Chapters (43)
- HUNTER SHEA
- For Tim Stanton.
- ‘Normality is a paved road. It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.’
- ‘How can I be substantial if I do not cast a shadow? I must have a dark side also if I am to be whole.’
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Afterword
- About this book
- FLAME TREE PRESS
Despite its incredible crassness, Andrew couldn’t help laughing. Nikki giggled between sips of wine. Ryker just shook his head.
“Wow. I didn’t see that coming,” Ryker said. “Though, being your husband, I should have known it would be disgusting.”
“You Americans are so sensitive. And people think it’s the Brits with a stick up our asses.” She nodded at the soda cans in front of them. “Plus, you’re lightweights.”
“Yes, but a wimpy American with a normal sense of humor stole your heart, now didn’t he?” Ryker said.
She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “I’m not the first thing you American gits have stolen from the greatest nation on earth.”
“And I’m not giving you back.”
Nikki got up and hustled into the kitchen, wineglass in hand. “Let me check on dinner. Should be ready soon.”
Pasta was boiling away, a pot of tomato sauce beside it. Nikki said she made an amazing spaghetti sauce. Andrew’s stomach rumbled. He’d skipped breakfast and lunch, his mind lost in worry. The smell of Nikki’s cooking had him ravenous.
He looked to Ryker, who was preoccupied with watching his wife stir the sauce, a small smile on his lips.
They were so happy, so alive.
He and Kate had been just like them what seemed a long, long time ago. Yes, they still loved each other very much. But were they happy? There were moments of happiness. It was hard to be cheerful when there was always something ready to piss in your picnic basket.
Watching Ryker and Nikki made him wistful, and Andrew was not prone to wistful thoughts. It made the weight of so many missed years that much heavier.
Anxious to derail his musings, Andrew blurted out, “What gets louder as it gets smaller?”
Nikki turned, one eyebrow arched. “No idea.”
“A baby in a trash compactor.”
Nikki spurted her wine onto the counter. Ryker even laughed.
“There’s hope for you yet,” Nikki said.
As she was wiping up the wine with a paper towel, she saw the small radio tucked next to the sugar bowl on the counter. “You think it’s okay if I find some tunes as long as I keep it low?”