I couldn’t stop staring at the disassembled pieces of the crib. Boone couldn’t seem to give them one fleeting glance. “You left everything else. Why not this too?”
I heard the ice cubes clink in the glass Boone was holding out for me from outside the door. “I don’t know. I guess I thought it would make a nice baby shower gift for someone one day or something. It’s not like it was ever used.” Boone’s tone took on a sharp edge, one that sliced right through me.
How one little thing could be responsible for undoing years of repression. How one inanimate object could make me feel like it had just been hardwired to my heart and then pressed the destruct button. How I’d gone so long without thinking about what had happened, how it had, what had happened as a result . . .
“I’m sorry, Boone,” I said, swiping at the tear that finally gave up hanging on and decided to let go.
“Sorry for what?” he said, shoving off the doorframe. “It’s not a crime to stick your head inside a room and look through a closet. No harm, no foul. Just forget about it.”
The sharpness in his voice that he was trying to veil with a dismissive tone kept cutting through me. “Boone—”
“Just forget about it, Clara,” he snapped. “I mean it.”
I shook my head, not sure I ever could, but if he needed me to pretend for his sake, I could do that. I owed him that after how I’d hurt him, despite how he’d hurt me back. His mistake wasn’t mine to atone for; mine was.
That was why I managed to look away from the object in the closet and close my eyes. “Okay, I’ll try.”
“Could you close the closet door please?” he asked, but from the sound of his voice, he was already halfway down the hallway.
I didn’t reply, nor did I do as he’d requested. Instead, I kept the doors open, the crib in view for when and if he ever chose to stick his head in this room again. I wasn’t sure why, but the crib affected Boone as much as it did me, and I didn’t doubt those reasons stemmed from what had happened in our past.
A person couldn’t just stuff something in a closet and close the door and pretend it was forgotten. It wasn’t that simple.
As I left the room, I left the door half open, the way I’d found it, and made my way down the hall, recomposing myself as best as I could in the span of a dozen footsteps.
When I found Boone, he was in the kitchen, leaning into the edge of the counter and chugging a glass of lemonade like he wasn’t really tasting it. The other glass was resting on the table, already beading with condensation on the sides.
“You’ve got a nice place,” I said, moving for the lemonade and trying to pretend that whatever had happened in that room was behind us. “Thanks for letting me see it.”
He nodded as he tipped the glass higher, drinking up the last drop of lemonade. He practically slammed the glass on the counter when he was done, before powering through the kitchen. “I just have to grab my bag and then we can get out of here. You ready?’
The sharp notes had been leeched from his voice, but he still sounded removed, distant even. His eyes wouldn’t come close to me.
“I’m ready,” I said softly. I lifted the glass of lemonade and took a drink though, like Boone, I didn’t really taste it either.
He disappeared into his bedroom again and was out in less than five seconds, the strap of a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder. He marched down the hall faster this time, heading for the door like he couldn’t get out of these four walls fast enough.
I took another long drink of my lemonade, rushed to the sink, and dumped out the rest before following him. I knew I wasn’t rushing because he was eager to leave the house—it was me.
I found him waiting at the door, holding it open with an expectant look. I moved by him quickly, almost afraid to say anything. It wasn’t until Boone had shut the door, locked it, and turned around to take a deep breath that his body started to relax. His expression followed last.
He was in the middle of taking in his second deep breath, and looked like he wanted to say something to me, when a phone rang.
I didn’t have my purse, so I knew it wasn’t mine, and I hadn’t heard or seen Boone on his phone yet these past few days. I was almost surprised when I saw him pull one out of his back pocket and check it. He sighed before answering.
“I was just about to call you and wish you a Happy Wednesday as well, Han—” He must have been cut off, because Boone stopped talking with his mouth still open. His expression didn’t really change. Whatever the caller on the other end was saying, none of it must have come as a surprise. “Yeah, okay.” Another sigh. “I’ll be right there.”
Boone didn’t say anything else before slipping the phone back into his pocket.