Finding Joy: The Joy Series, #2

By Jenni Moen

Love is patient.

It can happen when you least expect it,

where you least expect it,

with whom you least expect it.

Love is kind.

But love may not grow out of kindness.

It can happen with the person who hates you most

becaue love knows no bounds.

And it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love doesn't hold a grudge.

Love forgives.

Love forgets.

But when the healing of your heart

breaks the hearts of the ones you love,

it may seem impossible to find joy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Twisted Hearts Publsihing
• Release date: Dec 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497773578

Jenni Moen

Jenni Moen lives in her hometown in Oklahoma with her husband and three, crazy exuberant kids that have the potential to burn down the house at any moment.  When she's not chauffeuring kids, performing her mom duties as a short order cook, or vacuuming for her fastidious husband, she hammers away at her keyboard at her big girl job as a patent attorney.  While vodka and excercise have provided some relief from the daily grind, it is reading ... and now writing ... that are her true escapes.

Book preview

Prologue

The things two people do to each other they remember. If they stay together, it’s not because they forget; it’s because they forgive. - Indecent Proposal (1993)

Forgive and forget.

Easier said than done.

And what if you don’t want to forget? What if you can’t?

Because forgetting the bad stuff might mean forgetting all the good that came before it.

That was the conundrum that I’d gotten myself into.

I loved Allie. No question. She’d walked into my life, turned it upside down, ripped my insides out, and then ... by some miracle that I still didn’t understand ... put me back together again. I was like fucking Humpty Dumpty.

The love of a woman is a powerful thing. It’s healing, and I’d needed some healing. I hadn’t even realized how much until she’d worked her magic on me.

The problem was that she needed healing, too. Only two months had passed since she’d learned the truth about Joy. And let’s face it: the truth had been a hard pill to swallow. How does one come to terms with taking another life? What if the life was a tiny one that had just barely begun? And what do you do when you fall in love with someone who valued that little life more than their own?

If you’re Allie, you bury it. I didn’t blame her though. That’s what people like us do. We could bury our shit so deep, no one could ever find it.

Hell, Allie had buried hers so deep it had been lost for more than a decade. I was sure it would still be hidden if I hadn’t come along.

Unfortunately, things can’t stay buried forever, and I could feel the storm brewing. Everything we’d been avoiding was going to come to a head. It would happen soon, and I had a feeling it was going to be a real shit storm. But, it was my mission to make sure Allie made it through the storm.

No. It was my mission we make it through together.

Part I

Chapter 1

Adam

I should’ve been studying the textbook in my lap, but I was studying her instead.

She sat sideways in the chair, her lean legs kicked up over the arm. The file on her lap was full of documents in need of review. However, they would have to wait because it was the e-reader propped on top of the file getting all of her attention.

She pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and swiped her way to the next page. A faint smile played across her full lips, and I wondered what she was reading. With Allie you never knew. Her tastes varied with her moods. She could be reading a classic. Or she could be reading a trashy romance novel. Each was equally likely. The smirk on her face and gleam in her eye led me to believe today was a day for smut. I couldn’t understand why she would want to read that shit. If she wanted smut, I could give her smut. All she had to do was ask. Or maybe just look at me. The corner of her mouth twitched up as if she was fighting a smile, and my mind returned from the gutter.

I loved her like this … still in the pajamas she’d slept in. A drizzle of syrup stained the front of her tank top. Her usually sleek blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail that emphasized her makeup-free face. In the past month, we’d had lots of quiet mornings like this … me pretending to study … her lost in a world of make-believe.

This was the reason I moved in with her. That and the fact I couldn’t live without her.

---

Alexis

I could feel his eyes on me. He thought he was so sneaky, peering at me over his book. But I knew he wasn’t studying. He was worrying, and he was trying to do enough of it for the both of us.

I was tired of running from the past. My head wasn’t stuck in the sand any more. Sure, we had some issues to deal with, but Adam was my future. For the first time in years, I felt optimistic. We needed to face our problems head on and, possibly, at a dead run.

Today seemed like as good a day as any to get started.

I made us an appointment with a realtor.

Adam’s eyes snapped to mine. Allie, he groaned. We’ve talked about this. We don’t need any more change. He said it definitively, like the conversation was over before it had begun.

