“I don’t know his name.” Adam cocked his head slightly, and Cara sighed. “He just reminds me of a guy I met at the beach last year.” She swirled the potato in little circles on her plate. “I thought he was going to ask me out, but he . . . didn’t.”
Adam and I glanced at each other.
“When?” he asked.
“September?” Cara’s frown returned. “I can’t really remember. After Labor Day . . . ?”
Eileen’s eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t ask, thank goodness. Cara appeared far enough along to be close to her due date, and my kid could definitely count backwards from nine.
“You were gonna run out on me for some blond surfer dude?”
Cara reddened, but copied Adam’s tone. “Nah, he was more Tina’s type. You know . . . yoga teacher? Hot body?”
“Oh, yeah! I remember her.” He grinned at his wife, but from the set of my kid’s mouth, she wasn’t fooled. Neither was I. Either he hid his hurt well, or they weren’t even dating when she became pregnant. Not that it was my business.
With a little effort, we resumed our meal—peppered only by chatter about mundane subjects. Adam told Cara that the fresh rosemary on the potato was from our yard, and she exclaimed that rosemary was her favorite, and how she’d always wanted an herb garden. Adam offered to help her start one, and Eileen chimed in about how rosemary and mint were the only plants that didn’t die around me—but I had to force myself to stay focused on the conversation.
As of now, I really needed to see Sal again. Two Mr. Olympians? The more I knew, the less I believed that Sal had ever had any interest in me. The person he’d really wanted to meet was Cara. But Maureen had arranged the party after Sal had—
“Mom!”
Damn it. I bit my lip, trying to remember the sounds that had flowed past my ears.
“Do you see something?” Adam had learned the signs.
“Sorry, no. Haven’t seen them all day. Just spacing out. What’d I miss?”
“Nothing. She was just testing you.”
My daughter flashed her best deviant grin. “May I go play with the puppies?”
“Isn’t there something you’re forgetting?”
She dipped her head. “Oops. Thanks for the food, Adam. It was yummy. Should I carry my plate to the kitchen?”
“It’s okay right there, kid. I’m shocked the dogs left you alone this long. Go find ‘em and rile ‘em up.” He winked at her, one conspirator to another, and watched her run off as he had earlier. “She is something, isn’t she?”
I smiled, my throat too tight for words. Did he even realize how wistful he sounded?
Cara seemed to. She studied her husband as he poured himself some more lemonade, her thin hand stroking the top of her belly as if to calm her child—or herself. My skin prickled, and I twisted in my seat to watch Eileen and her furry pack at the far end of the yard.
“So you haven’t seen anything today?” asked Adam.
“Not today.” When I turned back around, Cara was reaching for another veggie burger. “But they’re still there. I could see them if I wanted, but I guess nothing is important enough to make themselves visible.” I shrugged, “At least, I think that’s how it works. It might just be that it’s bright out here. It’s harder to see them when the sun is in my eyes.”
“I wouldn’t have thought that would make a difference.”
“Why not?”
“Makes it seem like something real.” He gestured an immediate apology. “Not real, as if you’re lying. I mean real like it could be measured. Documented.” He chuckled. “If only we could hook up a camera to your brain.”
“I don’t think anyone wants a picture of what my brain sees.”
He shook his head. “You’re wrong. I wish I knew what life is like for you.”
I hid behind my glass of lemonade. He didn’t mean it the way I’d heard it, but my cheeks warmed anyway.
“Mmpf! Not me!” Cara spoke around a mouthful of burger, “I’d never’ve volun . . . ” she swallowed, “ . . . volunteered for anything weird. Lila’s more than welcome to be the one.”
I gulped the sugary tartness and set my glass down. “Speaking of my weird eyeballs . . . Y’all know I didn’t really see a spider.”
Adam grunted, but Cara paused mid-bite. “Wha . . . ? Oh! I’m so clueless sometimes!” She suddenly seemed to notice the food in her hands and grimaced before plopping it on the plate. “What’d you see?”
“I’m really not sure. Never seen it before.” My tone was appropriately casual, and Adam settled back in his chair. Only the tendons in his neck gave him away.
I kept my description succinct—no gut reactions, no guesses—but I should’ve known brevity wouldn’t help.
“But you screamed!” Cara sounded panicky, “You must’ve thought they were bad!” Adam reached across the table and she clasped his hand. “It can’t be good if you’ve never seen it before . . . ?”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” I phrased my words carefully. “You were stressed, and it could have been . . . negative energy.” I ignored Adam’s second grunt. After all, what pop-culture-New-Age wannabe hadn’t spouted that term, using it to explain everything from migraines to a dysfunctional relationship?
“But lots of people are stressed out!”
“Yes, but I don’t make a habit of trying to see other people’s energy.” Cue: left eyebrow. “I’m not that interested.”
“You weren’t scared?”
“Startled. In case you hadn’t noticed, I was under a little stress, myself.”
Her forehead wrinkled, then her nose. “Does Maureen do that sort of thing a lot?”
“Only when I let my guard down.”
She nodded, her fingers slipping free of Adam’s. “Blind dates are the worst. I had a friend in college who was tricked into going on a Spring Break cruise with his sister’s friend’s cousin . . . ”
I made sure my expressions mirrored hers, but Adam’s silence was too loud for me to concentrate on her voice. As soon as Cara wasn’t around, he was going to demand more details—and I wasn’t sure what to tell him. His watchful stillness drew my awareness toward him. He felt . . . coiled. Taut. Vulnerable. He wanted to protect Cara, but who was protecting him?
Stop it! Crossing my arms, I
