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Saturday morning, Devon sat at the side of his bed, cradling his head in his hand, moaning. Tilly sat next to him, watching accusatorily. When he was sure he could stand without passing out or barfing, he did so, slowly. Looking down, he saw that he was still dressed in jeans and a black western shirt. In the light of day, with a bad headache, he could see the shirt had been a horrible mistake. What had possessed him?
Out in the public spaces of the house, everything looked too bright, too open. Wincing against the light, he saw low clouds. The view west was ostensibly nonexistent. It felt too cold to sit out there with coffee. Checking the time, he was shocked to see it was well after noon.
Feeling around for his phone, it wasn’t in his pockets. Back in the bedroom, it was on the floor, facedown. Picking it up, he saw that Aisling had called him three hours ago, but hadn’t left a message. He sat back down on his bed and hit the call-back button.
“Hey! What’s up?” she asked, jovial.
“Nothing yet. I have a hangover. What’s going on there?”
“Aw, I hope I didn’t drive you to drink,” she said, giggling. But then she realized that her comment might have hit home, and she immediately wished she could take it back when he didn’t answer right away.
“I ran into Lila at Ben’s,” he said, hoping she’d think the very worst of it. “My usual one White Russian segued to a few more. I’m must not be used to it.”
“Plus with your injuries, maybe not the best thing to do,” she admonished, thinking about Devon and Lila, trying not to imagine her big boobs in Devon’s bed.
“I’ll live,” he replied, not wanting her advice at that moment. “So did you want anything?”
“You called me,” she said, picking up on his attitude.
“I’m calling you back.”
“Right. No, I didn’t want anything specific. Just to say hi. So hi.”
“Back at you.”
“What are you going to do today?” she asked.
“Probably nothing. I might actually stay in bed for the rest of the weekend.”
He hoped it didn’t sound like he was feeling sorry for himself, but then he decided he didn’t really care.
“I’m sorry, Devon,” Aisling said, finally backing down. It was clear he was hurting and she was being mean.
“You have nothing to feel sorry about,” he said. “I was looking forward to us being together too much. The best thing you could have done was leave. We both need to move on, and what better time than now.”
Cringing, Aisling couldn’t believe that he’d nailed it. She had been using him as a crutch, and he was taking it the wrong way. Now what?
“Well, I am truly sorry. You really helped me get through the first month without Mike. If you feel used, that wasn’t my intent.”
“I don’t feel used at all. I did what I thought Mike would have wanted. Having you close by made it easier for me. I probably used you as much as you feel you used me, so we’re even.”
“Thank you again for everything,” she said, a sense of freedom sneaking it. It hadn’t occurred to her that a friendship with Devon would prolong her grief, but perhaps that was exactly what it had done.
“Goodbye, Aisling,” Devon said, and hung up without waiting for her response.
He’d do the exact opposite of what Aisling was going to do; he’d clear out all of their stuff from his parents’ room. It was time to take possession of the Lion’s Den. It was his house; he’d take over the master bedroom.
After showering (and throwing the western shirt in the trash), he got busy, forgetting to drink coffee or eat anything first. He got boxes from the garage and placed items belonging to Aisling and Mike into them, taping and labeling them, and returning them to the garage. He stripped the bed and decided he’d get a new mattress, too. It didn’t take long to remove their things, placing clothes in trash bags, labeling them clearly so the cleaning people didn’t throw them in the trash.
Wandering through the house and yard, he removed anything that smacked of Mike and Aisling. He wanted to get over them, never wanting to think of either one of them again. The pain was beginning to subside.
Chapter 8
Summer
The rose section of the Botanical Garden was among Devon’s favorite places. The scents were enough to drive him batty. He loved all the colors and varieties, but roses were too difficult to grow up on his mountain, so once a year, he took the time to drive into Carlsbad on his day off to walk the paths and get his rose fix. He was bending over to smell a huge white blossom when he heard his name.
