But I already knew that by 7:29, he’d be getting ready to leave.
WHILE RICHARD AND MOM TALKED IN THE LIVING ROOM, CHLOE CAUGHT MY EYE FROM ACROSS THE KITCHEN.
She tapped her wrist, silently mouthed seven-three-zero, then lifted one eyebrow.
I turned back toward the stove and stirred gravy that didn’t need stirring.
Somewhere inside me, the doubt had begun tightening into a knot.
The next Sunday, I watched Richard more closely.
He was carving the roast beautifully while repeatedly glancing at his watch.
“Big plans tonight, Richard?” I asked, passing him the potatoes.
“Oh, nothing exciting. I’ve got a client in Singapore, believe it or not. Eight o’clock call.”
Chloe’s fork froze halfway to her mouth.
“Singapore? On a Sunday?”
“Markets never sleep, kiddo.”
“Cool,” she said. “Neither do plumbers, apparently.”
I nearly choked.
Two weeks earlier, Richard had rushed away because, according to him, a plumber was coming to his house at 9 p.m.
Even Mom had looked confused about that one.
Richard laughed, but something around his eyes tightened.
The next Sunday, his leather tote was already beneath his arm by 7:25.
This week’s reason was his neighbor.
“Mr. Mendez can’t get his blood pressure pills open. Arthritis. I told him I’d swing by.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” Mom said warmly.
“So sweet,” I echoed.
Chloe kicked me beneath the table.
Five minutes later, Richard was gone.
Same time.
Same tote beneath his arm.
Every Sunday.
Exactly like clockwork.
After we finished washing the dishes, I cornered Mom at the sink.
“Mom, can I ask you something without you getting mad?”
“That’s usually a great start, Avery.”
“Six months you’ve been dating this man. Have you been inside his house? Even once? Have you seen his kitchen? His couch? His mailbox?”
She turned the faucet higher.
“He’s private.”
“He’s evasive.”
“There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Because Chloe says twice now she’s watched him turn south after dinner, and he supposedly lives 20 minutes north.”
Mom’s shoulders stiffened.
She set a plate down with a sharper clink than necessary.
“I trust him, Avery.”
“Mom, I want to trust him too. I want that for you. But a grown man with no wife, no kids, no roommate, and no reason to be anywhere at 7:30 p.m. on a Sunday…”
“Maybe he has reasons I don’t need to know yet.” “That’s exactly the problem.”
She finally turned to face me.
Underneath her defensiveness, I saw something else.
She had noticed it too.
She simply didn’t want to acknowledge it.
