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“I’ve had some bad nights.” She lifted her whiskey, tapped her glass against mine, and gulped a few swallows. At this rate, we’d both be drunk by the end of dinner.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. Losing them both.” Since we were apparently sharing our entire fucking life history, I asked about Jeff because she’d said their marriage had been over before he died. “Were you headed for divorce?”

She smacked her lips. “We were. I just didn’t know it. I thought we had a fairytale love story.” Her jaw tightened. “No one thought we would make it. Teenage pregnancy. Married too young. But we both got our degrees. We had our little family. I thought we were happy. I guess we were happy until we weren’t.”

She pushed her gnocchi around on her plate then took another big swallow of whiskey. I stood, grabbed the bottle, and since I was going to be here for a while, I gave us each another generous splash. It was a good night not to be alone. “The whiskey will keep us from getting cold.”

She slid from her stool, carried our plates to the sink, and carefully grabbed two of the jar candles. “There’s a fireplace in the living room.”

I grabbed our drinks and the bottle and followed her.

As we passed through the dining room, I glanced at the papers on the table.

“That’s a story for another night,” she said.

I wanted to ask her if there would be another night because tonight had been more than I’d expected. A beautiful woman, delicious food, smooth whiskey, and even though the conversation had been pretty fucking heavy, it felt good to just sit with her.

She set one candle on the glass end table and the other on the fireplace mantle. “I don’t spend much time in this room.” A massive leather couch stretched across one wall, and there was an oversized recliner in the corner.

Dark crown molding surrounded the room and matched the built-in bookcases. Thick rugs covered the floor. Unlike the modern chef’s kitchen, this room reeked of old money.

She squatted in front of the fireplace. “It’s hard to live here,” she said as she glanced around the room. “I hate this room. Actually, I hate this house. I hate living with Jeff’s ghost.”

I wasn’t surprised she didn’t like this room. She was too young for the kind of shit she dealt with, but she was soft and feminine, and this was steeped in old traditions.

I crouched down next to her. “Let me.” I leaned into the fireplace, reached up, and opened the damper. Chopped wood and kindling filled a copper tub next to the fireplace hearth.

Jaymi sat on the thick rug next to me with her knees bent and watched me build the fire. Flames licked the kindling. I grabbed another log and carefully laid it on the smoldering wood.

“Were you a boy scout?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “No. Definitely not a boy scout, but I’ve started a few fires.” I smirked. “I’m not an arsonist. I just like a bonfire in the hills, a blunt, and a night under the stars.” I scooted back from the fireplace and sat next to her. “If you hate living here, move.”

Flames flickered along the popping and sizzling log. She wrapped her arms around her shins. “I can’t.” Her gaze met mine. “Because Matti’s here, too.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Jaymi.” I stood, grabbed our drinks, and rejoined her on the floor.

“Me, too. It’s hard because my anger toward Jeff is mixed in with my grief over losing Matti.”

I stretched out my legs and reclined on one elbow. Radiant heat from the flames permeated the small space around us. “Why did you stay married if you were unhappy?”

It had gotten late. The world was black outside the windows, but the rain had become a steady soft downpour.

“I wasn’t unhappy. I didn’t know my marriage was in trouble because I was too busy with Matti and teaching. I always felt like I had something to prove, mostly to his parents. Jeff was destined for greatness, and I was determined not to be the stupid girl who cost him his future.

“I didn’t know he was unhappy until after he died. Eventually, I would have left him. He had skeletons that weren’t going to stay in the closet.” She stared into her whiskey.

After a few silent moments, she continued. “Sometimes, it feels like yesterday that my phone rang with an unlisted number. I almost didn’t answer. But I worried it could be one of my parents or someone from the school district.”

Firelight caught on the delicate angles of her face. Whether from the fire or the whiskey, a soft flush tinted her cheeks. Moisture glistened in her eyes. “I can still hear the officer’s voice. There had been an accident. A serious one. He’d told me that I needed to get to the hospital. He couldn’t tell me they were gone, but I felt it. He wanted to know if someone could drive me. I said yes, but there was just me.”

“Jesus.” I raked my fingers through my hair.

“Once I got to the hospital, the officers were there. They took me to this little room. I waited alone until the doctor came in with one of the officers. I remember I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to hear what they were saying.

“Jeff and Matti had been hit head-on. An older man had gotten disoriented and was driving in the wrong direction. He wasn’t going fast, but my husband drove a little Mercedes coupe.” Her voice lowered. “Matti shouldn’t have been in the front seat, but they were only going a couple of miles. She’d been with her grandparents for the weekend. She died on impact. Jeff died in the ambulance on route to the hospital.”

I had to touch her. Not that anything I could do would mitigate whatever fucked up misplaced guilt she had. “I’m not going to tell you how to feel.” I ran my knuckles along her arm. “I don’t think you could find a parent who hasn’t broken a few seatbelt laws with their kids.”