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"It's fine, it's fine," Tasha says. "How about...what if I take Alex tonight and you just have some time to yourself? It sounds like you could use it?"
I nod, feeling grateful for the offer. "That would be amazing, Tash. Thank you."
"Of course," Tasha says, giving my hand a squeeze. "You know I'm always here for you."
I manage a small smile. "I do. And uh...I'm sorry for teaching your daughter bad words."
Tasha laughs softly. "She's learning all kinds of words lately. And don't you worry--I'm sure she'll be back to 'love' in no time."
Chapter twenty-one
Sam
Anightinisexactly what I needed.
Alex has definitely been able to tell that I've been in a funk, and it's nice to have a second to breathe. I know he's safe and happy over at Tasha and Chance's house, I'm sure having a wonderful sleepover and eating lots of snacks.
Better than hanging out with his mopey, depressed mom, I guess.
Alex was only a year old when his dad passed away, but I think it gave him an overstated sense of when I'm grieving. He's been a sensitive kid ever since; he always seems to know when I'm upset, and he goes out of his way to be sweet to me.
Two mornings ago, I woke up tohimmaking pancakes, like it was the pancakes I missed and not Evan.
That one hurt.
I pour a glass of red wine and I sit down on the couch for some much-needed R&R, sighing as I pick up the remote. I land on some fantasy movie from the '80s and I settle in to watch it, remembering that there was a time when I loved stuff like this.
I spin my wedding ring.
What would David want?
I haven't really thought about what he would say about this situation, but he was always the one I went to for advice. Never about sleeping with another man, of course...because David was my husband, that would be weird and wrong.
But he was also my best friend.
"What should I do?" I whisper to the empty room.
Get over it,the negative voice in my head says.
I've just picked up my wine again when a knock comes at the door, prompting every single one of my dogs to lose their fucking minds. I frown and look toward the door, a little spooked. It's late, and I'm not expecting anyone.
But the knock comes again.
I stand up and pad over, the wine glass still in my hand and my cell phone in the other as my dogs crowd around me. If it's some creep, I'll have the cops here in a heartbeat, and I'm not too scared given that I've got five pups ready to go to war for me.
But it's not some creep.
It's Evan.
He's standing on the stoop, wearing the usual t-shirt and jeans with an added bouquet of daisies. His hair is messy as always, his beard more unkempt than it was a week ago. He looks up at the peephole as I peer through, and I get paranoid that he can see me.
"What should I do?" I ask the room again, my voice quiet.
There's no answer.
"Sam, are you in there?" Evan calls from the other side of the door.
"Damn it," I curse. "David...you should really answer me."
