Talking about this only feels possible because Teddy is such a good listener. It’s what I’ve always liked best about him. His expression is always changing as I speak. His face softens with sympathy or pinches with concern, his eyes flaring with surprise or loyal outrage hardening his brow. The way he listens to me makes it feel possible to talk about the moment where I lost my confidence and my faith.

“I took the money up to his office. I was talking to Adam as I put it in the bottom drawer of Dad’s desk. The money got stolen early that evening, probably when we were all eating leftovers from the barbecue.”

Teddy’s looking grim. “What did the police say?”

“My parents didn’t call them. It was too humiliating for them to admit it to everyone that the huge fund raiser had been for nothing because their daughter didn’t lock the door. There was no forced entry.”

“Ruthie,” Teddy says with such sympathy.

“My dad was so angry. He said I was too caught up in myself and a boy to do the one thing he’d asked me to. Ten thousand dollars. Gone.”

“The only person who’s at fault is the person who stole that money.”

“So the last bad thing to happen was that my parents used what little there was in my college fund to cover the amount that was stolen. They talked for a long time and considered covering it up completely. But it wasn’t enough of a lesson. Dad made me stand up in front of everyone on Sunday and explain my carelessness. And I was giving up my dream of becoming a vet to make it right.”

“That’s complete bullshit.” Teddy is lit with anger. He looks like a devil, kneeling at my feet.

I’m taken aback by how infuriated he is. “Why are you mad? I deserved it.”

“They should have stood up for you. If you said you locked the door, you did it.”

“But I didn’t. I just can’t remember. It’s the black spot in my memory. And I swore to myself that I’d never feel that way again. From that point on, I’ve used checklists and routine to manage myself. I was hoping you and Melanie hadn’t noticed.”

“And what about Adam? Did he stand up for you?” Teddy’s eyes narrow when I look away. “Your mom? Surely she believed you?” He falls silent. “You could have been a vet, but instead all your college money was spent on a hurricane. I can’t believe how much of yourself you’ve had to give over the years.”

“I wasn’t delusional; I didn’t think I’d actually be a vet one day, but maybe a vet nurse? Once the savings account went to zero, we all knew it wasn’t going to happen for me. What the actual worst part was, my dad could find forgiveness for anyone in that congregation, but not for me. He lost faith in me, and I lost my faith in God.”

Teddy leans back from me to see my face better.

“I think I have to go punch a hole in a fence or something. Ruthie, I’m going to tell you something, and you need to believe me, okay? Are you ready?” I nod. “What happened to you was shitty and I’m sorry. And I want you to know that it’s time to let it go.” He considers my face and decides to take a risk. “I’ve got a therapist I see sometimes. I could give you her details.”

I have a cleaned-out cathartic feeling in my chest. I wipe my eyes. “Is that why you’re such a good listener?”

“Am I?” He’s similarly flustered. “I didn’t think I was.”

“You are the best listener I’ve ever known.” I drag my fingertips through another section of his hair, admiring the glassy shine my shampoo has bestowed. “I’ve thought sometimes I should see someone about my mental health. What do you see a therapist for?”

“How to cope with having hair this good.” He gets to his feet and helps me up. “Reset the alarm. I’ll lock the door.” We do that, and it’s only when we’re walking up the hill that I realize that we’re holding hands, and he completely sidestepped my serious question with a silly reply.

“Can we talk about what you go to a therapist for?”

Teddy sidesteps a tortoise this time. “I want you to know that I’ll always take your side. Even when I’m in Fairchild, you just call me, okay?” He’s making his voice cheerful and it’s making me feel worse. He’s just taken me apart completely and learned the worst moment of my life. And he won’t give me anything back. But I can’t make him.

“I wish you trusted me like I trust you.”

“I’m not a guy you should trust. I thought Brianna just explained that.”

I trail him into our courtyard. In the dark, the Dream Girl sits, where he’s taken her apart, too. “Could I go for a ride on her before you leave? How are you taking two bikes with you, anyway?”

