Chapter 25
“This is the last fucking place I need to be today,” I muttered, running a hand over the itchy, bristly beard that had overtaken my cheeks, the gray hair flecked through it a stark reminder of my advancing age.
Malibu yipped, pressing herself against my side as we walked through the perfectly manicured lawn.
The crisp fall leaves crunched under my work boots, and a cool breeze carrying the scent of damp earth and rain brushed against my face.
I closed my fingers tightly around the bouquet of daisies, the cellophane wrapper crinkling as my knuckles turned white from the unyielding pressure.
Kneeling on the freshly mowed grass, I pressed my fingers against the cold slab of marble, tracing her name.
My breath caught in my chest, and my voice broke. “I still think about you every damn day, Autumn.” The answering silence did little to quell my thoughts, and I sat mournfully for an hour before I had the courage to speak again.
“I never know what to say when I’m here. And now when I have the chance to fill the quiet with something meaningful, the words won’t come.”
Malibu sat beside me, resting one paw on my thigh and tilting her head toward the gravestone.
The scent of daisies filled the air, bringing with it memories of our brief but happy relationship.
I closed my eyes as images forced their way into my subconscious, bringing with them the ever-present, oppressive guilt.
“I cherish our memories, and I’ll never regret our time together, but marriage was never in my plans back then.
Not until I fell in love with you. My family had to come first. After Dad died, they became my responsibility.
To this day, they still are. I never thought I was meant to be a husband.
I guess you proved me wrong there, didn’t you?
We were damn good together while it lasted. ”
I cleared my throat, allowing the dormant emotions to push their way to the surface.
“I’m selling your car, Autumn. Every time I look at it, all I can think about is the crash.
Of grasping your hand as the light in your eyes faded away.
The ink on our license was barely dry, you know?
Hell, the accident happened on the way to the fucking airport for our honeymoon. ”
My forehead rested on the cool stone. “These days, I’m so fucking confused.
I’ve met someone who can’t even be considered a someone yet.
It has to be nothing more than a desperate attempt to hold on to something I never thought I wanted.
But then again, what if this could be a new beginning?
Stupid, right?” A heavy sigh left me, and I shook my head.
“Here I am at fucking forty, waxing poetic about new beginnings.”
I stood, brushing the damn dirt from my knees and replacing the lilies in the vase that had long since withered.
“I can almost hear your voice telling me to suck it up, buttercup, and grab life by the balls, holding onto every scrap of happiness I can find. But what does that say about me? If I can know exactly what you’ll say but not remember how you smell.
Or the tone of your voice. I’m just so tired, baby. Tired of being so fucking lonely.”
There was nothing more to say—there never was. Nothing would change the fact that her body was in the ground and my thoughts about Summer had gone from antagonistic to fucking nuclear.
Why the fuck had I thought it was a good idea to do this the morning before I took Summer on a date? My only job today should have been showering and shaving. Not trying to justify some unknown feeling to my deceased wife after spending the night with another woman.
This was a mistake. A big, fat, fucking epic disaster. What good did being here do other than force me to relive Autumn’s death? Maybe I was in some sort of sex-induced walking coma, still blinded by how responsive Summer was and how she felt surrounding me?
Thinking about those two women within the same breath was a sign of my slowly slipping sanity or delusions of someone finally seeing what I’d always wanted hidden.
I shook my head and sighed before bending down to scratch Malibu behind her ears. She pressed her body against my thigh, and I smiled as she yawned, tilting her head toward the sky. I did the same and tugged off my hat, running my arm over my brow.
At least she didn’t expect anything but cuddles, but I wouldn’t say no to my four-legged-girl suddenly developing superpowers that could turn the clock back twelve hours so I could spend more time cuddling with Malibu…or Summer.
I rolled my eyes at the stupidity of my thoughts. “Come on, Princess. Let’s go home. We have a date, remember? Think I should do a double Windsor knot or stick with slacks and a sport coat?”
I tried for casual indifference, but Malibu was way smarter than me and could always pick up on my mood. She barked, shaking her head, and then stopping to scratch behind her left ear.
“We don’t have time for the park now, girl. But there are treats in the truck.”
Her recognition of the “T” word had her forgetting my forced good mood and made me laugh as she ran around me in circles, barking madly. Perhaps Summer would be as impressed later with my choice of cuisine for our date.
One of our clients owned a fancy French restaurant downtown and reserved us a table for seven this evening.
After TriVolt upgraded their dining room with individual light fixtures for each table, I never thought it would be the kind of place I’d have dinner.
Not that I had anything against French food—except for that ridiculously priced caviar plate—I just preferred eating food I could pronounce.
I did the same thing with Malibu. If I couldn’t pronounce the ingredients, I didn’t buy the food. Maybe that’s why she had her own shelf in the fridge.
The bag of venison jerky I kept in the car for her got significantly lighter on the way home.
She happily gobbled up several pieces before I rolled the windows down and tapped my fingers against the steering wheel to the classic rock tune on the radio, feeling lighter than I had before visiting Autumn—even if the guilt remained.