It sounded as though they’d had a good marriage, the type of relationship Dave had enjoyed with Carol.
Somewhere between the brownies, the building, and conversations about their families, Beth had quietly become a friend, and someone he could imagine spending more time with.
But as he turned into his driveway, Dave sighed. They both had busy jobs. They both had families and friends who filled their lives with purpose.
And they both had the shadow of their former partners walking beside them.
Chapter 13
Beth walked into the Starlight Café and didn’t have to search for Laurel. Her friend always sat at the same table by the window and ordered the same coffee with a blueberry or chocolate muffin.
Beth liked that about her. There was nothing to guess at with Laurel. She was careful, liked consistency, and you could always depend on her for good advice.
“You look tired,” Laurel said, once their coffee and muffins arrived. “Are you good tired or bad tired?”
Beth wrapped both hands around her mug. “I don’t know anymore. Maybe both. It’s been a strange few weeks.”
Laurel picked up her blueberry muffin. “Strange how?”
Beth thought about her answer before she said anything. “There was a moment yesterday when I was at the arts center. I said something to Dave about Jessie.” Beth watched the steam rise from her coffee. “It’s so easy to talk to him. Is that a bad thing?”
Laurel stopped chewing. “I wouldn’t think so. What did you say?”
“I told him Jessie used to leave notes in my pockets,” Beth told her friend. “Little ones that would say pick up the milk, love you, or don’t forget you’re beautiful, that kind of thing. I told Dave I still check the pockets of my clothes sometimes, looking for those notes.”
Laurel tilted her head to one side. “Jessie’s messages were a special part of your life. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to hold on to that.”
“Then why do I feel as though there is? I’ve never told anyone about the notes Jessie used to leave me. Why would I blurt it out to Dave?”
Laurel didn’t answer straightaway. Unlike her other friends, she didn’t rush to solve a problem.
“What worried you about telling Dave?” Laurel asked eventually.
Beth sighed. “I’ve spent six years being careful about what I let myself want, Laurel, because careful doesn’t get you hurt. But when I’m with Dave, I’m not careful at all. I just talk. And it feels wonderful. And that terrifies me more than anything else.”
“Because if you let yourself want something again,” Laurel said slowly, “you have to risk losing it.”
Beth nodded.
Laurel gave her own mug a slow half circle where it sat, a small precise motion Beth had watched her make a hundred times. It was the closest thing Laurel had to fidgeting. “I understand that better than you think. I’ve been putting some money away every month for five years now. For a place of my own. I don’t want anything fancy. Just somewhere that’s mine, on a street I can afford.”
“Laurel, that’s wonderful. Why haven’t you said anything?”
“Because saying it out loud makes it real, and real things can fall through.” Laurel gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “There’s also someone—” She stopped and looked down at her coffee. “I’m not ready to talk about that person yet.”
“That’s okay,” Beth said, and she meant it. “When you are ready, I’ll be here for you.”
“I know you will,” Laurel said with a smile. “I can’t tell you what to do about Dave, Beth. I don’t think that’s my business, and I don’t think you’d listen even if it was.”
Beth grinned at one of her dearest friends. “Probably not.”
“But I’ll say this much,” Laurel continued. “Being careful kept me safe for a long time. It also meant I woke up one morning and realized I hadn’t let myself want anything in almost a decade. Not a house. Not a person. Nothing that could be taken away. And do you know why?”
Beth shook her head.
Laurel sighed. “Because I’d made sure there was nothing to take. I don’t know if that’s wisdom or just a warning.”
Beth thought about what her friend had said. “I don’t know what to do about Dave,” she said finally.