lettuce was crisp enough, the parmesan shavings fresh, the croutons crunchy. But the dressing? Not homemade. I had to tell Liam that.
“Do you miss clay?” Edward asked, but I wasn’t letting him get off the hook.
“Are you still in touch with Adam Walker and Tim Brown?” They had been his closest friends back when we were married. Likewise, I had been close to their wives—at least, until the accident. I understood that people didn’t know what to say when something as tragic as that occurred. But the truth went beyond headlines and shame. Those women had kids. I did not. The largest part of what we had shared was gone. We drifted apart.
“Nope,” he said. “Not in touch. Says something about the quality of the friendship, y’know.”
“That it was convenient.” Certainly with those women, I realized now.
“Circumstantial. Shallow. But, hey, I withdrew as much as they did. After you left, I kind of, just, sheltered in place.”
Shelter in place was a concept usually associated with mass casualty events. Lily’s death hadn’t been that. But it had been every bit as tragic, every bit as life changing. My chest tightened remembering that.
“But you,” Edward said, “you’re still in touch with clay. Do you ever think about going back to what you used to do?”
Pressing my fingertips to my breastbone, I took several breaths. When the tightness eased, I said, “Not now. I’m happy doing makeup. I like my friends. I like my home.” I paused, thought, said, “And I love my pets.”
He seemed puzzled. “Why didn’t we ever get one?”
Then and there, I wondered it, too. “I don’t know. We talked about it. But it was always a some-day thing. Maybe if—” If Lily had lived. I didn’t have to say the words for Edward to hear. I could see it in those silver-blue eyes.
Telling myself to move on, I swallowed and forced a smile. “Lily wanted a rabbit.”
“She had a dozen rabbits.”
“Not real ones.” I poked at my salad. “I thought having a real one would be too messy—pellets and cages and all. I mean, what’s the point of having a pet if it’s locked up nine-tenths of the time?” My eyes held the salad. “I should have gotten her one.”
“We were busy.”
I looked up. “Too busy to make a little girl’s dreams come true?”
“Little girls can’t have everything they dream about.”
“Oh, come on, Edward. We’re talking about a rabbit. How much work could one little rabbit have been?”
He let that one float, and took another bite of his sandwich. “Okay. We were too wrapped up in ourselves.”
Feeling the start of stone inside, I tried to conjure a calming image—a gurgling stream first, then snow-capped mountains. When neither stuck, I studied one of the oils. But four frightened foxes fleeing dogs didn’t do it for me either. Seeking an alternative, my eye inadvertently skimmed over cartons that were tucked in the corner, half-hidden until you looked. Though the flaps were open, only corners of things showed. I couldn’t see if they were books or picture frames, but my gut said they were personal items, not the calming I needed.
So I thought of my own Hex, Jinx, and Jonah. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a pet. They add a lot. It’s about unconditional love.” Which children gave, too. Which wasn’t a safe thought, either, but that didn’t prevent my middle from feeling the warmth of little arms. I sat straighter, but the arms only shifted to my neck, allowing the weight of a small body to curl in my lap.
“Do you think about her much?” Edward asked in a quiet voice.
My eyes flew to his. Off-limits! Not why I’m here! But my mind was already in the danger zone, and my silent screams didn’t erase the feel of her arms.
He must have seen my panic, because he said a quick, “Okay. Tell me about Nina Evans.”
Breathe, I told myself. Breathe slowly. A minute later, I was able to say a surprisingly calm, “Nina.” The name brought me the rest of the way back.
“She calls every day,” he said. “She keeps asking me how it’s going—the job, the house, settling in—and can she do anything to help. The first time, I thought it was a Welcome Wagon thing. But she keeps calling, like she’s waiting, like there’s something I’m supposed to do back.”
Well, there was a distraction. Amused, I stared at him, arched a brow, waited. When he said nothing, I tried, “And you can’t figure it out?”