Page 313 of Wild Card 13

We spentthe rest of Sunday at the lake.

It happened so easily that I almost did not trust it.

Lucy sent one quick text to confirm she had Dottie back. I grilled sandwiches because my culinary range was impressive and I needed to show off a little. Lucy changed back into my shirt after lunch because she said lake houses required soft clothes, and I pretended that sentence did not rewrite several things inside me.

Dottie slept in a patch of sun on the deck.

Lucy sat with her legs tucked under her on one end of the outdoor couch, her glasses on, reading Dottie’s pet resort report card aloud in a dramatic voice. “‘Dottie enjoyed gentle group play and showed leadership qualities during snack time.’”

“Leadership qualities?”

“She also ‘preferred individualized affection during rest period.’”

“She wanted someone to rub her tummy.”

Lucy laughed, and the sound drifted out over the water.

Later, she sat beside me on the dock with her bare feet over the edge, our shoulders touching. Neither of us said much. We did not need to. The quiet did not feel empty.

It felt like the kind of quiet that had been waiting for us to grow up enough to sit inside it.

Once, her hand found mine between us.

I did not ask what we were.

I did not ask if she would come back tomorrow.

I did not ask if the toothbrush mattered, or the shirt, or the fact that she had let me come with her to get Dottie.

I just kept the day.

One whole day with Lucy Thomas and no one taking score.

By Monday morning,real life had teeth again.

We drove separately to the arena because Lucy said it with a face that made arguing feel both unwise and deeply unattractive.

“We are not arriving together,” she said in my kitchen while tightening the lid on her travel mug.

I leaned against the counter. “Good morning to you too.”

“It is a practical rule.”

“Sure.”

“And you are not going to look at me like that at work.”

I widened my eyes. “Like what?”

“Like you have seen me without pants.”

I choked on my coffee.

“And no touching.”

I set my mug down. “At all?”

“At work.”