered around speaking and singing to your vulva.
I mean, good for all the other women in the room, who showed up on purpose for this book and this topic. I hope vocalizing to their vulvas works for them—whatever that means.