Page 35 of Stay Away from Him

The morning of the dinner, when Melissa was eating breakfast, Thomas texted: Wear something nice tonight. After a second, he added Can’t wait to see you! and included some kissy-face emojis—but the first message was the one Melissa fixated on. What did nice mean?

She’d finished her work for the week, so she obsessed about it all day Friday while Bradley was at school.

After weeks on end of seeing each other almost every day, Thomas hadn’t come over at all that week.

Not since Monday, when he stopped by to suggest the dinner—and to talk about the idea of moving their relationship to the next level.

Since then, there’d been nothing but texts and a few brief phone calls.

He claimed he’d been extra busy at work, but Melissa was getting paranoid.

What if Thomas was changing his mind about her?

What if his daughters—or worse, Amelia—were reacting to the dinner by telling him he was moving too fast?

Saying negative things about Melissa, pouring them into Thomas’s ear?

Now this: Wear something nice tonight. She pored through her closet, thinking of all the people she’d have to look nice for tonight, the audiences she had to please.

She was afraid she was losing Thomas, so for him she wanted to wear something that blew him away, made him hungry for her again.

But for his daughters, and for Amelia, she couldn’t look too desperate, too slutty, couldn’t show too much skin.

Couldn’t look like the tart who was trying to steal their dad, their friend and ex, away from them.

After a few hours of laying outfits on the bed, trying things on, and studying herself in the full-length bedroom mirror, Melissa settled on a terra-cotta linen dress with a tasteful brown belt.

The dress went past her knees and wasn’t exactly sexy , but it made her feel pretty, at least, and the neckline, while not showing any cleavage, plunged toward her sternum just enough to pique Thomas’s imagination, remind him that she had a body under there—a body he, until recently, seemed to like.

After Melissa got Bradley from school, she dressed him in navy pants, a white shirt, suspenders, a snap-on bow tie.

He looked ridiculously cute and handsome in a little-boy way, even if that bow tie wasn’t going to last; two minutes after she got him in the outfit, he was tugging at his collar, his face turning red.

“Stop pulling at your clothes,” Melissa said. “You look great.”

A knock came from up the stairs. Lawrence. Melissa called for him to come down. His footsteps creaked down the stairs, then tapped down the hall. When he came into the bedroom, he took a look at her and whistled.

“Mel, you look gorgeous,” he said.

Melissa smiled, accepted the compliment.

“I was just coming down to say we’re heading over.”

“You don’t want to drive together?”

“I thought we should go separately,” Lawrence said. “In case you want to stay longer than we do after dinner.”

He gave Melissa a mischievous wink, and she rolled her eyes. Gorgeous or not, she didn’t think she was getting laid tonight. Not with the kids— all the kids—around. This evening was about something else.

***

Lawrence and Toby left while Melissa got Bradley strapped into the car.

They were the last to arrive. When she and her son came through the door, Lawrence and Toby were standing in the living room, talking to Amelia.

All three of them had a glass of white wine in their hand. Their eyes turned to her.

“The guest of honor,” Amelia said, and stepped toward her.

She came close, and before Melissa quite knew what was happening, Amelia was gripping her by the elbow with her free hand, kissing her on one cheek, then the other.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, then flashed what looked to be a genuine smile.

Melissa flushed hot with a feeling of awkwardness—Amelia was so fashionable with her European-style greetings, her effortless self-possession, and Melissa couldn’t help but feel foolish in her presence, even if she was being kind.

She also noticed that Amelia wasn’t troubled by her same hesitation to wear something sexy for this dinner.

She was in high-waisted gray slacks that swished loosely around her ankles but hugged the curves of her butt and hips, and a tight black top revealing the inner curve of her breasts, freckles dappling delicate, milky-white skin.

“You’ve been settling in well?” Amelia asked.

“Settling in?”

“Here in Minnesota. You’re still new here. It takes a while.”

“Oh,” Melissa said, “that. Yes, I’m fine. Thomas has been a big help.”

“I’m sure,” Amelia said, something knowing and just a little sharp behind her words. “And how about this handsome guy?”

She glanced down at Bradley, who was clinging to Melissa’s legs.