I wasn’t one to be easily deterred. As an attorney, I was trained to argue. But that’s just it. We do, Adam. We need change. We need to keep moving forward. This place isn’t big enough for us, and your place is out of the question. Besides, at the very least, we need to put yours on the market. And if we are leaving the city, we need to sell them both.

We aren’t leaving Manhattan. Your job is here, he said, leaning forward and tossing his book onto the coffee table. It landed with a loud thud, and Rubber Cat jumped near Adam’s feet. My beloved cat directed an annoyed glare in Adam’s general direction.

"That is not a foregone conclusion. I can do what I do anywhere. You can’t. When we met, you had plans of your own. You said you were going to move to California after you graduate. That’s only two months from now. We need to get a move on."

"There is plenty for me to do here. And your office is here. Hell, your name is on the door. You can’t just walk away from it all. And you know he won’t let you anyway." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if the mere mention of my father had given him a headache.

Adam’s heart was in the right place, but he was starting to piss me off a little. I wasn’t the fragile creature he took me for. He thought that the least little change was going to break me. That any disturbance to the peaceful life he was trying to create for us would push me over the edge. He was wrong. I’d been through hell and back in the past few months. I knew now I could make it through anything. I was finished letting everyone else decide what was best for me.

However, I wasn’t looking for a fight this morning. I buried my anger and changed my tactics. I swung my feet down onto the floor and pulled myself out of the chair. I walked over to Adam and sat down on his lap. My hands snaked around his neck and found their way into his hair, and I nuzzled my face into his t-shirt. I loved every last one of his t-shirts, and I could get lost in their scent. I could … if I didn’t need to keep my focus and get some business done.

"That’s not my name on the door, and you know it. It would be good for me to walk away from it all. I need to prove I can make it on my own … that I don’t need him to protect me anymore. I have you now. You’re the only protector I need."

He melted under me. Well, at least you’re speaking my language now, he said, running his hand up and down my back. When are we meeting with this realtor?

Today at one, I said quietly, and then waited for his reaction.

The back rub stopped. Geez, Allie. You could have given me a little warning.

I thought the sneak attack might be better, I said into his shirt. He’s only showing us two places. It will only take a couple of hours, and then we can spend the rest of the day doing whatever you want.

Wait. I’m so confused, he said. Are we putting one or two apartments up for sale? Or are we looking for a new one? I thought you just said we should move to California?

I think we should definitely talk about California. I really think it might be the best thing for us. A new start. But if we stay here, we need something bigger. Besides, looking will be fun.

Yeah, right, he said reluctantly. Fun. I swear you women shop just to shop. You will shop for anything. Because it’s fun, he said mockingly, shaking his head. But the back rub started up again so I knew he wasn’t upset with me. Not yet anyway.

There’s one more thing, I started, but then paused, because there was a high probability this was going to get ugly.

Yeah? he asked. Rub. Rub.

The realtor. Uh, it’s Ethan’s friend, Jay. The rubbing stopped again as Adam stood up, ejecting me from my comfortable seat. My feet hit the floor, and I caught myself right before I landed in a heap next to Rubber Cat. The cat, whose reflexes were better than mine, had jumped out of the way, but moved back in to come to my rescue.

Are you kidding me? Adam said incredulously as the cat hissed at him. His eyes were ablaze now, dark and menacing. Though I hadn’t seen it in a while, I knew the look well. The douche you dated while we were apart? His raised voice incited my protector cat, who went on the offensive and bit him on the calf.

Damn it! he said, rubbing his leg. He scooped up the cat and thrust him at me. Can I please get a break here?

I laughed even though Adam wasn’t able to appreciate the humor in the situation. I couldn’t help myself though. I had the best cat. Ever. Bad kitty, I cooed while scratching his head.

I looked at my now very jealous boyfriend and sat on the chair I’d been so rudely tossed out of. "I didn’t date him. He agreed to go with me to one party. It was more of a favor than anything else. Besides, I think he might be gay."

Adam barked out a laugh. He’s not gay. I saw the way he looked at you in that dress. A gay man would not have looked at you like he wanted to eat you. He shook his head vehemently. And now I have to spend the whole afternoon with him. Shopping. For an apartment we don’t even need because this one is fine. And it will take every ounce of self-control I have not to smash his pretty face in when he looks at you like you are a bucket of KFC.

