My Backwards Life by Cindi Myers

Author:Cindi Myers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

When I showed up for coffee with Myrtle after class the next day, I was surprised to see Josh there. He’d made himself scarce since our date. Maybe he figured our encounter at the hospital yesterday had broken the ice.

Whatever. I could certainly be civil to him. He was Myrtle’s friend and I wouldn’t ask him to leave.

“Hey, Grace,” he said, then went back to staring into his coffee.

I nodded to him, then turned to Myrtle. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. How is your little girl?”

“A little sore, but much better, thank you.” When I’d dropped Trudy off at school that morning, she’d been swallowed up by a crowd of well-wishers, eager to admire and sign her cast.

“I’m sorry I said your friend Mark was strange,” Myrtle said. “I realize now he was only upset.”

I laughed. “That’s okay. Mark is a little strange. He’s an artist.”

“My third husband was an artist. A sculptor.” She smiled. “That’s how we met. He hired me as a model.”

Was there anything she hadn’t tried? “Mark makes collages. Unusual collages.”

“Well, he seemed like a nice young man.”

“So he’s your ex-husband’s—what do they call it—partner?” Josh bit off a hunk of bagel and spoke around it.

“Yeah.” I fiddled with the lid on my coffee cup. “Mark and Gil have been together almost nine years.”

“That’s really interesting.” He chewed bagel and chased it with a swig of coffee. “I’ve been thinking it would make a really good subject for a paper for my sociology class.”

“What would make a good subject?” I set aside my cup, already getting the feeling I wasn’t going to like his answer.

“The gay family in America. I could interview you.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so.”

“But why not? I’d do a good job.”

“I’m not interested in being a research subject.”

His expression grew sullen. “I’d think you’d welcome the chance to tell your side of the story.”

“Tell it to whom?” I couldn’t keep the tension from my voice. “I don’t feel the need to defend myself to anybody.”

“Maybe there are other people in your situation who would be helped by what you have to say.”

I knotted my hands into fists. It was either that, or deck him. “This isn’t the freaking Oprah show. It’s a research paper. And I resent your trying to use our friendship that way.”

“Is that what you call it—friendship?” He stood and glared down at me. “Because I don’t know what to call it. Especially after you left me yesterday to ride off into the sunset with Hauser.”

“The man was doing me a favor. It would have been rude to refuse him when he’d gone to so much trouble.”

“I think he was hoping you’d do him a favor.”

I flushed. “And what difference would that make to you? You’re the one who can’t decide whether to maul me or shake my hand.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t know what you want—”

“My, this is certainly an interesting conversation, but are you sure you want everyone to hear it?”

Myrtle’s gentle voice cut through the haze of my anger.

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