at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I was watching the trailer today, making sure the guy in the shiny Caddy wasn’t giving you any trouble.”
“You were?”
He nodded. “I was headed over to ask you something when he pulled up and went inside.”
She hesitated for a second. “Come in, Conner,” she said.
“I don’t want to impose,” he said. But he entered the little house quickly, before she could change her mind. He was quite impressed. It was a very homey, attractive place that seemed perfect for her, and it was completely settled, pictures hung, framed photos on the buffet, a dried flower arrangement and place mats on the dining table, a throw on the end of the sectional sofa. He followed her into the kitchen where he could see Dan’s handiwork in the granite countertops and darkly stained oak cupboards.
She had been sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper spread out and a cup of tea beside it.
“So,” she said. “That was him—the cheerful ex, wondering why we can’t be more chummy.”
“He came out of the trailer with some white foam on his pretty shoes,” Conner said, and he couldn’t suppress a grin.
“I lost it. His utter lack of remorse, the way he takes so little responsibility for what happened, like we should all be grown-ups and overlook it. ‘But Leslie,’” she mimicked. “‘I can’t help what I feel. It’s not as if I planned for my feelings to change.’” She snorted. “Is that accurate? That we can’t help what we feel?” she asked Conner, an imploring look on her face.
“Probably,” he said. He hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “But we can help what we do.”
She took a breath. “Would you like some tea?”
“No, thanks. But I’ll sit a minute if you feel like talking. If you want to get it off your chest.”
She indicated the chair opposite hers, and she sat down. “I don’t know if this will make sense, but one of the reasons I took the job down here is so I could stop talking about it. Well, that’s not true at all—I was far from done talking about it, but my friends and family were done listening. Who can blame them after a year and a half? You know, I have friends who divorced, who have kids they have to co-parent with the ex, who have very manageable relationships with exes, and I admire them for it! What is wrong with me? Why am I not the least bit grateful that Greg wants us to be friends?”
Conner shrugged before he said, “Maybe because he considers himself totally justified?”
“You’re right. That whole business of how he just couldn’t help himself, he had no control—that’s what makes me feel like crap!”
Conner smiled at her.
“Should you smile at me when I say I feel like crap?”
He shook his head, but the smile remained. “I was just thinking, I’m not making any excuses for him—he’s a dog—but that feeling? That you just can’t help yourself? That’s a feeling I like.”
“Is that a fact?” She braced an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand.
He nodded. “Yeah, it’s good. I can still control my actions when I feel that way, however.”
“And you do that, how?”
He leaned toward her. “By being strong.” He leaned back. “There’s something I thought you’d want to know—I don’t think it’ll be a problem for you, but Paul told me and Jack that the guy who came to the trailer today was your ex and that you shot him with the fire extinguisher.”
“Swell,” she said.
“Jack was impressed. Paul didn’t give any more personal details and I didn’t let on that I knew anything. But jeez, Les, it really made me want to be a chick.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “How so?”
“That was awesome. A guy couldn’t get away with that. I wish I could’ve hosed down my ex, but I had some serious training in how women had to be treated, even if they were very bad.”
“I guess I’m going to have this reputation now....” she speculated.
He
“I was watching the trailer today, making sure the guy in the shiny Caddy wasn’t giving you any trouble.”
“You were?”
He nodded. “I was headed over to ask you something when he pulled up and went inside.”
She hesitated for a second. “Come in, Conner,” she said.
“I don’t want to impose,” he said. But he entered the little house quickly, before she could change her mind. He was quite impressed. It was a very homey, attractive place that seemed perfect for her, and it was completely settled, pictures hung, framed photos on the buffet, a dried flower arrangement and place mats on the dining table, a throw on the end of the sectional sofa. He followed her into the kitchen where he could see Dan’s handiwork in the granite countertops and darkly stained oak cupboards.
She had been sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper spread out and a cup of tea beside it.
“So,” she said. “That was him—the cheerful ex, wondering why we can’t be more chummy.”
“He came out of the trailer with some white foam on his pretty shoes,” Conner said, and he couldn’t suppress a grin.
“I lost it. His utter lack of remorse, the way he takes so little responsibility for what happened, like we should all be grown-ups and overlook it. ‘But Leslie,’” she mimicked. “‘I can’t help what I feel. It’s not as if I planned for my feelings to change.’” She snorted. “Is that accurate? That we can’t help what we feel?” she asked Conner, an imploring look on her face.
“Probably,” he said. He hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “But we can help what we do.”
She took a breath. “Would you like some tea?”
“No, thanks. But I’ll sit a minute if you feel like talking. If you want to get it off your chest.”
She indicated the chair opposite hers, and she sat down. “I don’t know if this will make sense, but one of the reasons I took the job down here is so I could stop talking about it. Well, that’s not true at all—I was far from done talking about it, but my friends and family were done listening. Who can blame them after a year and a half? You know, I have friends who divorced, who have kids they have to co-parent with the ex, who have very manageable relationships with exes, and I admire them for it! What is wrong with me? Why am I not the least bit grateful that Greg wants us to be friends?”
Conner shrugged before he said, “Maybe because he considers himself totally justified?”
“You’re right. That whole business of how he just couldn’t help himself, he had no control—that’s what makes me feel like crap!”
Conner smiled at her.
“Should you smile at me when I say I feel like crap?”
He shook his head, but the smile remained. “I was just thinking, I’m not making any excuses for him—he’s a dog—but that feeling? That you just can’t help yourself? That’s a feeling I like.”
“Is that a fact?” She braced an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand.
He nodded. “Yeah, it’s good. I can still control my actions when I feel that way, however.”
“And you do that, how?”
He leaned toward her. “By being strong.” He leaned back. “There’s something I thought you’d want to know—I don’t think it’ll be a problem for you, but Paul told me and Jack that the guy who came to the trailer today was your ex and that you shot him with the fire extinguisher.”
“Swell,” she said.
“Jack was impressed. Paul didn’t give any more personal details and I didn’t let on that I knew anything. But jeez, Les, it really made me want to be a chick.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “How so?”
“That was awesome. A guy couldn’t get away with that. I wish I could’ve hosed down my ex, but I had some serious training in how women had to be treated, even if they were very bad.”
“I guess I’m going to have this reputation now....” she speculated.
He
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