“So, you didn’t tell us about your wedding to Dean. I actually had no idea that you did it here,” Libby said.
“I sort of forgot. Great wife, eh?”
“No, it’s just lovely. I’m glad you did.”
“And I heard you tell Dean you loved him multiple times. It was rather sickening,” Hope pointed out, handing her a fresh glass of wine.
“Ha, yeah, I guess. I just meant during our vows. I really blew it.”
“Wedding vows are overrated. It’s the day-to-day that counts. If my ex had said, ‘Hi, I’m gay, but I love you, and we’re going to have a great life,’ I might have been better equipped,” Viv said.
“True, Bret was a good husband, other than that,” Goldie added.
They spent the evening watching the water, laughing, and drinking wine. J.J. had let out something she’d been holding in. She’d faced something she’d been afraid of.
The tears terrified her, but shedding them today had helped. Her friends had helped.
Maybe being back in Irish Hills is okay. Maybe I’ll be able to do what I need to do without feeling awful.
Or maybe not. She had no roadmap for the trip she was on now. But there was a lot of comfort in her friends and the town that she loved.
Maybe I can be here without Dean, at least for a little while.
ChapterEight
J.J.’s day was going to start with D.J. She’d had a lovely time with her Sandbar Sisters. They’d offered a million different ways to help her and then did what she asked and stopped fussing.
She was not a fan of being fussed over.
They had given her love, support, and Nora House to land, and they’d given her wine and good laughs last night.
She knew she didn’t want to stay at Nora House, though. She had faced the memory of the wedding day and had a nice night’s sleep, but being here wasn’t much better than her own house.
She didn’t want to be at Nora House or her house with Dean.Where did that leave her?J.J. would have to tackle that later.
Right now, it was time to deal with D.J.
Libby was up and out early, doing what Libby does, which is to say, everything. Her friend had left a note and then left her to deal with her son.
J.J. headed to the construction trailer, wondering if dealing with D.J. would be like dealing with Dean back in their early days.
J.J. wasn’t worried about the trailer stirring up grief or memory. It was a relatively new development in Dean’s contracting business, the trailer. It had become a necessity after Dean’s business had boomed, thanks to the expansion of Irish Hills and Libby’s ongoing downtown renovations. That he had an “office” other than the front seat of his truck or the corner of the kitchen at their house was, to them, a huge milestone. They were practically moguls! That’s what they’d joked about. Watch out, world: Tucker Construction has an office trailer!
When Dean first started in construction, he did anything for anyone. There was no job too small. Someone needed a deck. He built a deck; a roof, he’d be there; a fence, he’d install it. Dean would take any job he could.
Irish Hills is small, and he was a kid back then, really. He’d gone from high school construction trade classes and what he learned from his dad to taking jobs.
A couple years out of high school, Dean earned an associate degree in construction tech. He’d just finished it when he met J.J.
He’d also just bought his first truck back then.
J.J. was so proud of Dean, how he’d built everything with his own two hands.
She drove downtown. The trailer had a semi-permanent space these days behind the row of buildings that were under various states of renovation. She loved that D.J. was trying to fill his dad’s Carhartt, but it sounded like the two men had more in common than she’d understood when she left on her “North American Grief Avoidance Tour.”
J.J. pulled up to the trailer. The logo for Dean Tucker Construction had been designed and painted onto the trailer right before the tornado. J.J. had been encouraging Dean to put some signage on his stuff. She thought it was good advertising. Dean pushed back on the idea.
“I don’t need to advertise. I’ve got more work than we can get to right now,” Dean had said.
