“Did you enjoy that?” he asked when they were back in the car.
“Very much,” Grace said, although she hadn’t seemed to. She smiled, though, and her face was so beautiful in the lights from the parking lot that he wanted to kiss her. Now.
He leaned across the console, rested one hand against her cheek and kissed her lightly. She smiled uncertainly, then turned her head before he could kiss her again.
He drew away.
“I think we need to talk,” he said.
She looked down at her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Rory said.
“But I do need to understand why you pull away when I try to get close.”
She looked out the window, drawing in a long breath.
“I’m … not ready,” she said.
“It’s just that I haven’t been out of my marriage all that long. I’m confused about my feelings these days.” She looked at him.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“It’s understandable,” Rory said, although he felt the disappointment down to his toes.
“I’d rather you be honest about your feelings than try to pretend that everything’s okay.” He remembered how he’d felt when Glorianne first left him. “Are you hoping to get back together with your husband?” he asked.
“No,” she said firmly.
“That’s over.”
“What happened?” He tried to sound sympathetic rather than curious.
She bit her lip.
“Can’t talk about it,” she said. Even getting those four words out seemed an effort.
He squeezed her shoulder.
“That’s okay,” he said, and he reached for the key in the ignition. “Where shall we go to eat?” he asked as he pulled into the road.
“What do you feel like?”
“I’m really not hungry, Rory,” she said.
“I think I just want to go home. I’m sorry to put a damper on your evening.”
He was disappointed by the sudden change of plans, but he had the feeling she needed a good long cry and didn’t want to do that in front of him. Even Daria had cried in front of him when she told him about the plane crash. Why was it so much easier to talk about difficult topics with a friend than with a potential lover?
“It’s not a problem,” he said.
They were both quiet on the drive to Poll-Rory, and he had a sudden, jarring thought: a mastectomy. Maybe her illness had been breast cancer. That would explain the high-necked bathing suits she wore. It would explain her fear of intimacy. He glanced at her as he drove. Her face was turned away from him, toward the window, and he wished there was something he could say to ease whatever fear and pain existed inside her. But it would have to be her decision to confide in him. He could think of nothing he could do to hasten that process.
Daria looked up from her seat on the rocker as Rory pulled into his driveway. She and Chloe were sitting on the Sea Shanty porch, reading, but now Daria’s attention was fixed on the car across the cul-de-sac.
Rory got out of the driver’s side of the car, and Grace emerged from the passenger side. There was a physical pain in Daria’s chest—a twisting, wrenching feeling. Rory rested his hand on Grace’s back as they walked toward her car at the curb. Grace got into her car, and Rory leaned close to the open window to talk to her, or to kiss her —Daria couldn’t see. Rory stood up from the car and walked into his cottage. The pain in Daria’s chest sharpened, and she knew her feelings for Rory were out of control.
“I’m worried about you.”
Daria jumped at the sound of Chloe’s voice, unaware that her sister had been watching her.
“Why?” she asked.
Chloe rested her book upside down on her knees. “Because of Rory,” she said.
“Because of the way you feel about him.”
“It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Yes, it is. And it’s crazy, Daria. I understand. You’re still reeling from Pete. You’d been with him for six years and you thought you would have married him by now. Of course you’re vulnerable. But infatuation with Rory Taylor is not the answer. It’s got to be taking a toll on you, pining for him every day.”
“I’m not pining,” Daria said.
“You are, too. And it’s pretty obvious he’s interested in Grace. I mean, he cares about you as a friend, same as he did back when you were kids. But his romantic interest is in Grace, Daria. You can see that, can’t you?”
“Of course, I see that. That’s what hurts.”
