Something is happening between us, and even he can’t deny it. It’s not just the crazy physical attraction that we’ve always had for each other. There’s more, and it’s new. It wasn’t there when Thomas and I first had an affair three years ago.
I muse over it until I find a name for it. Friendship. Somehow Thomas and I have built the beginnings of a friendship. After sex, we don’t drift off to sleep. Not immediately anyway. We stay up and chat.
Then just yesterday, his sister Fran called me and asked if I wanted to go baby clothes shopping with her and I said yes. I invited Riley, but she and Leo drove out of town yesterday to visit his family.
Just a few weeks ago, my weekend would have stretched out before me with nothing to do but work. Now, it’s as if I’m a completely different person. My life has taken an about-turn, and my weekends are always packed with things to do.
I spot Adeline pacing my mother’s house as soon as I round the corner into her street. I worry that I’m late, but I can’t be as I left early and there was no traffic. It’s more likely that my sister is early. She’s a bit particular about time.
She comes to my car as I pull onto street parking in front of the house. “Do you know the owner of that car?” She points to a blue SUV parked behind my mother’s fiat.
It looks familiar. “I know that car,” I murmur as I search my memory bank. Then it comes to me. The answer is not going to please Adeline. “I’ve seen it at the gym.”
“What is he doing here? I told my mother that we were coming. Why would she invite him over?”
“Let’s go in.” I have a bad feeling about this intervention. I follow Adeline as she marches to the front door, noticing that she rings the bell instead of the way we usually just barge in.
Soft footsteps sound from inside before the door opens and Mom stands there grinning at us. “Both my daughters visiting at the same time! What a special Saturday morning. Come on in. We’re in the kitchen.”
Before we can comment about the ‘we’ part, she turns and enters the house. We follow her, and sure enough, Ian is perched on the stool, looking right at home and wearing a pair of shorts.
He turns to us with a huge smile on his face. “Hello, girls. Isn’t it a beautiful morning?”
We both murmur responses, thrown off at finding him in Mom’s kitchen, behaving as if it’s normal to find him there.
“You should see the work that Ian has done for me this morning in the garden,” Mom says, bringing coffee for us.
Relief surges through me. So, Ian didn’t spend the night, and he’s here to do the garden. Maybe he moonlights as a landscaper. I know very little about him because he’s fairly new. He attends the senior aerobics class, and he leaves immediately after.
“Is that what he’s doing here then? He’s your gardener?” my sister with her unfiltered tongue asks. I cringe at the obvious relief in her tone.
“Goodness no!” my mother says sliding onto an island stool next to him. “Ian’s just doing me a favor. A gardener indeed!” They exchange a look and burst out laughing.
The implication is that they are lovers, and I have no doubt that he spent the night. Mom is an adult, and she’s a widow. She is free to do as she pleases. Telling myself that doesn’t help. I’m fuming, my good mood forgotten.
I sip my coffee. It tastes bitter, and I push it away.
“We were hoping to speak to our mother privately,” Adeline says tightly.
“That’s okay. Ian is practically family now,” my mom gushes and bats her eyelashes at him in a way that makes me feel like covering my face in embarrassment.
Family? Is she crazy? She doesn’t even know him. I feel as if I’m caught in a bad soap opera.
“It’s okay, Caroline. I’ll go take that shower now,” Ian says and kisses her cheek before leaving the kitchen.
We wait until we hear his footsteps disappear up the stairs. Adrenaline dives in before I do. “Mother! You’re letting the gardener use your shower?”
In an instant, my mother’s face is pinched in anger. “What is wrong with you, Adeline? Ian is very special to me, and I will not have you disrespect him in my house.”
Silence descends in the room after that outburst. I look at my mother and then my sister. Both of them are wearing hard, angry expressions. I seem to be the only one with a clear head. I clear my throat.
“Mom, we don’t mean any harm, and we’re here because we love you.”
She narrows her eyes. So much for loving words. “What do you mean you’re here because you love me. I thought you were popping in for a visit.”