The same one he’d given me whenever I worried that people disliked me.
“Please calm down,” he said.
I stepped away from him.
“Don’t.”
He looked startled.
I turned toward Grace.
“Does Katresa know about these gatherings?”
Grace hesitated.
“She came to one.”
My heart sank.
Of course.
Katresa.
The woman I’d thought was my first real friend here.
I walked past Lucas.
He followed me into the living room.
I found Katresa beside the snack table.
She was examining a bowl of orange-colored punch.
“Please tell me this doesn’t contain actual pumpkin,” she said.
Usually, I’d have laughed.
Instead, I asked her to come outside.
She saw my expression.
“What’s wrong?”
We stepped onto the porch.
I could barely get the words out.
“Why did you stop coming over on Fridays?”
Katresa blinked.
“What?”
“The coffee. You stopped coming.”
Her eyebrows drew together.
“I thought you wanted me to.”
I stared.
“Why would you think that?”
She looked genuinely confused.
“Lucas told me you were uncomfortable with me dropping by.”
My mouth fell open.
“He said that?”
“He said I was imposing. Apparently, you didn’t know how to tell me yourself.”
I felt something painful rise in my throat.
“I waited for you that Friday.”
Katresa’s face changed.
“What?”
“I made muffins. I thought you were coming.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Katresa looked away.
“I bought two coffees that morning.”
Her voice had lost its usual sharpness.
“I was sitting in my kitchen wondering what I’d done wrong.”
I covered my mouth.
She shook her head.
“I thought I’d pushed too hard.”
“Katresa, I loved those Fridays.”
“So did I.”
Her eyes were shining.
She looked embarrassed by it.
Then she muttered, “Don’t tell my cat. He already thinks I’m emotionally available.”
I laughed.
And cried.
At the same time.
Katresa took my hand.
“There were other times, too.”
I looked up.
“I even asked Lucas why you didn’t mind his little get-togethers but didn’t want me coming for coffee.”
“What did he say?”
“That you preferred keeping his friends separate from yours. I thought it was strange, but it wasn’t my marriage.”
She paused.
“I asked him if you wanted to come to the farmers market with me. He said you didn’t like crowds.”
I shook my head.
“I love farmers’ markets.”
“I know that now.”
“And when Lucas stopped answering my messages about you, I figured I should stop asking.”
My stomach dropped.
“What messages?”
Katresa reached for her phone.
She showed me two unanswered texts.
They were addressed to Lucas.
Both asking whether I wanted to join her.
“He told me your phone was having problems,” she said.
I remembered that week.
Lucas had told me Katresa was too busy to socialize.
I started trembling.
“He was doing it to both of us.”
Katresa stared toward the front door.
Then she said quietly, “That man has been speaking for you an awful lot.”
We went back inside together.
Lucas was standing near the couch.
Smiling.
Talking to a neighbor.
Acting as though nothing had happened.
I watched him for a moment.
Remembering.
The evenings I’d come home upset because another possible friendship hadn’t worked out.
The times I’d cried against his chest.
The way he’d stroked my hair.
“You’ve got me.”
Every.
Single.
Time.
I walked over.
“Lucas, we need to talk.”
He saw Katresa behind me.
His smile faded.
We went into the bedroom.
I closed the door.
“Why did you tell Katresa I didn’t want her coming over?”
He sighed.
“I was trying to avoid awkwardness.”
“For who?”
“She was constantly dropping by.”
“Once a week.”
“Exactly. You needed time to settle in.”
I stared at him.
“Who told you that?”
He didn’t answer.
“Did I ever complain about her?”
“No, but…”
“Did I ever ask you to cancel our coffees?”
He looked away.
“You’re making this much bigger than it was.”
I felt strangely calm.
“Then explain the other neighbors.”
“What other neighbors?”
“The ones you warned about me.”
He folded his arms.
“Grace is twisting things.”
“Did you tell people I was possessive?”
“Sometimes you get insecure.”
“Did you tell them I disliked visitors?”
He said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“Why?”
For a moment, he looked angry.
