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She thought about that for a moment and laughed again. “It sounds like it.”
They had a wonderful meal, and at ten, as he prepared to leave for the fire station, and she was ready to get into bed, they said goodnight.
“Thank you for the best pre-Thanksgiving dinner I’ve ever had,” Devon said. “That pie was amazing. I’ll be burping cinnamon for the rest of the night.”
“Thank you, too. I’m not going to have to cook for the next three days.”
“We’ll have to shop again for Friday,” he said, bending down to scratch Tilly behind the ears and murmuring to her, “Night, old dog, night.”
There was a moment of silence, like being in a vacuum. Finally, he straightened up and looked at her. “Goodnight, Aisling. Thank you again.”
“Thank you again, Devon.”
He left, waving from the porch. She was alone.
***
Friday morning, Aisling woke up before Devon got home from work. The darkened room confused her at first, so she pulled the curtains aside and saw that the mountaintop had poked through the marine layer of fog. The surreal feeling of floating on top of the clouds made her smile. She grabbed a hoodie and pulled it on over her sweatpants.
“Come on, you two hooligans,” she called to Tilly and Ralph. “You let me sleep in! Good boy and girl!”
Dashing outside, the excitement over the fog had effectively banished the memories of waking up crying in the middle of the night. Missing Mike was getting worse instead of easier. She burst into tears at the slightest thought of him. While she stood outside, looking at the fog swirling around her, she could hear an engine straining to get up the driveway. It was about time for Devon to get home. His presence wasn’t really helping her lately, and she didn’t know why, thinking that his companionship and his love for Mike would make life happier.
“Hey, there you are,” he said. “I have loot.”
He held up bags of food from their favorite coffee/breakfast place.
“How about this fog?” she asked, gesturing around them.
“It’s really bad down in town. Zero visibility. I’m glad I’m not on call today.”
The unsaid implications echoed as they walked silently into the house, the dogs following.
“How was work?” Aisling asked, wondering why the sudden awkwardness.
“It was quiet. Three days of cleaning equipment. The new kid cooked and it was terrible, hence the stop at Coffee Heaven. I got you a sausage biscuit.”
The smell of the food wasn’t cutting it, and her mouth filled with water. Taking a deep breath didn’t help the nausea, and she backed away.
“I’m feeling a little queasy,” she said. “Maybe just coffee this morning.”
He handed her a sugar-free caramel macchiato with sugar-free vanilla syrup, her favorite. She took it and, just as she raised it to her mouth, gagged.
“What the hell?” she screeched. “I must be coming down with something.”
Devon quickly took it from her and smelled it, just in case the cream was sour. “Go lie down and I’ll bring you tea instead,” he said, sipping her cup. “It tastes okay.”
On the couch, she pulled a crocheted blanket over her body and nestled in, Tilly getting in the crook of her knees and Ralph lying on the floor at her side. Handing her the remote, Devon went to the kitchen and put the tea kettle on to boil.
“I hope you’re not getting sick,” he said. “There’s something going around for sure.”
“I’m around sick people all day, so who knows? I hope I don’t ruin our weekend.”
“We can veg. That’s the best thing to do anyway. I’d be a hermit if it weren’t for you. Or a recluse. Which is worse?”
“They’re not better or worse,” she said, giggling as she aimed the remote at the television. “We’re reclusive hermits.”
“Okay,” he said, placing a cup of tea with a plate of crackers in front of her and then getting into his recliner, the foot going up with a click. “We’re in position.”
