Better Off Alone

Chapter 14

(Sean's POV)

Hannah's hand finds my arm as I walk her to her door.

She digs through her purse for her keys. The porch light catches her face. She looks tired — not the fun kind of tired, the kind that settles in the bones. She's been like this since she lost her teaching position. Like the ground shifted and she hasn't found her footing.

"Thank you for today, Sean. I know it was last minute."

"It's fine."

She steps closer. Her hand moves from my arm to my chest. Her eyes lift to mine.

I turn my head. Her lips catch the edge of my jaw.

"Hannah. It's not appropriate."

She pulls back. Her face goes pink. "I'm sorry. I just — I thought—"

"It's okay. Get some rest."

She nods quickly. "You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

She disappears inside. The lock clicks. I stand on her porch for a second, hands in my pockets, looking at the closed door.

I don't know what to do with what just happened. I walk back to the car and drive home.

The house is quiet again. Nancy has Jack in bed already. I pour myself a glass of water and stand at the kitchen counter, image of Rebecca with that man resurfacing in my mind, when my phone rings.

Grandma Lisa.

"Sean, darling. I want you to bring Rebecca and Jack over for dinner tomorrow. It's been too long since I've seen that girl."

"Tomorrow?"

"Don't give me excuses. Seven o'clock. I'm making pot roast."

Lisa doesn't ask. Lisa informs. I learned a long time ago not to argue with her about dinner.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll bring them."

I hang up and call Rebecca.

She picks up on the fourth ring. There's noise in the background — music, a woman's voice. Connie's place, probably.

"Sean."

Not hi. Not hey. Nothing of her usual greeting.

"Lisa wants us for dinner tonight. Seven o'clock. I'll pick you up — where are you? Connie's?"

A pause. The background noise dims, like she's walked into another room.

"I'll drive myself."

"Rebecca, I can pick you up. It's not a problem."

"I said I'll drive myself."

Something about her voice makes me pull the phone away from my ear and look at it, like the screen might explain what just happened. Rebecca never turns down a ride. The old Rebecca would light up when I offer to pick her up. She'd be ready twenty minutes early, waiting by the window, wearing something she'd spent an hour choosing. She once told me that being picked up by me made her feel special.

Now she sounds annoyed.

"Fine," I say. "Seven o'clock. Don't be late."

She hangs up without saying goodbye.

I set the phone down. Staring at the water in my glass.

Something is wrong with Rebecca. I can't name what. But she's never behaved like this before.

I drink the water and go upstairs to change.

(Rebecca's POV)

Connie holds up two dresses. One black, one dark green.

"Green," she says. "The black one looks like you're going to a funeral."

"I might as well be."

Connie drops both dresses on the bed and looks at me. "Becca. You don't have to go."

"I know."

"You're divorcing the man. You don't owe his family dinner."

"I don't owe his family anything." I pick up the green dress and hold it against myself in the mirror. It's one of Connie's — slightly too long in the sleeves, slightly too tight in the waist. It'll work. "But Lisa has been the only person in that family who's ever treated me like a human being. Six years of Joanna looking at me like I'm the dirt under her shoe. Six years of Ivy's little comments, and Lisa is the only one who ever asked me how I was holding up."

Connie sits on the edge of the bed. Her legs crossed. Her lawyer face on.

"So this is — what? A farewell dinner?"

"You can put it that way."

"That's dramatic."

"It's the right way to end things."

I pull on the dress. Zip it up. Check the mirror. My hair is down. My face is bare — no makeup, no effort. The woman in the mirror looks tired but clean.

That about nails it. I'm done performing for others.

Connie watches me from the bed. "Will Sean start something? You know, since you gave him the divorce papers and all."

"He won't."

"How are you so sure?"

I meet her eyes in the mirror. "He has the papers. He's seen them. He hasn't brought it up yet, which means he has nothing to say. Hell, he might even be happy to finally be rid of me."

Connie opens her mouth. Closes it. Then she stands up and wraps her arms around me from behind, her chin on my shoulder.

"Call me if you need a getaway driver."

"I will."