Page 32 of Finding Forever

Dave looked at the fireplace instead of his friend. He’d talked to Beth about everything. Things that didn’t matter and things that mattered enormously. Mostly, though, Dave remembered how easy it had been.

“We had a good time,” he said.

Hank turned to Dave. “And that’s an issue?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. I’m waiting for you to realize it.”

Dave brushed another layer of dust from the stone. “Beth said something at lunch that’s been stuck in my head. She said what she misses about marriage isn’t the important occasions. It’s having somebody around for all the ordinary parts.”

Hank’s expression softened.

“I knew exactly what she meant,” Dave continued. “Carol and I didn’t spend thirty-four years having romantic dinners and taking vacations. Most of the time we were paying bills, mowing lawns, taking Mark somewhere, or deciding what to have for dinner.”

Hank nodded. “And arguing about whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher.”

“It was always my turn,” Dave said quietly.

“Smart woman.”

Dave smiled. Then his smile faded. “I could imagine doing those things with Beth.”

There was the truth of it. Not some sweeping romance he wasn’t sure he even knew how to have anymore.

He could imagine Beth sitting at his kitchen table while he cooked. Her coat hanging beside his. Her telling him he’d bought the wrong kind of milk and reorganizing something in his kitchen because his system made no sense. The images came far too easily.

And he wanted them far too much.

Hank picked up a small pry bar and began removing a strip of timber still attached to the stone. “So, what’s the problem?”

Dave stared at him. “You know what the problem is.”

“I knew what it was a few weeks ago,” Hank told him. “I’m not sure I do anymore.”

Dave rested his hands on his knees. “Carol and I had nearly four decades together. I knew how to be her husband. I knew when she wanted advice and when she wanted me to keep my mouth shut. I knew what made her laugh and what would annoy her before I’d even done it.” He shook his head. “With Beth, I don’t know any of that.”

Hank blew some lose mortar away. “You aren’t supposed to.”

Dave frowned.

“You’re talking as though there’s going to be an exam.” Hank pulled the timber free and tossed it onto the scrap pile. “You’re getting to know a woman, Dave. That’s all.”

“It doesn’t feel like that’s all.”

“No,” Hank told him. “Because you care what happens.”

Dave couldn’t argue with that. He crouched beside the hearth and examined one of the loose stones. “I nearly kissed her after the council meeting.”

Hank went completely still.

Dave looked up. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Hank stepped away from the fireplace, then reached for a small chisel. “I was going to ask why you didn’t kiss her.”