Page 121 of Bend Toward the Sun
“Do you bake, Frankie?” Dad asked.
“Well, I stress-bake. Mostly as a front to eat the raw cookie dough,” Frankie replied.
Harry didn’t miss Mal’s rare, subtle smile at Frankie’s quip.Good luck with that, bud.
“Maybe we can share recipes,” Dad said.
“You know we have to have an actual bed-and-breakfast for you to serve food to guests, right, Dad?” Patrick said.
“If I bake it, they will come,” Dad replied.
“I like scones with grape jelly,” Arden said. She and Rowan shared a strange smile from across the table.
Ma turned to Rowan. “Rowan, didn’t you say you wanted to plant a few Concord vines along the southern fence? We could make our own jelly.”
Harry swung his attention to Ma. “How the hell is she going to do that? She doesn’t live here.”
“I’m sitting right in front of you. Ask me,” Rowan said.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. The rest of the evening was the same: rapid-fire conversational threads twisting and intersecting and diverting in ways that made it impossible to keep up. It felt like they were going to stay there for hours.
Maren was the one to bail them out of the endless loop of inane chatter. Nate was still chewing a mouthful of cake when he stood with her and Leo to leave.
“Well, Bradys. It’s been fun,” she said, “but it’s late, and this cute little tyrant is going to have me up every few hours tonight wanting the boob.”
“Just stick a pacifier in Nate’s mouth and tell him to leave you alone,” Arden said.
Nate swallowed his cake, smirked, and wagged a playful finger at her. “Real cute, kiddo. Speaking of babies, remind me to tell you about the time you crapped your diaper all the way up to your armpits during our Ocean City family vacation.”
Arden laughed. “Fine, fine, I yield.”
Duncan stood too, gathering the kids. “Let’s go, turkeys.”
Frankie followed suit. “It’s a long drive into the city when you’re tired and full of good food. Thank you for including me tonight. I’ve missed you all.” She leaned in to whisper something to Rowan. As she listened, her downcast lashes looked impossibly soft over cheekbones more prominent than he remembered. She seemed a gentler version of the woman he left in July, and somehow, that antagonized him even more.
Arden looped an arm through Frankie’s to see her out, Patrick and Mercy gave hugs and kisses, and Mal followed them all after a spare nod to Rowan.
Ma and Dad cleared the table, and just like that, Harry was alone with Rowan.
Stand up and leave, Harry.
The Debussy record had stopped, and the family’s voices all faded as they went their separate directions. It was quiet enough he heard the grandfather clock ticking in the foyer. Harry glowered at Rowan across the table in a way that would have had a lesser person shrinking away. Not her, though. She met and held his gaze.
“You got what you wanted, you know,” she said. “You told me you wanted it to hurt if I walked away. It hurt.”
“You asked me to make it easy.” Harry almost choked on the words. “I did.”
“Was it?” She fidgeted with the stem of her wineglass. “Easy?”
Get the fuck out, Harry.
The tip of her tongue darted out to dampen her bottom lip, and her eyes burned like garnets in the candlelight. Christ, she was almost too bright for his eyes. A living flame. Consumptive fire that would burn his body and soul to ash if he gave it the chance. He couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t look away.
“It’s not polite to stare.” She nudged her chin up.
Harry flinched. Goddamnher.
He swigged wine straight from the bottle, setting it back down with a loudthunk. “I’m trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing here.”