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“Where are you going?” I called after him, wishing he wasn’t shutting me out.
“I don’t know.” He disappeared down the hall, and I followed more slowly.
We were so new together I wasn’t sure how to handle this. Was I supposed to continue giving him space or try being more forceful? Would forcing him to talk to me accomplish anything?
I doubted it, so I wandered into the kitchen, looking for a snack, and found my mother-in-law seemingly doing the same thing. She was staring into the refrigerator as if waiting for something to strike her fancy.
“Hungry?” I asked, walking over to stand next to her.
“No.” She shook her head. “Bored, maybe. Frustrated. Sad.”
“Same.” I sank onto a stool at the island. “And Zeke won’t talk to me.”
“He’s brooding,” she said, coming over to lean on the island across from me.
“What do I do about it?” I asked. “He didn’t even come to bed last night.”
“Don’t let him get away with it,” she said firmly. “He’s strong and stubborn, much like me. That’s why we butt heads so much. But as his wife, you need to be firm with him. Stand up to him. Remind him that you’re his partner now, not some one-night stand or sexual conquest. The two of you made a commitment and he doesn’t get to decide when you’re there for each other. You need him now too. Strength and support go both ways.”
The thought of confronting Zeke intimidated me a little, but she was right. I couldn’t let him continue to be the one who was always in charge, always in control. Sometimes, he had to relinquish some of that to me. Otherwise, it would be a very lopsided relationship moving forward and an unhealthy one at that.
“I’ll give him a little time,” I said after a moment. “Just until the funeral. If he’s still acting like this, then we’ll talk.”
“Don’t let it go on too long,” she said. “Trust me. I’ve experienced it firsthand. Once he gets in a mood, it can take him forever to snap out of it. And your relationship is too new to weather that kind of storm.”
“Tell me about it.” I rested my chin on my palm.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry? I could whip up some quesadillas for us.”
I started to say no but changed my mind. “You know what? That sounds good.” I hadn’t been eating well and it seemed like she needed something to do.
“Great.” She moved to the fridge, pulling out some ingredients, and I went to the pantry looking for the mango-peach salsa I’d picked up last week before our lives went to hell.
“Are you cooking something?” Aunt Meg wandered in looking tired but interested.
“Quesadillas,” I told her. “You hungry?”
“I suppose I could eat.”
“Did someone say quesadillas?” Armand came in a second later. “I was just thinking it’s been a while since we had Mexican.”
Fatima laughed. “Everyone sit and I’ll whip up a batch.”
Armand and Aunt Meg settled around the island, talking as Fatima cooked and I got out plates, napkins, cutlery, and sour cream. It was a brief but necessary respite from the haze of grief that had permeated the house, and I was grateful for it.
If only Zeke had wanted to join us.
* * *
The funeral fell on a beautiful Southern California day, with the sun shining, low humidity, and a clear blue sky. It was hard to enjoy it, considering what was on the agenda. Today’s service was for close friends only, since Carter didn’t have any family. There would be something public for fans sometime next month, but this one was private and would be a relatively small, intimate affair.
I wore a simple sleeveless black sheath dress, with low-heeled black pumps. Zeke looked handsome in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie, his long hair tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. The baby was staying home with Zeke’s housekeeper, Valerie, so his parents were coming with us in the limo to the funeral home.
“I don’t think I’m ready for this.” Aunt Meg sniffed.
“There’s no way to be ready for something like this,” Fatima said sadly. “So young. So unnecessary.”
“He had demons,” Aunt Meg whispered. “The kind you don’t get over. The more we got to know each other, the more I worried. But I didn’t think he would do it on purpose. They ruled it an accident but him leaving those letters tells me something else.”