“Hi there. I’m Amelia. I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

Melissa was quiet a beat—they were friends now? Bradley didn’t say anything either, and after a few seconds of silence, Melissa answered for him.

“This is my son, Bradley,” she said. Then, quieter: “He’s a little shy sometimes.”

“I get it,” Amelia said. “I feel shy sometimes too.”

They passed into a moment when no one seemed quite sure what to say.

Melissa glanced from Amelia to Lawrence and Toby, who were usually gregarious, but they wore brittle smiles and had a look of panic in their eyes at the awkwardness of the moment—that moment in a conversation when small talk ends and it seems no one can think of what to say next.

Ultimately, it was Thomas who saved them all, breezing in with another glass of wine and a plate of something that smelled amazing.

“Melissa,” he said, taking her in, “you look beautiful.” He pressed the stem of the wineglass into her hand and gave her a short kiss on the lips—more than a peck, but only barely. Everyone else watched them, even Bradley, and Melissa felt a flush of heat all the way to the top of her scalp.

“What do you have there?” she asked, eager to get out of the moment.

“Grilled flatbreads,” Thomas said. “Thought I’d take advantage of the unusually warm weather.” He extended the plate and the grown-ups gathered round, peering at what he was offering. “Pear, chèvre, pink Himalayan sea salt, some fresh rosemary, and a light balsamic drizzle.”

“Ooh,” Toby said, the first to grab for a slice of flatbread. “Thomas is the best cook. You knew that, didn’t you, Melissa?”

She shook her head. “I had no idea. I’m learning new things about him every day.”

Thomas shrugged. “Second best, maybe,” he says. “Everyone knows you’re the best cook in the neighborhood, Toby.”

Thomas offered the plate to Melissa. She grabbed a piece and bit into it as Thomas watched. The perfect blend of flavors washed over her tongue: sweet and salt, herb and acid, a bit of char from the grill. “Wow,” she said. “You’re full of surprises.”

Thomas beamed. “Save some room. Cedar plank salmon for dinner.” Then he looked down at Bradley. “How ’bout it, bud? Want to try one of these? Fish later?”

Bradley made a face, and the adults in the room chuckled.

“We’ll figure something out,” Thomas said. “I probably have some chicken nuggets or mac and cheese around here somewhere.”

“You sure that’s okay?” Melissa asked.

“My girls were little once,” he said. “I know how to deal with picky eaters.” He turned to Bradley again. “The girls are around here somewhere. Want to go upstairs and see what Kendall and Rhiannon are up to?”

Bradley shook his head and pressed his face against Melissa’s leg, wrinkling the folds of her dress where it fell over her thigh. She tensed, trying to keep her balance as Bradley pushed too hard against her.

“Come on, bud,” she said. “You had fun with them the last time.”

But Bradley shook his head again. He wouldn’t even meet her eyes. “Sorry,” Melissa said, giving Thomas an apologetic look. “I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

Thomas assured her it was okay. Soon he breezed back to the kitchen and to his grill on the back deck, leaving Melissa with the others.

She sat and tried to enjoy her wine and appetizer, tried to participate in adult conversation—but she couldn’t get over her embarrassment at the way Bradley was still clinging to her.

Kids were weird, their reactions to situations unpredictable.

Last time they were here, Kendall was able to coax him away, but now she was nowhere to be found, and Bradley didn’t seem excited about the idea of going to find her. And Melissa wasn’t sure why.

She always struggled to know whether her son’s reactions to things were random, or if they had a cause she should have been digging into.

Sometimes, since starting kindergarten, Bradley would be hesitant to walk into school when she dropped him off in the morning, and each time she wondered—was he just having an off day?

Or was there something bad waiting for him in school?

Was he being bullied? Was a classmate being mean to him?

Sometimes her mind would go all the way to the worst, most paranoid possibility: What if he was being abused?

What if something truly terrible was happening in that building?

She knew these thoughts probably didn’t reflect the truth, but kids could be so bad at talking about what was really going on in their lives.

Bradley’s silence left so much room for Melissa’s imagination to dream up terrible explanations.