“I’ll definitely take you for a ride. I promise.” He uses my keys and unlocks my door, puts me on the couch, and switches on lamps. Now he’s in the kitchen like it’s his, taking my favorite mug out of the cabinet. “Hmm. Sleepy Time Tea or hot chocolate?” He looks over at me. “What are you waiting for? It’s time for Heaven Sent.”

As he adjusts the crooked pillow behind my back, then hands me a steaming mug, I think that this is surely what it must feel like to be adored.

“I’m sorry I stole your shampoo,” he says as he presses play on the episode. “I don’t suppose I could have a spare key? I really want to have a bath in your tub with all the candles lit. It’s something I want to do before I go.”

After all I’ve shared tonight, this request seems like a tiny thing. “Sure thing.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“All we need is a stunning photo and we’re ready to go live on your dating profile,” Melanie tells me. “Here, put this on. And this, this, this.” She tosses random cosmetics at my head from across the office. “This, this, this.”

I lower my arms when it’s safe. “You’re forgetting. We don’t do this in work hours.” I get up from my chair to collect the makeup, but I’m so stiff I have to stay bent over. “Oh, my back.” My computer glasses swing on their chain and whack me in the face.

“You old granny,” Mel says with affection. “If you’re not careful I’ll load a pic of your bum, bent over just like that. You’d get plenty of messages from weirdos.”

“I will kill”— I get down to ground level and pick up a lipstick— “you”— a blush— “Melanie Sasaki.” Highlighter. Eyelash curler. She even threw a makeup brush. I straighten up with difficulty. “I swear, I feel it in my joints when a storm is coming through.”

“You are aging rapidly by the day. By week six I’ll be dyeing your white hair back to brown. I’ve got to get you out of here before I go.” She takes a long swig of the massive bottle of pale green juice on her desk. I already know from her earlier swigs that it tastes like celery had diarrhea. It’s Wednesday and day three of Mel’s cleanse. I’m desperate for her resolve to break. But even as she complains and overshares, I’ve been laughing.

I once thought I wouldn’t last in the same room with her until lunchtime without screaming, but now time’s passing too quickly. “Your end date is a month away now. So soon.”

“The temp agency is already sending me through new roles to look at. They think I’ll say yes to anything. I usually do, but I’m tired. I hope we think of my dream job before then.”

I ask the following, even though I know what the answer will be. “Would you consider working for the Parlonis?”

She gives me a Look. “Wow, you really despise me, huh. Do you know what they made Teddy do yesterday at lunchtime? They got McDonald’s and he had to plate it up like a five-star restaurant.” She searches in her phone. “Look at this nonsense.”

He’s cut the Big Macs into tiny wedges. They’re laid down sideways beside a Jenga-style stack of fries, a nugget, and an artistic squiggle of Sweet and Sour Sauce. I can’t exactly tell Mel that I have already seen this photo, while Teddy was lying on my couch with his head on a cushion. A cushion that was on my lap.

Since my false-alarm meltdown last Friday, Teddy has stopped trying to keep himself out of my cottage. There’s been no threshold-lingering; instead, he’s been soaking up my hospitality and I mean that literally. He’s been soaking in my bathtub, singing “Wonderwall” through the unlocked door. Melanie would have a nosebleed if she knew. I really don’t know how it’s happened, so I wouldn’t be able to explain it.

He hasn’t made me feel like shit for my meltdown, and he’s come with me on each nightly security round. He washes the dishes and he knows every single subplot and backstory of Heaven Sent. It feels like Teddy’s been sent to me. I know that thinking like that won’t help.

I steer us back to work.

“As one of your last projects, I was hoping for your help planning the Christmas party. I was thinking of doing a vintage prom theme this year. Imagine all the ladies in pretty dresses.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Melanie enthuses. “Parties are kind of my thing. I love organizing. I love inviting people, I love seeing them have a good time. I live for that.” Out comes her notebook and she begins scribbling. “Food. Decorations. Playlist. Invites. Food. What I’m going to wear. Oh my God, I can do my hair in a beehive. Eyeliner. Food.”

She pretends to chew her next mouthful of juice before swallowing.