But Vanessa didn’t stop. She simply stopped pretending.
“She actually said that?”
She leaned over the fence whenever Irvin was outside.
She brought homemade cookies and said she’d made too many.
She found excuses to touch his arm during conversations, and every time she did, he stepped away.
Then she announced a big backyard barbecue for the neighborhood.
Irvin received an invitation.
I didn’t.
She announced a big backyard barbecue
He showed it to me at the kitchen counter and frowned. “I’m not going.”
I looked through the window toward Vanessa’s house.
Then I thought about the jar, the shelf, the lightbulbs, and every helpless little emergency she’d invented to borrow my husband.
An idea clicked into place.
“Actually,” I said, “I think you should.”
Irvin stared at me. “Why?”
“I’m not going.”
“Trust me.”
He studied my face for a moment, then slowly smiled. “Should I be worried?”
“Not about me.”
