Even with other things to think about—like romantic dates and kisses under the fireworks—Paige’s mind kept returning to Mitch’s reaction to her showing up at the lodge.
She was getting pretty good at reading his expressions, and his expression when she got out of her car wasn’t a happy to see her look. It was a wondering what the hell she was doing there look. Then he proceeded to blow so hot and cold she felt as is she were going through menopause.
On the one hand, he’d committed to a real date. On the other, she’d seen his hesitation when she said she’d never been snowmobiling. It was the opening when most people would have offered to take her out for a ride, but that would have implied that, after he left, he might not call or text, but he’d come back and see her again.
And that’s what she needed to keep in mind—that when he said there would be no looking back, he meant it. And since she told herself she didn’t have a problem with that, she went into the Whitford General Store to pick up a few things. She was determined to cook something for dinner rather than reheating take-out from the diner.
Fran pounced on her before the bell had even stopped tinkling over her head. “Did Hailey call you yet?”
“I haven’t heard from her. Why?”
“We’re all heading to Mallory’s in a little bit. She’s leaving Drew, and after such a drawn-out process to get to this point, she wants it to be quick. We’re going to have a packing party, though I guess party’s a bad word for it.”
But Mitch was coming over and she’d made up her mind to make him dinner. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We all are, honey. But the sooner we get her packed up and out of the house, the sooner they can both start healing.”
She didn’t want to spend the evening separating his and hers into piles and then putting the hers into boxes. She’d told Mitch she’d make him dinner.
But she didn’t live her life around men anymore, she reminded herself. He was a temporary luxury, but her friends were a necessity and she wasn’t going to turn her back on one because Mitch Kowalski was willing to make time for her tonight.
“I’ll be there,” she told Fran. “Just tell me when.”
Three hours later, the Miller house was full of boxes and women and red plastic cups bearing Rose’s infamous margaritas. Mallory, pale and quiet, moved through the chaos, pointing out things that needed to be packed and showing them what would stay, which was most of it.
“My new apartment’s really small, so I can’t take a lot of it,” she said. “Plus, I think I’ll just start fresh.”
It broke Paige’s heart watching Mal pull her favorite coffee mug off the rack while leaving Drew’s, and sorting her books from his on the shelf in the living room. Maybe that’s why, when Rose stepped into the bathroom Paige was going through and handed her a drink, she took it.
“Only this one,” she warned. “I have to get up at four-thirty.”
Rosie nodded. “One might help take the edge off, though. Whether it’s because of divorce or because your husband passed away, boxing up the life you thought you’d have but didn’t to start a new one is sad business.”
“I really hoped they’d work it out.”
“We all did, but I’m not surprised it’s over. Two people who want different things in life on the most fundamental level don’t have much of a chance, especially if one of them hasn’t been honest about it. Surprised they made it this long, actually.”
Paige took a sip of the potent drink, then set the cup on the edge of the sink so she could continue sorting Mallory’s toiletries from Drew’s. “There are some goals and dreams you can’t compromise on, I guess. Children’s a big one. You either want them or you don’t.”
“Exactly. You can compromise on where you live and whether or not a wife will travel with her husband and all that stuff, but how you feel about family’s important.”
Maybe it was the first sip of liquor, but Paige had a sneaking suspicion Rosie wasn’t talking about the Millers anymore. “But for some people, where and how they live is as important as whether or not to have kids.”
“Can be. Or maybe the man fills the hole the woman thought she was filling with work or friends or a community.”
Paige kept her gaze on the drawer she was taking nail polish bottles out of, wanting to make sure she tempered her response to Rosie, who she adored and didn’t want to offend. Maybe it was a generational thing or just the older woman’s way of thinking, but that was the kind of attitude that set Paige’s teeth on edge.
A man would make it all better.
“Maybe,” she said quietly, “the woman doesn’t have a hole to fill. Maybe she’s on solid ground and she’ll wait for a man who’s happy to share it with her.”
“Some men need a little more space to run.”