Page 99 of Forest Proximity
“Yeah.” I shove a bite of pancakes in my mouth, then say around my food, “I wouldn’t call it rigging the bet.” I swallow. “But by the time I realized how I feel about Adam, I was in too deep. I was going to fess up to everyone, but I wanted a little more time to find ... something. I’m sorry, Marlow—”
“It got out of hand.” She swats a hand at my pitiful explanation and apology. “I still don’t get why you were willing to die on this hill.”
“Marlow.” I fix her with a look. She knows me and every one of my weaknesses, including my need to be right about everything all of the time. Well, I was wrong this time. I’m mentally preparing to own up to it.
She grimaces, nodding in concession. I appreciate her not rubbing it in. Marlow’s a good friend like that. I need to follow her lead.
“Everyone hates me.” I take another bite of pancakes.
She winces in agreement. “They’ll love you again once you apologize. No one’s perfect, Stevie.”
Story of my life, huh?
There aren’t enough pancakes in the world.
Chapter 37
Adam
“I’m coming with you,” my sister announces.
I shake my head, slipping my keys into my pocket. “You’re, uh ... You’re not on the committee, Ruth.” It’s a weak excuse, but my sister will undoubtedly help Stevie and me dig our grave deeper—with the best of intentions, of course.
She’s already tying Sammie’s shoes, though. “Pfft. I love how you’re all acting like this committee is legitimate.” She exaggerates an eye roll. “How often do I come up here to see you?” She puts her daughter down and slides her feet into her sandals. “Besides, I want to observe my newly hatched social butterfly brother in action. Friends? A girlfriend? I need to see it. It will comfort my sisterly heart.”
“Fine.” I twist my front doorknob, gesturing toward the stairs. It’s sprinkling again. My road is going to be a swamp. “Come on. And by the way, a butterflyeclosesfrom a chrysalis. Hatching is what chicks do.”
Ruth prances out the door ahead of me, Sammie on her hip. She holds up an index finger, pointing it back at me over her head. “Nerd.”
A few minutes later I’ve moved Sammie’s car seat into my truck, and I’m buckling her in, when a thought occurs to me.“Maybe don’t say anything until the meeting is done.” If there’s a better way to ask my sister to zip her lips, after a few decades I still haven’t found one.
“What are you afraid of?” she asks with a sly smile, clicking her seat belt into place.
I frown, circling my truck before I respond. What am I afraid of? I’m concerned that this meeting will blow up. Stevie doesn’t like to be wrong, and she cares a lot about this thing that she’s so epically wrong about. It’s a lot of crow to eat in one sitting.
Or am I more worried that Stevie will decide that she was right that no man is good enough for her? That thought—the true root of my worry—nudges at me. I picture being alone again after a few weeks of having her bright spark in my life, and I can’t handle it. I need her. I can’t lose her, but I’m afraid I might.
It’s also a room full of people, though I don’t find the prospect as daunting as I would have a few weeks ago.
I don’t say any of that to Ruth. Instead, I let her question hang as I navigate to the town office building and lead us into the small room where we had our last committee meeting.
Before we walk inside, Ruth puts a hand on my arm, leaning in to whisper, “It’ll work out, Adam. Stevie’s smart. Trust her.”
I want to. I don’t think I have a choice, anyway. I can’t seem to leave the woman alone. I nod, tightening my jaw. Why is it so hot out here? I’m itching to peel off my sweatshirt, but I’m not sure I can.
I follow Ruth and Sammie inside, where it looks like we’re the last to arrive. Ike and Diana Wentworth are already seated at the head of the conference table, with Inger, Muffie, and Marlow on one side, and August and Stevie on the other. She beams up at me, her big brown eyes bright. It's hardly been twenty-four hours since I’ve seen her, but it feels far too long.
Stevie’s dad is seated in a row of chairs that line the back wall, wearing one of his daughter’s “I Saw Bigfoot inCape Georgeana, Maine” T-shirts. His proud grin is a perfect masculine replica of his daughter’s.
That settles it. I’m doing it. I didn’t think I’d have it in me, but Stevie—and her proud dad—give me courage.
While I was working in the preserve this morning, up to my knees in muck, I couldn’t stop thinking about Stevie with her bare feet in the mud, tipping her freckled face to the sun. I can still hear her voice murmuring,This is my favorite thing in the world.
Well, she’smyfavorite thing in the world, and loving Stevie means I’m all in for all of her, including her harmless delusions.
It seems like every pair of eyes is on me as I take the open seat beside Stevie. I unzip my hoodie, pulling it off quickly, like I’m ripping off a Band-Aid.
There’s a delicate gasp across the table. Marlow’s hand covers her open mouth. Inger’s grin matches her husband’s, though she’s shaking her head in disbelief as she stares at my shirt. Muffie is rummaging in her big purse, oblivious to the room.
