I roll my eyes as I pick up my handbag. “I’m already dreading it.”
“Eep, I’m so excited.” She flaps her hands around and rushes out of the office.
“We going?” Gabriel asks.
“Yeah. I’m not feeling sushi, though.”
“Fine.” He holds his hand toward the door. “You choose, but make it fast. I’m about to faint.”
“Okay. Let’s go over the details,” Marley says as she sips her drink.
I nod as I take a bite of food. We are in a restaurant having lunch. It’s the day before I leave for my conference. “Your bags are packed.”
Marley gets out her diary and begins to read from her list.
“Uh-huh.”
She ticks the first checkbox on her list. “Hair done—tick.” She continues going through her list. “Appointments cleared,” she mumbles to herself as she reads through her list.
I keep eating my lunch, totally unexcited about the next week.
“Oh.” She frowns and looks up at me. “Did you get laser?”
I roll my eyes.
“There are a lot of hot opportunities at these kinds of conferences, Claire.”
“Are you kidding me?” I stare at her deadpan. “You want me to go to this conference so I can get laid?”
“Well.” She shrugs. “Why not?”
“Marley.” I drop my knife and fork with a clang. “Sex is the very last thing I want. I still feel very married to one man.”
Her face falls, and she puts her pen and paper down. “But you’re not, Claire.” She takes my hand over the table. “Wade died, honey. Five years ago now . . . and I know for a fact that he wouldn’t want you living alone forever.”
My eyes drop to the plate of food in front of me.
“He would want you to be living life to the fullest . . . for both of you.”
I feel a lump in my throat begin to build.
“He would want you to be happy and cared for . . . loved.”
I twist my fingers together on my lap. “I just . . .” My voice trails off.
“You just what?”
“I just don’t think I’ll ever move on, Marl,” I say sadly. “How could any man ever live up to Wade Anderson?”
“Nobody will ever replace him, Claire. He’s your husband.” She smiles softly. “I’m just saying go on a few dates. Have some fun . . . that’s all.”
“Maybe,” I lie.
“You need to take your wedding rings off and put them on the other hand.”
Tears instantly threaten at the very thought.
“No men are coming near you because they think you’re married.”
“I’m happy with that.”
“Wade’s not. And when he finds someone that he thinks is worthy of you, he will send him. But you need to be ready.”
I stare at my beautiful friend through tears.
“He’s still with you. He will always be with you. Trust him to watch over you. You need to let him go, Claire.”
My eyes hold hers.
“You didn’t die in the accident with him. Live while you can.”
I drop my head and stare at my plate on the table, my appetite suddenly diminished.
“I’m going to book you for some laser this afternoon.”
I pick up my knife and fork once more. “They’re going to need a machete. I’ve been rocking the full-bush vibe.”
She giggles. “Yeah, that mess has got to go.”
I pull my car up and stare at the house in front of me.
Our house.
The one that Wade and I built together—the one we planned on getting old in.
Our small patch of paradise on Long Island. Wade was adamant that his children grow up in a semirural area. He grew up in New York City himself, and all he ever wanted for his children was a large patch of land for them to play freely on whenever they wanted.
We bought a block of land and built our home. It’s not flashy and fancy. It’s made of weatherboard and has a large veranda around the edge, a big garage, and a driveway with a basketball hoop. Four bedrooms, two living areas, and a big rustic kitchen.
It’s so Wade. At the time we could have afforded much better, but when it came down to it, he wanted a country home filled with laughter and children.
And that’s what we had.
My mind goes back to that early morning when the police knocked on my door.
“Are you Mrs. Claire Anderson?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so sorry; there’s been an accident.”
The hours that followed were monumental and painful. They are so clear in my mind—the way I felt, the words I said, what I was wearing.