Since he died, every moment of joy has been stained by loss, like red wine spilled on a white tablecloth…no matter how much time passes or how much I try to wash it out, it lingers.
“A beautiful mess.”
I drop my gaze to the menu, my heart eyes blurring the words into happy swirls before I look at him again.
“Listen, Lindsey…” Oliver clears his throat and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Maybe this is forward of me to say,but I’ve learned that when you feel something, you’ve got to say it. Life’s too short not to. I really like you.”
“I like you too.” It’s a big admission, one I can’t believe I’m making. I wait for the cloudiness to settle in. The inevitable sadness that follows the moments I’d give anything to be able to call and share with my dad. But this time, it doesn’t come.
“I wonderwhat song Ace would want as his lullaby,” Oliver says as he opens the passenger door to his truck for me after dinner. The buzz from the wine has faded, but I’m drunk on Oliver’s smile and the way his eyes almost disappear when he laughs.
“Well, ‘Purple Rain’ does have a track record of being pet-approved.” I grin, buckling my seat belt. There’s a cold, misty rain falling that makes the street lights reflect off the pavement. It’s the kind of weather that often causes me to have a flare, but even that can’t dampen my mood.
He chuckles as he climbs into the driver’s side. “I don’t think Ace is a Prince guy.”
“How do you know? Have you asked him?” The fun, playful side of me had come out of her hiding place, a little dusty from years of being hidden in the basement of my heart. I’m surprised at how quickly it comes back and how easy it is to be that version of myself with Oliver.
“This may come as a shock to you, but I haven’t.”
“He might like show tunes, for all you know.”
“Well, I don’t know any, so I’ll need you to come over and sing some to fully test that theory.” He glances at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes before he pulls out of the lot and onto the road, Christmas music playing softly on the radio in thebackground. “I think he’s probably more of a classic rock guy, though. Like ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’”
I give him a nod of approval. “Clearly, Ace has great taste.”
“He does,” Oliver agrees, tossing me a smile. “He did pick you as a vet, after all.”
“Did Ace pick me as a vet, or didyou?” I tease.
“I guess we both have great taste, then.”
I’m thankful for the darkness that hides the flush of attraction that washes over me. For a moment, I shift my gaze out the window, watching as the town’s Christmas lights pass us by, and I’m overcome with joy. Too often I’m the one in the driver's seat, focused so intently on the next stop that I don’t get to enjoy how magical our small town looks after dark, wearing her holiday best.
The familiar notes of an old Ramones Christmas song pierces through the sounds of the windshield wipers as Oliver’s hand reaches for the dial.
I squeal. “Turn that up. I haven’t heard this in forever.”
He stops before touching the button and closes his hand into a fist before opening it again and raising the volume.
I tap my fingers against my knees to the beat. “I used to love this song. It’s one of the most underrated Christmas songs, if you ask me. Have you heard it before?”
His smile is replaced by a hardened jaw, and his Adam’s apple bobs before he responds.
“I have,” he answers. “It was, um…It was my wife’s favorite. Before she died.”
The admission knocks the wind out of me. Not because I’m upset—it would be ridiculous of me to think a man this wonderful had never loved or been loved before. Instead, I’m overcome with empathy.
“Oliver, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” I place my hand on his arm. “We can turn it off.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s a great song, and it’s tied to a lot of good memories for me. Sometimes that grief just hits you when you least expect it, you know?”
God, do I know.
I want to ask about her because I know how much talking about Dad helps me feel close to him still, but I don’t want to overstep.
“Do you…want to tell me about her?” I finally ask. “If you do, I’d love to listen.”
He sighs and gives me a faint smile. “Jess and I had just celebrated our fifth anniversary when she passed away four years ago.”
