“Then why weren’t they exclusive?” I ask. I’ve always wondered, but never asked. Historically, I’ve shied away from talking about my uncle. It always brought too much self-hatred, but as I sit here now, I feel none of that. It’s . . . odd. Odd but nice.

“Your uncle knew if he wanted to keep her, he had to bend. Besides, he couldn’t have let go of his old ways even if he’d wanted to.”

“So he continued to spread the love.”

“But it was always Sarah in his bed at the end of the day.” His head lowers. “If you love someone, you bend.”

I’m bending so much, I’m becoming a yoga pro. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying don’t crowd her. You’ll push her away if you’re too needy.”

“I am needy,” I mumble. I never knew it, but I am. And I don’t mind so long as Ava feeds my neediness.

“And talking of need, you need to tell her.”

“John,” I say, getting up from my chair and starting to pace, “in the hopes of making you understand my predicament, I’m going to tell you a few secrets.”

He laughs, and for once I don’t appreciate the deep, rumbling sound. “What are they?”

“I’m scared,” I say seriously, and his face straightens in a nanosecond, back to the usual impassive, scary expression. “She has run from me more than once with no justifiable reason.” I approach him and crouch down by his chair. “So if she can walk away from me with no good cause, why the fuck would I offer up plenty of valid, good reasons for her to turn her back on me?”

“You’re living a lie,” he says quietly. “And it will eventually bite you on the arse and sting like a motherfucker.”

“I will tell her,” I assure him. “Just as soon as I know she won’t run.”

He points to the desk where the pad is. “What, like after you’ve put a ring on her finger?”

I don’t tell him I’m actually considering it. That would confirm the kind of crazy I am these days. “I’m not completely loo-la.” Not at all, Ward. Stealing her pills last night was a dream, huh?

He sighs and blindly points at the computer. “Since you’re here, I need you to look at that.”

I’ll take his intention to change the subject as acceptance. Good. Hopefully now he’ll stop nagging me. “What is it?”

“Proposed financials for the next year. We’ve soaked up the price hikes for the past few years. Time to increase membership fees.”

I settle back at my desk and get to it, John joining me and walking me through his proposals. It all looks good, and a while later, my eyes are crossed with all the numbers on my screen. “Are we done?’ I ask, getting irritable.