“Of course.” He leans over and squeezes my hand. “I just want to be a good friend. I still feel bad about what I said the other day. I had no right to interfere in your relationship.”
I study his face, searching out any hidden meaning in the words. Does he realize he’s still holding my hand? His skin is so hot. We’re so close. I could lean over and kiss him, which is a crazy thought and one I really shouldn’t be having. I shouldn’t even be on this couch with him.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Friends should be honest.” I hold his gaze.
“Yes, but I went too far. My timing sucked.” He releases my hand, takes a sip of his wine, and I wonder if he’s gathering courage to say more. What does he mean about his timing? He hesitates for another second, but then, as though he’s decided something, he gives his head a small shake and picks up the remote. “Should we watch the ball drop in New York?”
“Sounds good.” I focus on the merriment on TV, the noisy crowd, and the lively cohosts. If there had ever been a window into his thoughts, even a small one, he’d just slammed it shut.
When Sophie walks through the door a few minutes after one, she’s smiling, her cheeks red from the cold, and singing under her breath. Sophie never sings. Has she been drinking? Jared’s parents said it would be a dry party, but it wouldn’t surprise me if some of the kids snuck booze. I watch as she takes off her coat and boots. She isn’t stumbling or wobbly. She notices Marcus and me sitting in the living room and comes over to flop down in the other chair.
“Happy New Year,” I say. “How was the party?”
“Good.” She yawns, one of her hands reaching up to twirl a chunk of her hair, the violet hue catching the soft light in the living room. “How about yours?” Before I can answer she looks around, a confused expression on her face. “Where’s Angus?”
“I had to take him to the clinic.” There’s no way to soften this. I have to spit it out. “When I got home from work tonight, I found him in the house and he was really sick. I think Andrew threw meat over the fence with some sort of pills in it, but he’s going to be okay.”
She looks stunned, her hand still holding a chunk of her hair. “You sure it was him?”
“He’s the only person who’s angry at me. I hurt him, so now he has to hurt me.”
Her eyes are shiny now and I know she’s close to tears. “I think it’s my fault, Mom. He wanted me to come over today, but I ignored all his calls. That’s probably why he did it.”
“It’s not your fault,” Marcus says in a kind voice. “You didn’t create this.”
“He knows where we live because he followed me home from school one day. I never should have written him.…” Even though I’d suspected Andrew had been following the both of us, it still scares the crap out of me to hear it said aloud. I hate the thought of him stalking her.
“You just wanted a relationship with your father,” Marcus says. “The only crime here is that he screwed up the chance to get to know an amazing kid.”
Their eyes meet and he gives her a smile. “I mean, from what your mom has told me anyway. You could be a total pain in the ass, for all I know.”
She cracks a small smile, but then it falters and she looks at me. “He admitted he left the CD, but I was scared that if I told you, he’d be arrested and then he’d hate me. Are you mad?”
“Oh, honey. No. But I’m sorry he put you in that position. That was really unfair.”
She takes a breath and leans over and picks up one of Angus’s toys from the floor, squishes it a few times, letting the air out in a slow squeak. “Poor Angus.”
“You can come with me when I visit him tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Her phone vibrates and she glances down at the display. “It’s Jared checking to make sure I got home okay. Can I go to my room and call him?”
“Sure, baby. We can talk more in the morning.”
“Good night.” She gets up from the chair, then looks at Marcus. “I appreciate what you said.” He nods.
After she’s gone, I say, “Do you want to stay in the spare room? There might be a lot of idiots out on the road tonight.”
He glances at his wineglass. “That would probably be wise. If you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I should probably go to bed myself.” I feel shy, uncertain of how to handle this. I can’t count the times we’ve sat at the same table or beside each other, but sitting in the dark on this couch feels way more intimate.
I stand up. “I’m going to check the doors.”
“You need help?” He clicks off the TV.
“No, I’ve got it. Do you remember where the spare room is?”
“I think I can find it.” Now he stands up.
“Okay.” We’re two feet from each other. I think about giving him a hug but wonder where that would lead. Then I think about Greg. “Well, good night.” I spin around. When I’ve finished checking all the doors and windows, Marcus has disappeared into the spare room.