I couldn’t control myself any longer. I burst into a fit of giggles and wiped at the corners of my eyes. A bucket of KFC? No one has ever compared me to a bucket of chicken. Is that supposed to be a compliment? Am I a leg or a thigh?

Yes, a bucket of KFC. He clearly likes his food fried. Chicken on the bone is probably his favorite food. You, my love, are original, spicy, and delicious, and I’m betting he’s a breast man.

Not everyone has your metabolism or discipline, I said, snorting. And it might not be the chicken. It might be the beer. He does hang out with Ethan.

Whatever. Are you serious? We are spending the afternoon looking at apartments with ungay Jay?

Yes, I said, with less enthusiasm than before. And, please, be nice, Adam. Last time he saw you, I’m pretty sure he thought you were going to pound his face into the pavement. He doesn’t really do this side of the real estate thing any more. He’s only doing it as a favor to me.

"Fine. If it’s what you want, I’ll go look at apartments. With Jay. But I don’t like him doing favors for you."

Good, I said, clapping my hands together. And you’ll be nice?

I’ll be nice, he said winking at me. But I have big plans for you later. Big plans. Did you mean it? We can really spend the rest of the day doing whatever I want?

Anything, I said resolutely. So what do you have in mind?

No way. It’s a surprise, he said, turning toward the bedroom.

Where are you going? I asked.

To get my shoes. I need to go for a run before we meet your ex-boyfriend.

He was never my boyfriend, I sang to his retreating back. Love you!

Sure you do, he said as he disappeared into our bedroom.

But, of course, I really did, and I had no doubt he knew it, too.

---

_________________________

---

So how were the apartments? Will either of them work? Carly asked. She nodded her head as if to answer her own question, and her chestnut hair bobbed in excitement. That was Carly. She was a bundle of enthusiasm, wrapped in a pretty, petite package.

I don’t know, I said quietly, glancing at the other end of the table where Adam was sitting with Carly’s lesser half. His head was cocked toward Burke, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t tuned in to what was being said down here.

Over the past six months, Carly had quickly become my best girl friend. If I was being honest, she was probably my only real girl friend. I’d had plenty of casual friends in college and law school and even had a few at the office, but, aside from Ethan and Adam, I hadn’t let anyone get close to me since high school. When every one of your friends abandons you – when every one you’ve ever loved and relied upon walks away in a mass exodus, leaving you all alone to deal with a broken body and a broken spirit, it’s pretty easy to give up on people in general. And that’s exactly what I had done.

Until Ethan. And then Adam. And now Carly. And it all worked out nicely since Carly had been dating Adam’s best friend for a tumultuous eternity.

Ethan had charmed his way into my heart during undergrad. I’d let him in because he was persistent and seemed harmless enough … and also because a person can only stand being so lonely. Everyone needs at least one friend. The fact that Ethan was also really easy on the eyes might have gotten him a few brownie points as well. He might have had something else in mind in the beginning, but when all advances had been consistently rebuffed, he had settled on a platonic friendship. Mostly.

I think one of them was perfect, but we haven’t really talked about it yet. And first we need to decide if we are going to stay here.

She put up her hand in the universal language for ‘stop.’ I can’t talk about it. Tell me about the apartment. Did it have two bedrooms? Would you have room for an office? she whispered, picking up on my desire to keep this conversation between us.

Again, I looked nervously toward Adam at the other end of the table.

We were having dinner at a greasy spoon that was a late-night favorite of the boys. It was part one of ‘doing whatever Adam wanted’ in exchange for apartment hunting. This unhealthy choice in dining indicated he was throwing caution to the wind tonight, and his reckless attitude had me a little fearful of what part two of the night might entail.

Our appearance at the diner tonight was much earlier than normal, and the clientele was different than whom we were used to seeing. At 3 a.m., it attracted loud, slurring club-goers in dire need of a sobering grease fix before calling it a night. Seven hours before, the crowd was an eclectic mix of older couples and families.

Burke still had most of his attention though his eyes kept wandering over to the table next to us where a family of four sat. A preschooler had ketchup smeared across her face and, in what appeared to be a ploy for her parents’ attention, was shouting the alphabet at the top of her lungs. Her crying baby brother was throwing bits of french fries on the floor. The mother wore a harried expression as she fluttered back and forth between the two. All the while, the father paid no attention to any of them and instead looked longingly at our table. Even though we outnumbered them two to one, their table was louder.

