Page 84 of If I Didn’t Have You

He shot me a humorous look. “Don’t tell me in all the years you’ve been married you never actually talked to your wife.”

“Not like you’re describing.”

“Seriously?”

“It was a different time. Yeah, when we were younger…I guess we talked about shit.”

“But what about telling her about what you’re feeling?”

Hell, it was hard for me to admit when I was wrong, much less tell her about what I was feeling. I wasn’t sure I had it in me.

“Look, it’s not as bad as you’re thinking. You don’t have to gush about yourself, but you do have to give her something. Why don’t you start with what put you in such a funk.”

“She already knows,” I grumbled.

“Right, but has she ever heard it from your lips?”

I thought back to all the times I’d spoken, but not really told her much. All those dinners where the kids brought up the past, whether that was Clay’s accident or how we had to sell off the cattle. I pretty much slammed my fist on the table and told them we weren’t discussing it, and in my mind, that relayed what I was feeling.

Sighing, I took a seat on the bench as dread filled the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know how to do this shit.”

“You just have to tell her.”

“Yeah, but when I talk about that shit, I get mad. And when I get mad, I start yelling.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to stop that,” he chuckled. “The last thing you want is for her to start thinking you’re pissed at her.”

I huffed out a laugh at how the situations were reversed. “You know, I’m supposed to be doling out the advice at my age.”

“Deal with it, old man. We’re younger and more in touch with our feelings.” He winced at the description. “Well, some of them are. I did what I had to do.”

I grunted at the realization that we weren’t so very different. He didn’t want to open up, but he did it for the sake of his relationship. If I was going to save my marriage, something had to change. And that something was most definitely me.

“Thanks, man.”

“Sure. Now, are you ready to hit the ring, or do you want me to grab some wine?”

“Fuck off,” I chuckled. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Be sure that you are. Can’t stand around waiting on your tired ass all day. Some of us have work to do.”

The jab hit a little too close to home, but was one hundred percent accurate. I was the youngest retiree in Montana, and that was about to change.

25

CLARA

I walked into book club at Once Upon A Bookseller and stopped in my tracks.

She was here.

Not only here, but talking with my friends as if she wasn’t scheming to get her hands on my husband. A man twice her age! What was she thinking?

“Calm down,” Georgia hissed as she rushed over, wrapping me in a hug to hide the fact that she was talking me off the ledge. “I think it’s possible you may have been wrong about the whole flirting thing.”

“I was wrong?” I snapped, wondering what the hell she was talking about.

As the whole book shop turned to see what the commotion was, I pinched my lips shut as Georgia took my hand and dragged me to the bathroom in the back, locking the door behind us.