The Liar

Muscles like iron, she remembered. He was stronger than he looked.

“We should take a shower.”

“We should?”

“Definitely.” He grinned as he carried her. “You’re going to love the bathroom.”

She did. She loved the generous space, the oversized claw-foot tub, the earthy tones of the tile work. Most of all she loved the enormous shower with its multiple jets—and what could be done in all that heat and steam by two inventive and agile people.

By the time they were in the kitchen again she felt fresh and new and so happy she wished she’d learned to tap-dance.

“I need to let my parents know I’m going to be a little later than I said.”

“Go ahead. Though since your mother gave you a condom on your way out the door, I don’t think they’ll be surprised.”

She sent a quick text, asked if Callie had gone to bed without any trouble. Then as Griff had the heat going under the sauce again, and water on for the pasta, she channeled some of the giddiness into a quick additional text to Emma Kate.

Been at Griff’s for two hours. We haven’t eaten yet. Bet you can guess why. I’m just going to say WOW until I talk to you in person. Make that WOW twice. Shelby.

“What can I do?” she asked Griff.

“You can have that glass of wine we never really got to.”

“All right.” She picked up her phone at the signal. “It’s just Mama saying Callie’s sleeping like an angel and to have a good time. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Callie was a little put out she wasn’t going on a date with you. I said we’d ask you on a date.”

“Oh yeah?” He glanced back as he pulled the salad out of the refrigerator.

“Why don’t I take care of that? Do you have a salad set so I can toss it?”

“Huh?”

“A couple of forks, then.”

“I got those. What kind of date am I going to be asked to go on?”

“A picnic.” She took the forks, the bottled Italian dressing, smiled back at him.

“Is that a cold fried chicken and potato salad picnic or an imaginary tea party picnic? That would determine the dress code.”

“The first. I know a place. It’s not a far drive, and a short hike after that. I was thinking Sunday afternoon, if that’s all right.”

“Two pretty redheads and food? I’m already there.”

“She’s awful fond of you, Griffin.”

“It’s mutual.”

“I know that, it shows. I just want to say, she’s had a lot of adjustments to make in a short time, and—”

“Looking for trouble, Red?”

“It kind of goes with the territory. You’ve got a kindness in you, Griff. That shows, too. I just want to say whatever happens with us, I hope you’ll . . . well, I hope you’ll still take her on a date now and again.”

“I’m lucky to know four generations of Donahue/Pomeroy women. I’m crazy about every one of them, and not looking for that to change. Sass and strength, it runs right through all of you.”

“I’m still hunting up pieces of mine.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He said it so casually it took her a minute to look up, blink.

“Most people I know, and I might be one of them, would’ve been crushed flat finding themselves millions of dollars in debt, and through none of their own doing.”

He’d have heard the details, she thought. That’s how things worked. “I went along with—”

“I’m going to repeat myself. Bullshit. What you did was be young and impulsive and fall for the wrong man. As wrong as it gets, from where I’m standing.”

“I can’t say you’re standing in the wrong place on that.”

“Then instead of staying crushed when you find out fully how wrong, find yourself on your own with a kid and buried under a mountain of debt, you pushed up the weight and started hacking away at it. And that little girl? She’s happy and confident because you made sure of it. I admire the hell out of you.”

Staggered, she stared at him. “Well. Well, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Plus you’re really hot”—he dumped pasta in the boiling water—“which is no small appeal.”

That made her laugh, go back to tossing the salad.

“You could answer a question for me, though, one that’s bugged me awhile.”

“I can try.”

“Why’d you stick? You weren’t happy, and it doesn’t take much to deduce he wasn’t much of a hands-on father with Callie. Why’d you stick?”

A fair question, she decided, under the circumstances. “I thought about divorce, more than once. And if I’d known all I know now . . . but I didn’t. And I didn’t want to fail. You know my granny was just sixteen when she married my granddaddy?”

“No.” It shocked the sensibilities. “I had to figure young, but that’s a baby.”

“They’ll be married fifty years before much longer. Half a century, and you have to figure they had some rough times in there. Her mama was but fifteen, and she and my great-granddaddy were together for thirty-eight years before he was killed when a semi crashed into his truck and three others one night, the winter of 1971. My own mama was still shy of eighteen when she married Daddy.”

“Women in your family stick.”