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I nod and cup her face. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want you. Trust me, you wouldn’t believe how much I think about it.”

Her eyes brighten. “Really?”

“Really?” I place a chaste kiss on her lips. “Now, I’ve got to get out of this bed before I have to rely on my willpower again. It’s running in short supply.” I groan and pull away, rolling out of bed and adjusting myself before heading to the bathroom.

Once I’m done, I return to the bedroom and find Collins where I left her.

“What do you normally do for breakfast? Are you a coffee-only kind of girl, or do you like a full spread?”

“Depends on the day, but I usually just have coffee and a bowl of cereal.”

“Coming right up. Any preference on the cereal?”

She smiles, and damn, do I like being able to put that smile on her face even when she’s dealing with so much bullshit. “Surprise me.”

“One coffee and one surprise cereal coming right up.”

I head downstairs and get the coffee going, then search through the cupboards until I find the cereal. The entire time I prepare Collins’s breakfast, the feeling of this is how it could always be steals over me.

I still feel like a shitty human being for the fact that I’m falling for my best friend’s widow, but at the same time, I’m angry as hell at him for what he was doing behind Collins’s back. And if he’d told me about it while he was alive, I would’ve told him what a piece of shit he was being.

After last night, I’m more protective of her than ever. Which is why I can’t tell her about the job interview in Portland. If anything comes of it, I’ll tell her. She doesn’t need my shit on top of her already overflowing plate.

THIRTY-THREE

Collins

Two days later, and I’m still reeling. It’s so strange to think that there’s a piece of Caleb out there.

Now that I have confirmation that he was having an affair, I’m going back through my memories with a different lens. Yes, things weren’t perfect between us, and I was feeling lonely in my marriage, but I didn’t think he was so unhappy as to have an affair. Or maybe the affair was why I became so lonely—he was already pulling away?

I realize that I could go around in circles with all my theories. At some point, I’ll have to stop and just try to move forward with my new reality.

I haven’t looked at the phone again since that morning. Haven’t been able to bring myself to see those ultrasound pictures again.

I did call Nina and fill her in, though. She was as shocked as I was and had more than a few choice words for Caleb. She doesn’t seem to feel the same kind of guilt that I do speaking ill of a deceased person.

For my lunch break, I decide to visit the Birdhouse Bakery and grab myself a treat. I think I deserve to eat my feelings away. I’ve earned it. I’ll be at yoga tonight, so it will all work out.

I walk over to the bakery from where I’m parked on Main Street. Even in the winter, the pink exterior and blue-and-white striped canopy exude springtime vibes. Birdhouse Bakery is written in gold lettering on either side of the robin’s-egg-blue bakery door.

The bell above the door chimes, making me flinch. It’s probably the sixth time I’ve flinched at something today. My central nervous system is in overdrive, and I’m on edge.

The bakery case at the far end is painted the same color as the door, and I walk past the handful of small tables to have a look.

Deacon is behind the counter, wearing his usual white apron. He doesn’t look like the kind of man you’d expect to own a bakery—six foot four with a barrel chest, a gray beard, and hands like catcher’s mitts. He used to be a long-haul truck driver until he discovered his talent for baked goods and pastries after knee surgery.

“Morning, Collins.” He crosses his arms and says nothing more, waiting for me to take in what he has available today.

“Hey.” I give him as much of a smile as I can muster.

Deacon doesn’t say anything else, which suits me fine.

I take in the glistening pastries and read the little chalkboard signs—Dottie’s Secret, Roy’s Reliable, The Ansel (proceed with caution), and more.

“Take your time,” Deacon says and turns around to go back to icing something behind the counter.

I’m contemplating what to get when the door chimes behind me.