“Oh my.” I dab at the corners of my mouth with the napkin. “This is heavenly.”
He gives me a satisfied smile. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Iloveit,” I say, taking another bite. “You certainly can cook.”
“Thank you. I enjoy it. It relaxes me.”
“Don’t forget, I still owe you some biscuits and gravy.”
He chuckles. “Trust me, I won’t. I’ve been dreaming of those things since you told me about them.”
“I’m going to have to step up my game if all your dishes are this good.” I take a sip of my wine to pace myself so I don’t inhale the entire dish. I was so nervous about our date that I’d barely eaten the sandwich Ellie picked up for me while she was out, and our pre-dinner salads hadn’t done much to stifle the growls of my stomach.
“I’m good,” he says, “but trust me, you’re the only pro here.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Did Henry like to cook?” he asks. “And if that’s at all uncomfortable for you to talk about with me, I understand. But he’s an important part of your life, so I want to know about him.”
My breath catches, and I clear my throat, resting my fork on my plate.
“I apologize,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”
“You didn’t,” I say. “It’s just, I’m not used to hearing people talk about him in the present tense. It’s always ‘hewasa good husband’ or ‘hewasa big part of your life,’ so it caught me off guard is all.”
He nods, his eyes fixed on me for a moment before he speaks again.
“I’m not good at this, so forgive me if I’m a little direct,” he begins. “I’ve grown quite fond of you since I showed up on your doorstep to pick up my puppy, whom you kindly allowed to terrorize your home, though we’d never even met.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “She wasn’tthatbad.”
He smiles. “When I first laid eyes on you, I thought you were the most magnificent woman I’d ever seen. But as I started to get to know you, I discovered your heart is somehow even more beautiful.”
I lower my gaze and swallow hard, willing my racing heart to slow.
He hooks his finger beneath my chin and lifts my head up so he can look into my eyes.
“Myra Jean, I mentioned your husband in the present tense because I know he’s very much still a part of you, and I don’t want to change that. You don’t get to be our age without living a whole lot of life. We’ve both got a good bit of mileage behind us, but I never want you to feel you have to leave your husband in the rearview. I don’t need to be in the driver’s seat or even the passenger seat. I’m just happy to be in the same car with you, if you’ll let me.”
I blink, sending the tears that formed in my eyes cascading down my cheeks. The nerves that kept me company all day have slipped out the side door, leaving me and Ron alone at last. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear what he said, how much I needed to know that it was still okay to love my husband. That perhaps it was somehow possible for me to miss him and love him and even grieve him while still moving forward.
He wipes away the moisture on my face with the pad of his thumb, and I grasp his hand before he can pull it away.
“Okay,” I say finally. “But I’ve got to warn you, I’ve been told I drive like a bat out of hell.”
A grin stretches across his face. “Guess I better buckle up.”
After dinner,Ron and I talk on the couch while throwing a ball for June Bug. He tells me tales about his years teaching and about the time he talked to Johnny Cash in a bar ages ago without knowing it was him until The Man in Black was already out the door. We talk about our kids, and when Henry comes up as he often does in many of my stories, Ron is unbothered. Instead, he asks me questions, content to get to know Henry as an extension of me.
When the time comes for Ron to drive me home, my heart and belly are full, but my limbs are light and airy like cotton candy. He takes the scenic route so we can look at the homes decked out in Christmas lights.
“Look at that.” I point out the window to a house that has an alarmingly real-looking Santa that appears to be stuck in their chimney headfirst. “I don’t know if that’s cute or traumatizing. If Lindsey had seen something like that as a kid, she would have been convinced it was real and that we needed to save him. Iwould have had to knock on their door with a weeping five-year-old and beg them to prove Santa wasn’t actually stranded up there.”
He laughs. “Why do I get the feeling you’re speaking from experience?”
“Because I am,” I say. “We had a neighbor for a few years that went all out for their holiday displays, and they had a similar decoration one time. Only theirs was the back end of a reindeer that looked to have crashed into an upstairs window. Lindsey was so distraught when she saw it that she managed to call 911 without me knowing. Imagine my surprise when two very confused EMTs showed up at my door after getting a call about an injury.”
“That kid of yours sure has a good heart. I believe she’d help anyone.”
