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“I meant, I can do that on my own. Can I get used to being here? Please?”
“My son. The one who always wants to do things in his own time.”
Allen winked at his father. “You taught me that. Remember?” He headed for the front door.
“Just like you to throw that back in my face.”
“Goodnight Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too, son.”
The sounds of Motown accompanied him inside his truck on the way home. Rubbing his chin, he drove home with one hand on the wheel. The night’s events flashed in his memory.
His mouth went dry despite bobbing his head to the music. Pulling into his driveway, he cut the engine, ready to call it a night. His phone buzzed and he knew without picking up it was Desmond was calling. He didn’t blame his cousin or Morgan. They meant well and wanted to see him happy, but dating was not a priority.
Chapter 3
“Just a few more steps Mrs. Weiss,” Allen encouraged his seventy-three-year-old patient. Her knee recovered well after her surgery and she was a trooper during her exercises. The curtain framed windows let in natural light. He smelled the potpourri mixed with the furniture polish. A noise chugged in the background. Was it the washing machine?
“Are you sure you’re not trying to send an old lady back to the hospital?” she asked, quirking a thin eyebrow at him. She dragged her feet forward the last few steps to her sofa, and then Allen helped her settle back on her couch.
“I’m sure Mrs. Weiss, but you did great today.”
“You really are a handsome young man,” she said with a wide grin.
Allen chuckled. “I won’t tell your husband that.”
She waved away his comment. “Oh, please. There’s a Christmas party tonight at the Sawyer’s. You should go.”
“I’m still getting settled into my place Mrs. Weiss, so I won’t be able to.”
She planted her hands on her hips while sitting. “Not go? Son, how old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
She pointed at him. “You need to enjoy yourself and live your life while you still can. Don’t wait until you’re older and need a cane to walk around.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Is your wife going crazy with the decorating?”
Allen’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of Crystal since finalizing their divorce. “No ma’am,” he replied to Mrs. Weiss. “Divorced.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m sorry. I should bite my tongue. I assumed.”
Allen twisted at his ring finger, though nothing was there anymore. All he had left was the letter she left on their breakfast table eighteen months prior. He cleared his throat as he gathered his things to leave. “That’s alright. I’ll see you next week okay. Take it easy.”
She nodded. “I will.”
He proceeded out the door and paced to his car. Crystal. Her name brought memories that stung like a dagger to his chest. After two years of marriage, he thought for sure they had their whole lives ahead of them with happiness waiting in their future.
They were happy at first, but Crystal’s high maintenance lifestyle and career motivations took a toll on them. Then the fateful day came. He lost twice that night and it left him heartbroken.
It wasn’t until he had returned home to their ranch-style house in Houston, Texas, that a note in scripted handwriting crushed his world.
I can tell you’re a good man, but I can’t change what happened. I’m sorry. I can’t.
Crystal