Yeah, I finally answered Carly. It had two bedrooms, and there was an extra area off the living room, which would be perfect for a desk.

This time when I looked at Adam, his velvety chocolate eyes were on me. One eyebrow was cocked up at me in question. He held my gaze for what felt like an eternity before he finally started to chew again.

Or a foosball table, he said, swallowing. "If we’re not going to use the second bedroom as an office, what do we need it for?" His eyes darkened and pressed at me, urging me to answer the question. I felt the pull to answer honestly. We had agreed, ‘No more lies.’ ‘No more secrets.’ ‘Honesty above all else.’ However, now wasn’t the time or the place for brutal truth.

The unhappy baby next to us chose that unfortunate moment to scream at the top of his lungs. His bellowing cry rang out across the restaurant and distracted Adam. Damn babies, he said, shaking his head while staring at the screaming child like it might be possessed.

I looked down at the burger on my plate and suddenly felt sick. I didn’t know if the sobbing child was a distraction or a cry of truth. After all, I had plans for the second bedroom, and a baby was exactly what I wanted to put in it. I was just having trouble finding a way to tell Adam. The reason it was difficult for me was no mystery. He’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t want children … by me or anyone else. However, I knew in my heart he would be a great father. He’d already had the best training you could get and that was the crux of the problem.

Or a foosball table, I said, nodding slowly. What was I thinking?

I dunno. Maybe you should tell me what you’re thinking, he said. His gaze turned from the baby to me and bored into me. Are we taking in a roommate?

The question seemed innocent on its face, but felt loaded instead. Was it possible he knew what I had in mind? If so, how? I hadn’t brought it up, and Lizzie had never mentioned it when he was around. Was I that transparent? Maybe that’s what happened when you opened yourself up and allowed someone to truly love you. Maybe they became privy to all of your innermost thoughts.

The tension caused by Adam’s tractor-beam gaze – and my sudden belief that it wasn’t merely my face he was studying, but instead my soul – was almost unbearable. I looked around the table, sure our friends could feel the tension, too.

I bet it was awesome, Carly said quickly, changing the subject for me. She was a savior. I wish I had your budget. Of course, if I’d gotten off my ass and done something with my life, maybe I would.

Hey, our place is nice, Jillian chimed in. It has an elevator and minimal pests. Jillian had become an almost-friend because of her status as Carly’s sister.

Riiiiight, Carly strung out. The elevator worked for one day last month, and it wasn’t even a day when I went grocery shopping. We sleep in damn bunk beds, Jillian. Whether I’m watching TV from my bed or the couch, it’s the same latitude and longitude.

Yeah, well, the dining room is under my bed. It’s not like you really sleep there all that much anyway, Jillian said.

I laughed thinking about their comical apartment. It was possibly the most poorly decorated … and nastiest … apartment in Manhattan. But I had to give it to them because they had figured out how to maximize the space. Their beds were elevated, and they had placed furniture beneath them. They called it ‘double-decker living.’ But, as efficient as the arrangement was, nobody wanted to hang there. Maneuvering from the living room to the dining room could be hazardous to your health. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d gotten up from the couch and banged my head on the underside of Carly’s bed.

And then there was the issue of Mr. Big. He was Carly’s ankle-biting, chirpy dog.

It’s a shithole, and you know it, Carly said.

Because your dog turned it into a shithole, Jillian exclaimed, wagging a perfectly manicured finger at Carly. A dog shouldn’t have a potty spot in the house. It’s unsanitary, and cleanliness is next to godliness, you know.

It’s not unsanitary, Carly said. Allie’s cat has a litter box. It’s really no different.

No, it’s … , Jillian started.

I hate cats, Burke interrupted with a mouth full of burger. He pointed a finger at Adam. They’re evil. I don’t know how you can stay over there. Not me. I would have to sleep with one eye open.

Jillian rolled her eyes at him and continued like he hadn’t spoken. No, it’s absolutely different. Cats bury their crap. Dogs don’t. Dogs go outside … not on miniature football fields next to the dining room table.

