It was dark on the back porch, the twinkly lights under the eves drawing any flying bugs away as she sat.
“Of course. I was wondering what happened after you left Sam’s.”
“Well . . . in his defense, it wasn’t a fair fight.”
Melanie felt her smile freeze on her face. “You’re kidding.” Her heart leapt in her chest and started pounding to the beat of Metallica. “Oh, God, Wyatt . . . he’s a lawyer, please tell me—”
“Relax. I just followed him out of town.”
Melanie closed her eyes and tried to slow her anxiety down. “I’d hit you. If you were here, I’d hit you right now.”
Wyatt laughed.
“There wasn’t a fight?” She had to ask and clarify.
“No fight.”
She imagined the two of them side by side. It wouldn’t be a fair match.
“Did you just get home?”
“I went to Luke’s for a while, but yeah, about an hour ago.”
“The edge of town isn’t that far, Mr. Ripper. You sure there isn’t more to your story?” She hated to ask, but couldn’t help but want to know exactly what transpired between her ex and her new . . . was he her new? She thought of their kiss, the butterflies.
“I followed him to the airport.”
“Eugene?”
“That would be the one.”
“Jeez, Wyatt, that’s a long way.” Still, the relief of knowing Nathan had left town was a weight lifted.
“I didn’t want to miss him doubling back if he was bluffing.”
“And what exactly would you have done if he had?”
She recognized Wyatt’s soft laugh as one filled with mischief. “How is Hope? She doesn’t suspect anything, does she?”
“She’s fine. And you’re changing the subject.”
“How are you? You seemed upset when I left the diner.”
“I’ve had better days. Nathan is the last person I thought would show up on my doorstep. He’s just as infuriating now as he was when we were together.”
Wyatt took an audible breath over the phone. “Can I ask you something?”
“We are talking.”
“If he was infuriating, why did you stay with him?”
Melanie tucked her feet under her while she attempted to answer the question without appearing like a complete bitch. “He was charming in the beginning. I was just a kid and traversing the landscape of college, dating, my parents’ divorce. When it became apparent that I wasn’t going to be able to continue at the university, he was there. Not completely supportive, but there. If that makes any sense.”
“I think it does.”
“Then Hope came and I tried harder. He didn’t have an ounce of patience for his daughter, for me.” She shook her head, remembered him screaming at her to stop Hope’s crying. “Things eventually shifted and I felt safer on my own.” Those were dark days. Days she didn’t want to repeat.
“Safer?”
“What?”
“You said safer. Were you scared of him, Melanie?” His question came in an even, controlled voice.
She hesitated. He’d never been abusive with her . . . so why couldn’t she jump on a quick no for an answer?
“Melanie?”
“Sorry . . . no. Things were blurry in the end. I remember thinking how much he’d changed. How stress closed him off. It was unnerving.”
“Scary?”
“Yeah, I guess.” She shifted in her seat and switched the phone to her other ear. “I’m sorry. Talking about an ex is a classic mistake.”
He laughed. “Everyone in this town is talking about you and your ex, so cut yourself a break.”
She rested her head in her hand. “When I lived here before, all that talking would drive me crazy. Now it just feels like support.”
Wyatt started laughing. “Luke and I were betting that Brenda was going to dump coffee in his lap.”
And the look on Nathan’s face when Brenda walked away had been priceless.
“I’m going to change the subject,” he told her.
“You seem good at that,” she said with a chuckle. “Go for it.”
“They are setting up for a carnival and strawberry festival in Waterville next weekend.”
She waited for the question with a Cheshire cat grin on her face.
“Would you and Hope like to go?”
“With you?”
“That would be the general plan.” There was a slight edge to his voice, which made her grin wider.
“Like a date?”
“Is it a date when you bring a kid?”
“It’s not a date?” It was time for her voice to carry a sharp edge.
“We can call it a date if that makes you feel better.”
“I don’t have to call something a date to feel better . . . I just . . . what are you calling it?”
When he didn’t reply quickly, she unfolded from her chair and started to pace. “Wyatt?”
He huffed out a laugh. “A date.”
“You!” She pointed a finger in the air as if he could see her. “You did that on purpose.”
“I like pushing your buttons.”
“One of these days I’m going to figure out what your buttons are and pushing them will become my pastime.”
“Aw shucks, darlin’ . . . I’ve never been someone’s pastime before.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”