“Secret second family?”
I laughed. “No, just my Annie.”
“Then I think we’re good.” He sat back against the log, stretching his legs out long on the blanket.
“Your standards might need to be a little higher,” I said. “And there are less obvious egregious acts that I might be guilty of.”
“Such as?”
“Letting my husband die on my watch?” I tried to keep the same lilting tone but instead it came out raw and real.
He moved slightly to place his hand over mine, just briefly but it was nice. “His death wasn’t your fault. However, I’ve learned by going to the support group for the last couple years that you’re not the only one who feels responsible. I do too. But it’s not true. Your husband was sick. Nothing you did or didn’t do would have changed that.”
I kicked off my sandals to stick my feet in the sand. “I know that intellectually.”
“But it doesn’t feel that way. All those iterations of what you could have done to save him, right?”
“That’s right. It’s worse at night. When I’m trying to sleep.”
“God, yes, that’s the worst of all.”
We were quiet for a moment, the waves crashing to shore lulling me into a semi-trance.
“How come you’ve never been married,” I asked.
“My career mostly. It’s hard for spouses. The deployments. The moving around all the time. I always thought I’d find someone eventually, but so far it hasn’t happened. That’s something I regret when it comes to my mom. She wanted grandchildren very badly.”
“What about you? Do you want a baby?”
He took a second to answer. “I’ve not thought much about it.”
“Really? Does that mean you don’t want one?”
“No, not that. It’s just I don’t think about the future very much. I’m more of a be-in-the-moment kind of guy.”
I digested that, digging my feet deeper into the cold sand.
“Sand in your toes,” he said. “One of your favorite things.”
“That’s right. Which reminds me. Show me your profile. Please.”
He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times before handing it to me.
But before I could read the actual profile, I noticed the number of matches and messages. “You have, like, a thousand messages in here.”
“Do I?” He lifted one eyebrow and made a half-mouthed grimace. “I haven’t looked.”
“Did you message Camille back?”
“Why? Would that bother you?” He smiled, a little wickedly. “Make you jealous?”
“It would bother me for several reasons, but mostly because she is a bad person and you’re a good one. Thus, I would advise staying away.”
“Duly noted,” he said.
I read through his profile, which made me smile several times. He was charming even on paper. Or a phone screen, such as it was.
“Okay, cherry pie, coffee, sappy movies?—”
