Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“He’s a good man.” I averted my gaze, afraid to see that look in Donna’s eyes—that bald sadness, or maybe fear, that we were moving on with our lives. I didn’t want to disappoint any of them, even if it was about something as simple as a new friendship. Fuck, what would their reaction be to something akin to a relationship?
I thrust it from my thoughts as Grant stood with the empty bowl and headed inside.
Donna stayed seated and leaned closer to me. “How did…Marcus’s wife pass?”
I thought about the first time he recounted the incident with me, over drinks at a bar. That haunted look in his eyes was one way I could relate, and only too well. It was the first time I knew with great certainty we’d forged a connection. “In a car crash, about two and a half years ago.”
She frowned. “That’s terrible.”
“Definitely.” In group, people shared all sorts of stories about how their significant others had passed, from peacefully in their sleep to murder, which was heartbreaking, really. I’d once suggested to my in-laws that they attend the parent version of the group, but they’d never followed through for their own personal reasons. “One of the things we have in common is…is the desire to feel some normalcy, to feel human again.”
She stared at me a long moment before she asked, “And having him around does that?”
“Yeah, I suppose it does.” I felt my cheeks grow hot.
“Then I’m glad you found a new friend.”
The silence grew between us as she stared out at the night sky, maybe working through her own shit. It was hard not to say something, anything, to make her understand—or maybe to assuage my own guilt.
I said, “We’re all working on our own timelines, you know that.” She grew rigid as she listened. “Grief isn’t something you get over. Your life just absorbs it, incorporates it deep inside you, I guess. I will never not love her. I’m just trying to find my way without her.” I blinked away tears as she swiped at her eyes.
“Grief is just love with no place to go. That’s what my therapist told me,” Grant said from the other side of the screen door. Fuck, how long had he been standing there?
“That’s beautiful,” Donna said with a watery smile, then patted my hand. “Give some of it to your dad. He needs it.”
My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn’t find the right words. And neither could Grant, it seemed, because he only stared, wide-eyed.
“You two are more alike than you think. Stubborn, but good through and through.” She stood and adjusted her jacket. “And we all need to find happiness wherever we can. Rebecca would want that.”
18
Marcus
November
“Do you think people have room in their hearts for more than one great love?” Frank asked in group, creating a stir around the room. Even Delaney grew still to listen. Before that, he kept checking his phone—he’d told Judy he’d likely leave early to pick Grant and his friend up from the mall. Frank continued, “It’s something I’ve been thinking about lately. Well, since Marc told us he’d joined a dating site.”
I smiled, trying to gauge Delaney’s expression. Would he care one way or another if I pulled the app up again and flirted with anyone? Made plans? I supposed it shouldn’t really matter because we didn’t owe each other anything. If us being intimate muddied the water for him, then I didn’t want any part in confusing him.
The truth was, I’d avoided any deep conversations with Delaney since Halloween. Last weekend, we’d kept it mostly professional, the three of us choosing a new countertop and sink before getting back to work. It was hard, though, not to remember how full of joy he’d looked that night while passing out candy with Grant and me. As if he’d finally let go and allowed himself some happiness. But when his mother-in-law arrived, I could feel the insidious guilt worming its way back inside him.
And I got it. Fuck, I got it. He was a widower with a teenager, his wife’s parents were involved in his life, and they were all still suffering from the loss. But grief would swallow you whole if you didn’t allow yourself some selfish moments. That’s how I’d describe what happened in the attic—us greedily giving in to our needs.
“Is that something you’re interested in doing?” Judy asked Frank. “Joining a dating site?”
He shrugged. “I asked my daughter to help sign me up, but I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking for.”
“For action in the bedroom again?” John asked in his irreverent way, and Frank rolled his eyes.
“Not sure my pipes work very well anymore,” Frank said, and some group members snickered.
“Well, then you need a doctor’s appointment,” John scoffed. “There’s medicine for that.”
“Okay, we’re getting off-topic here,” Judy said in an amused tone. “Let’s get back to Frank’s original question about our hearts having room for love. Anyone have an answer?”