You have a football field in your apartment? Ethan asked, looking up. Clearly, he hadn’t been following the conversation. I’d noticed he tended to space out sometimes when Jillian was talking, which made me wonder why he had stayed with her for this long.

Ethan was a very intelligent guy, and Jillian … well, Jillian was pretty.

When I’d first met her, I had been a little enamored by her. She had a super-model-esque look about her, and since she carried vodka in her purse, we had immediately hit it off. But since I’d gotten to know her, I had come to recognize she came with limitations. Carly had clearly gotten the brains in the family. Regardless, for the most part, Ethan was still enamored with her … at least parts of her.

Yes, his still-shiny new toy answered. Except there’s poop all over it, and it’s next to our table, which is directly under my bed.

So that’s why you’ve never invited me over, Ethan murmured. Why is the table under your bed? He still hadn’t completely caught up with us.

I saw an infomercial the other day on how to train your cat to pee in the toilet. I have to admit I was tempted, I said.

"Like Jinxy, the cat from that movie, Carly said, snapping her fingers as if this was a brilliant idea. You know, ‘Meet the Fockers. I should try it. If you can teach a cat to poop in the toilet, I don’t know why I couldn’t teach Mr. Big."

Dogs aren’t as smart as cats, Focker, I said.

That’s not true, Burke interrupted. Dogs have a much larger vocabulary than cats. Cats understand two words – ‘Here, kitty, kitty.’ Wait. Is that two words or three? It was possible Burke was a better match for Jillian than he was Carly, but those were not words I would ever utter aloud.

Ugh, Carly said, rolling her eyes. It’s three words, but only two are unique so it counts as two. And Rubber Cat is not smarter than Mr. Big. I will bet you I can teach Mr. Big to use the toilet before you can teach Rubber Cat.

That dog can’t even jump off the toilet without breaking his legs. I’ll take that bet, Adam said. He had finally rejoined the conversation after several minutes of appearing to be lost in his own thoughts.

I’m in, Burke said. What’s the bet?

Here we go, Barnacle said, laughing. He looked toward me. Their bets are legendary.

I smiled back at him. Barnacle was probably my favorite of Adam’s wayward friends. I mean, there was no doubt Burke was Adam’s go-to man, and he was a good guy if you could overlook his cocky ‘I’m the Lead Singer of a Band’ behavior. I liked him a lot, but I actually loved Barnacle a little. He was big and burly, and, though he was a bit scary looking, he was a teddy bear masked in tattoos and black rocker clothing. I didn’t know why, but from the very beginning, I felt a connection with him.

Adam looked thoughtful for a few long seconds. If I win, you have to wear a t-shirt of my choosing for three shows in a row.

Burke groaned. You have terrible taste in clothes. Look at you.

Adam looked down at his faded brown t-shirt. In fact, we all looked at his shirt. A piece of bacon was splayed across his chest. It was sandwiched between the phrase ‘Smoke Meat Everyday.’

What’s wrong with my shirt? he asked with a shrug. Who doesn’t like meat?

Me, Jillian said with a disgusted look on her face. All eyes flipped from Adam’s shirt to Jillian’s plate and her half-eaten tofu burger. The ‘meat’ portion of the burger was an odd color of grey and looked a little on the gelatinous side. I looked back at my bacon cheeseburger and sent up a little prayer to God in thanks for my love of meat.

Yeah, well, that’s just wrong, Adam said unapologetically, still staring at her sandwich.

It does look a little disgusting, doesn’t it? Jillian asked. She looked to Ethan. Am I too high maintenance? Her voice came out as a high pitched whine, and the whole table was reminded of how, at the most awkward of times, she could sound like a chirping monkey. The auditory resemblance was truly unfortunate.

No, Jill baby, you’re not too high maintenance, he said, while contradictorily nodding his head. Besides, I can think of a rare cut of meat you never turn down.

Stop, I said, throwing a french fry at him.

Okay, fine. I’ll wear whatever you want. Burke said, redirecting the conversation away from the sordid topic of Jillian’s secret meat fetish. But it doesn’t matter because I’m going to win. And then I’m going to get to drive your car.

A collective gasp went around the table. Not a snowball’s chance in hell, Adam said, chuckling. I’ve seen you drive, and, no offense, but you drive like a 16-year-old on a bender.

