“I was…” What should she say? She was thinking about him. How could she explain herself? “I was…” Ugh! she thought. He got her so flustered that she couldn’t even get a lie right! She could be doing anything: picking up the toys, looking for an earring, getting the flashlight… But, when he looked at her, she couldn’t get a coherent string of words together.
“You were what?” he asked, his voice gentle, his face too close to hers. As she scrambled for an answer to his question, she heard that little huff of laughter, and, when she finally made eye contact, he was smiling at her. She felt woozy. Maybe it was the dark or the long day. She didn’t know. Suddenly, she couldn’t get anything to come out of her mouth. She was staring at him, to her horror. Say something! she scolded herself, but all she heard was silence. It was like that nightmare where she would scream and nothing would come out. All she could think about was how much she wanted him to be with his kids and to be with her, spend time with her. It was stupid. She wouldn’t have the first idea of what to do in a romantic situation. She’d have to buy a book on it before she could even react to any advances. But, even knowing all of that, she felt something that she couldn’t explain. Something that she’d never felt before.
“You’re not going to answer?” he asked, and she realized that she’d never responded to his question.
“I was thinking about you,” she answered honestly and then nearly fell over face-first once she realized she’d said it out loud.
He showed a look of surprise but hid it well, his eyes blinking just a little too much, giving him away. It was quick—barely recognizable except for the fact that she’d been so in tune to his expressions lately. He was probably used to hiding his emotions. In business he had to be on his game, pokerfaced. Even if someone threw him a curveball, he had to maintain composure—that was what made a good businessman, Carrie could imagine. She’d just thrown one of those curveballs. While the surprise was gone, it had been replaced by a crooked grin. It made her cheeks feel tingly, and she worried that the splotches were coming again.
She knew she’d have to explain herself, and she didn’t want to harp on the whole you-don’t-spend-time-with-your-family issue because she was almost sure that he’d heard enough of that today. But the alternative to telling him that was to tell him what she’d actually been thinking about just now—how he made her feel. She wouldn’t dare admit it; she knew how ridiculous it would sound having only just met him, but there was something there on her end, and she couldn’t explain why.
“I’m sure you’ve heard enough from everyone else,” she finally said. “I just wish you had more hours in the day.” She shifted to move away from him, their body heat under the blankets making her warm in her sweater. He shifted too as if getting comfortable, but it moved him closer to her and they were back where they’d started in proximity. Then it occurred to her: Why had he crawled into the fort anyway? “I’m in the fort because I was thinking. Why are you in the fort?” she said, glad that she’d mustered up enough courage to say something articulate.
“Mom said you weren’t at supper, and I was checking on you.” His voice was kind and quiet, the type of voice she imagined he’d have in the dark after everyone had gone to sleep and it was just the two of them. She knew better than to let herself think things like that, and the uneasiness from thinking it caused her to feel claustrophobic, the heat becoming too much, making her face feel like it was on fire. She pushed her way out from under the blankets, resisting the urge to gulp the cool air. Adam crawled out after her.
“So you were downstairs at supper?” It was forward of her to even inquire, but she couldn’t help it. She knew better by this point than to hope, but she did just the same.
“I wanted to make sure Sharon was okay,” he said. She could see the insecurity in his face when he said it.
“And was she?”
“No, she was upset.” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “She wants me to spend more time with my kids and less at work. She thinks I’m taking them for granted. I see them once a month and most holidays. I knew how much time my work would require when Gwen and I discussed custody. I can’t help it that my profession requires a lot of me. Sharon doesn’t realize that I’ve lost a lot, too. I’ve lost my wife, the life that I’d tried to build with her, and a huge amount of time with my kids. Don’t you think it makes me feel guilty?” his voice was almost pleading as if he wanted her to help him fix it. “Gwen broke my trust. She ran off with someone else, and I felt broken. Work made me stronger. It helped me to refocus. Do you know what it’s like to see my own children so infrequently that they barely respond when I enter a room? It feels terrible. I didn’t just lose Gwen; I lost them too. It breaks my heart to see them stand there and look at me the way they do. The brewery is my outlet. What am I supposed to do?” he asked, exasperated.