"But…" I was still trying to make sense of it. "Surely you ate together?"
"Yeah, but she never ate much. I knew she wasn't a huge fan of meat, but an outright vegetarian? It was news to me. Now, don't get me wrong. It's not that I cared. But Ididcare that she hid it from me."
"Wow," I said for the second time. "You must've felt like you didn't know her at all."
"Gotthatright," he said.
"So did you ask her why?"
"Why she never told me?" He shrugged. "Sure."
"And what did she say?"
Bryce's mouth twisted into a pale imitation of a smile. "She said she didn't want to fight about it."
In a strange way, I could almost relate. "Do you want to hear something funny?"
"What's that?"
I leaned toward him. "I don’t like to fight either. I know that's probably hard to believe, but I honestly hate it, especially when I really care about someone." I paused to collect my thoughts. "But the thing is…sometimes youhaveto say something, you know?"
He gave me the ghost of a smile. "Lemme guess. Like with your roommates?"
I recalled our discussion from Monday. "Yeah, but I know you think I’m nuts."
"I never saidthat. I just said you might be worried for nothing. Did you get the picture of Tango's owner?"
I was obnoxiously pleased that he remembered – not only about the picture, but even the name of the cat. I smiled. "No. But you know what?"
"What?"
"I'm gonna send that follow-up text right now." But then I hesitated. "Unless you think that's rude of me to do it while you're here. I mean, if you want, I could wait until after you leave."
"Forgetthat," he said. "I'm curious to see this guy."
"Why?" I laughed. "So you can say 'I told you so.'?"
"Who knows?" he said. "Maybeyou'llbe saying it to me."
"Even better." I stood and snagged my cell phone off the charging station. And then, as Bryce watched, I tapped out a quick text to Aunt Celia, asking if she'd been able to locate a picture of Tango's owner.
As I set down the phone, I said to Bryce, "If I'm lucky, I'll have an answer by tonight."
Turns out, it didn't take nearly that long. Only ten minutes later, my phone dinged with a return text from my aunt. With my heart racing, I picked up the phone and took a look.
And then I frowned.
Bryce asked, "Is it the picture?"
I looked up from the screen. "Uh, yeah, actually."
"So, was it the same guy?"
Oh, boy.In reply, I turned the screen outward so Bryce could see the image for himself. As he studied the picture, I could still see it in my own mind.
It was an image of Aunt Celia at the golf course standing next to a gray-haired hunk of a man who bore a striking resembling to the younger blond guy who'd stopped by to see Gwen.
And now, Bryce was laughing.
