Chapter 4

"Uncle George, I get it. First, watch whether her body pulls away. Second, watch whether she keeps engaging." I summed it up like a student who'd finally cracked the lesson.

"So what's the third sign?"

I pressed him, too eager to wait. It felt like I was about to get my hands on the secret playbook that could save my relationship.

Uncle George didn't answer right away.

He turned his head and glanced toward the main room.

"Read 'em and weep! Royal flush!"

My uncle by marriage let out a roar from the poker table across the room.

Right after came a jumble of complaints and teasing curses from my aunts.

The air in the tea room had turned noisy and stale.

Uncle George frowned and slapped his pack of cigarettes down on the table.

"Too loud in here. Come on, let's get some air out on the balcony."

He stood, smoothed the hem of his suit jacket, and strode out of the tea room.

I hurried after him.

The balcony on the hotel's top floor was huge. The night breeze had a chill to it, and it woke me up as it brushed across my face.

The city's neon lights flickered below us, and the traffic flowed like rivers of light.

Uncle George walked over to the railing and finally lit the cigarette he'd been holding off on for so long.

The ember glowed and dimmed in the dark.

He took a deep drag and slowly let out a stream of white smoke.

"The third sign is the hardest to spot, and it takes the most nerve from a man."

His voice sounded a little low in the night wind.

"Ever heard the story of how Johnny Cash pursued June Carter?"

I paused. I knew Johnny Cash, the music legend, but I didn't know anything about his love life.

"Didn't think so." Uncle George smiled and tapped the ash off his cigarette.

"Back in the day, Johnny Cash fell for June Carter, a girl much younger than him."

"June was the belle of the scene back then. She had enough admirers to fill a stadium, and she wanted nothing to do with a dirt-poor country boy like Johnny."

"So Johnny started writing her love letters. One after another, each one sappier than the last."

"June found it unbearably annoying. She even numbered and sorted the letters and read them for laughs."

At that point, I couldn't help cutting in.

"If she took it all the way to the boss, that had to be a flat-out rejection, right?"

Uncle George turned his head and gave me a long, searching look.

"That's the trouble with you young people. You only think in straight lines."

"When Sam Phillips read the letters, he didn't scold Johnny at all. Instead, he told June, 'He loves you stubbornly.'"

"And what did June say back?"

"She huffed, 'And I stubbornly don't love him!'"

Uncle George stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the railing and turned to face me.

"Sounds like an ironclad rejection, doesn't it?"

I nodded. "Anybody would've backed off after that."

"But Johnny didn't." Uncle George's gaze turned unusually sharp.

"Not only did he not back down, he kept writing. He even followed her all the way to her hometown."

"Here's the key!"

"Why did Johnny dare to be so shameless about it?"

"Because he'd caught the loophole in how June was acting!"

Uncle George held up three fingers.

"That's the third sign: she puts up a hard wall with her words, but she keeps a private space open just for you."

"Think about it. If June really thought Johnny was a creep, a piece of trash, would she have kept those letters and numbered them?"

"Would she have made a big scene about it in front of the boss?"

"Going to complain looked like rejection on the surface. But deep down, she was announcing to the world: 'This brilliant talent is crazy about me.'"

"That's a kind of hidden vanity. It's also a sign she hasn't fully closed the door."

Uncle George's take was incredibly bold. It turned everything I thought I knew about that famous couple upside down.

"So in today's world, how do you tell?" Uncle George patted the railing.

"Say you confess your feelings to a woman, or you're fighting and she's making noise about breaking up."

"Her words are ruthless: 'Don't come looking for me.' 'It's never going to happen.' 'I need some time alone.'"

"But!" Uncle George put weight on the word.

"She hasn't blocked your number."

"She hasn't moved your things out."

"She even posts sad little quotes on social media, set so only you can see them, or makes sure you'll notice them."

"At that point, she's actually sending a signal: I'm hurting, I'm torn, and I need you to prove you mean it with something stronger, something that breaks through my defenses!"

I sucked in a sharp breath.

I thought about Summer's silent treatment these past few days.

She wouldn't talk to me, but she still slept in our bed every night.

She didn't answer my texts, but she hadn't blocked me either.

Just last night, I'd seen her post a line online: "Some disappointment builds up over time."

At the time, I'd only thought she was taking a jab at me. It made me even more irritated, and I didn't bother to like it or comment.

So it turned out that post was a cry for help!

"Uncle George!"

I grabbed his arm, worked up. "I get it now! She's showing every one of these signs! So what do I do? Rush home, pin her against the wall, and kiss her?"

It felt like something inside me had finally clicked open. I couldn't wait to put all this into practice.

Uncle George looked at how carried away I was, and his face suddenly darkened.

He didn't answer my question. Instead, he stared at me with an almost ruthless look.

"If you go back right now and treat her with the kind of 'taking charge' you have in mind…"

"I guarantee the two of you will be at the county courthouse tomorrow, filing the paperwork to split up."

It was like getting a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. I froze.

"Why? Didn't you just say she's waiting for me to make a move, to be a little more forceful?" I was completely lost.

Uncle George turned away and gazed at the pitch-black sky in the distance. His voice went ice-cold.

"Because you only understood the surface. You haven't grasped the heart of it at all!"

"You think all a woman's testing is just so she can enjoy the thrill of a man chasing her relentlessly?"

He turned back, pulled his phone from his pocket, opened something on the screen, and shoved it right in front of my face.

"Take a look at this."

"If you can't even understand this, then every move you make will look like harassment in her eyes, an unforgivable violation!"

My eyes went wide as I stared hard at the words on Uncle George's phone screen.

It was a chat history, and what it said made my heart clench in an instant.