And you drive like a …, Burke stammered, unable to come up with anything to counter Adam’s insult. Fine. Bet’s off. If a night with Eleanor isn’t the prize, I’m not playing.

I met Adam’s eyes and sent him a subliminal message that we had this in the bag. He nodded, indicating he’d received my directive loud and clear. Fine, but you have to wear chaps with whatever shirt I pick and talk in a Texas accent to even the field.

You’re on. I’ve always wanted to wear chaps. I’m going to look and sound just like John Wayne.

With or without chaps, Burke was the farthest thing from John Wayne. His short dark hair stuck up from his head in an artfully arranged style intended to look maintenance-free though I knew that not to be the case. His uniform was head-to-toe black and reeked more of rocker than Old West. But it wasn’t the clothes that made the man. It was the colorful sleeve tattoos covering each arm from shoulder to wrist that … regardless of clothing … would prevent anyone from ever mistaking him for a cowboy.

As the guys continued to goad each other over the impending wager, I relaxed a bit. There was little chance the topic of two-bedroom apartments would rear its ugly head again this evening.

Chapter 2

Adam

Let’s not go to bed yet," Allie said as she tossed her purse and keys on the table inside the door.

You’re scared aren’t you? I asked laughing.

She smiled weakly. A little … I’ve always hated haunted houses. I mean really hated them. I can’t believe you made me do that tonight. She bent down and scratched Rubber Cat on the back. He flipped over and threw back his head to expose his short, little neck. She giggled and sat down next to him on the floor in the entryway. As she scratched under his chin, he nuzzled into her thigh, and his trademark chainsaw purr filled the room.

Well, I didn’t hate it. You were hilarious. I’ve never seen anyone run so fast through a haunted house before.

As soon as we had entered the first room of the house, Allie had smashed herself up against my backside and wrapped her vise-like arms around my waist. Before the woman with the hatchet in her head had even started toward us, Allie’s head was buried in my back, and her feet were running. Using me as a human shield, she’d made it through in record time.

I hadn’t minded, though. I’d learned in junior high that scared girls were affectionate girls. To this day, I’d never met a girl who didn’t climb me like a tree at the first sign of a little gore. Honestly, it was the only reason I ever spent any money on haunted houses and horror movies. Time after time, they had always proved to be a good return on my investment, and Allie had not disappointed tonight. Even at breakneck speed, I’d enjoyed every second of her sprint through the House of Horrors. And if she needed to sleep a little closer than normal tonight, I’d be all right with it.

---

Alexis

Sorry about that, but i needed you to guide me and make sure I didn’t run into anything … like a decapitated zombie wanting to eat my brains.

You know it’s a whole lot worse when you close your eyes. Your imagination will conjure up something way more terrifying than what’s actually in front of you. That’s true of horror movies, too.

It is! I said. "When I was in the sixth grade, I went to a lock-in at my church. And somebody please explain to me why a group of middle schoolers at a church lock-in were allowed to watch Nightmare on Elm Street, but we were. I hunkered down in my sleeping bag and refused to watch. It was the longest, scariest two hours of my life."

"The original Nightmare on Elm Street from 1984 was only 91 minutes long, but I bet it felt like a decade," he said with a laugh.

How do you do that?

What? he said, shrugging.

Remember when a movie from three decades ago was made. In 1984, you were, like, 1 year old or something, I said, ticking off years on my fingers.

Adam sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. I’m a wealth of superfluous information.

But only if it involves numbers or movies. Or numbers and movies, I said, shaking my head.

It was true. I’d seen him spill out dates and sports statistics like it was nothing at all. At dinner with Ethan and Jillian a few weeks ago, he had recited Pi to 25 decimal places and only stopped because we made him. Of course, the rest of the table had to assume he was right. Ethan and I only knew it to three decimal places, and Jillian didn’t understand why Adam was reciting numbers when we were talking about dessert. How is it, as good as you are at numbers, you decided you want to make movies?

Well, I didn’t start out in film, he said, still focused on flipping through channels on the TV. When I was at UT, my major was accounting. His face froze at the realization of what he had said. It bordered on a topic neither of us liked to delve into very often. It wasn’t that we couldn’t talk about it. But we’d already hashed through it, and neither of us