Chapter 7
Sheila
After Parker and Anya said their goodbyes, I set the phone down on the couch and stared blankly at the wall for a few moments.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
Married .
Parker was married to that beautiful blond woman who made him smile so big at Adaline’s wedding. The story they told was a sweet one—a whirlwind night, an impulsive decision because they couldn’t stop themselves once they reconnected. A wild, romantic leap, something that neither of them expected, but they were happy , they told me. My mind spun like a top, and my hand fluttered up to my chest to make sure my heart wasn’t about to jump straight out.
It was too late to go to the cemetery, which I liked to do a couple of times a month. It wasn’t because I couldn’t talk to my husband while I was home, but something about being there and seeing his name just made it feel a bit more real.
Instead, I turned on the couch and stared at the framed photo of Tim that I kept on the end table. With a shaky hand, I picked it up, my thumb tracing over the version of his face that I liked to remember best—when he was healthy and tan, those smile lines spreading out from his eyes, and laugh lines bracketed his smile.
“Honey, you are never going to believe this,” I said quietly. “But those damn kids keep thinking they can fool us.” I shook my head. “How many fake spouses do they think they can pull from thin air before they give me any credit at all?”
I laughed before I could stop it. Laughed long and hard, even though the sharp pain of missing him was just underneath that laughter.
I set the photo down, and my thumb tapped on the edge of the frame.
Next weekend, those two would be under my roof.
“A couple of years ago, I might have let this one go,” I said. “Sit back and watch it play out, and hope that boy pulls his head out of his ass. Not this time.”
I imagined what Tim would say if he were here.
Don’t you dare meddle, Sheila.
A devious smile spread over my face before I could stop it.