Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Oh, that’s right.” Eric took on a thoughtful tone as we headed out of the neighborhood. “Montgomery helped him find that studio apartment down the street. He was always helpful like that.” He paused for a fond sigh. “Meddling almost, but his patients loved him.”
“We all did.” I gave him a quick pat on the shoulder as he stopped for a red light. “And he loved you and the kids so much.”
“I know.” He looked far off into the distance, down the hill from the historic neighborhood, past the start of the downtown buildings, past the river, into that tunnel of grief where none of us could follow. “And I’m grateful. But sometimes…it’s hard.”
“That’s love.” I wished either of my parents was with us because they’d know far better what to say. “Love isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. Better to have loved, right?”
“I suppose.” Eric gave a subtle shake of his head that said I’d missed the mark with my platitudes. “But don’t let my…stuff deter you. You should get back out there while you’re in town.”
I let him have the clear bid to change the topic. “You sound like my dad.”
“He’s not wrong.” Eric offered me a brittle smile. “Date. Have fun. Have a fling while you decide your next move.”
“Huh.” Despite all the urging me to start dating again, no one else had encouraged me to think short-term or casual. “Maybe.”
This would be an ideal moment to tell Eric about my encounter with Denver, but I kept my mouth shut for reasons I didn’t entirely understand. It wasn’t that I feared Eric’s judgment. Indeed, I could use a friend’s help figuring out what it all meant in terms of who I was, who I’d always been. Oh. That was likely it. I wasn’t ready for the conversation, and as much as I could use Eric’s steady advice, I didn’t want to burden him with my rather trivial shit.
Instead, I continued to think quietly about the fling idea after Eric dropped me at my truck. I took a long moment considering Honey’s before pulling out of the parking lot. Denver was likely home sleeping like I should be as well. But hell if I could get him off my mind. Like almost everyone else, he’d assumed I was in the market for another spouse sooner rather than later. I wasn’t. And not because Maxine and our cozy companionship were irreplaceable, but because, like Eric said, it was hard. Loss of any kind sucked, and I wasn’t eager to do it again.
But a fling…
That had possibilities. I was already jonesing for a repeat with Denver. Maybe if I tried his ultra-casual approach, I’d have better luck. I took the turn onto Prospect Place slowly, driving by Denver’s place like some lovesick teen. His blinds were drawn. I didn’t want to wake him, but we did need to talk. And soon.
Chapter Six
Denver
I’d been a night owl as long as I could remember, so working nights at Honey’s Hotcake Hut wasn’t ordinarily much of a challenge. However, squeezing in enough hours of daytime sleep while trying my damnedest not to think about Sean? That was a feat on par with reaching the top of Mount Hood. And forget thinking—simply trying not to give into the temptation to jerk off thinking about our shower sex had taken major willpower, something I wasn’t exactly known for. Not surprisingly, I cut it close to the start of my Saturday-night shift at Honey’s. Tammy was already there, rolling silverware, a fresh apron in place, and reddish hair towering over her heart-shaped face.
“What are you doing beating me here?” I aimed for a joking tone to distract from my own near-tardiness. “Gonna make me look bad.”
“Eh. Not much to do at home.” Tammy shrugged, ample bosom rising under her black apron. “Nothing good on TV tonight. Saturday night’s not what it used to be.”
“I hear that. You could always try one of the streaming services.” I tended to avoid all the recurring monthly bills I possibly could, but an older woman like Tammy, living alone with three cats and working graveyards, seemed like an ideal candidate for shows on demand. Also, I didn’t like the touch of loneliness in her voice or the way her chin sagged. “You okay though? Taking care of yourself? Sleeping?”
Earlier in the winter, during a slow shift, Tammy had mentioned being proud of a particular twelve-step milestone. I wasn’t much on meetings, but we’d bonded over similar decisions to leave hard living behind us. Over the past few years, I’d reached a point where I seldom dwelled on my younger years of wild parties and rock group tours. I didn’t know Tammy’s full story, but I was fond of her and would miss her when I inevitably drifted on.
“Yes. Worrywart.” She patted my upper arm, then my chin, ruffling my short beard. “You’re sweet.”