I stand over the sink rinsing the carrots and stare into the pretty twilight. The sky above our small backyard is pristine and clear—a gorgeous blue. I find my mind drifting back to the blue eyes of the man in my salon.
Phantom.
What an odd name. It must mean something, but I didn’t have the energy to think about it at the time. He was massive—far taller and more muscular than his long-sleeved shirt revealed. Now that I’m home and alone, without the noise and chaos of the salon, thinking about his thick thighs in those dark jeans… I’d actually have to be dead not to notice how attractive he was. I mean, there’s no denying where his daughters got their stunning blue eyes.
I spin away from the sink and grab a cutting board. I’ve got to work out some of this energy. Is it horniness? My God, it’s been so long since I’ve been with another person. I don’t think I’d even remember how.
After losing Michael, I went completely empty. As a newly single mom of a toddler who could hardly make it an hour without crying, I mummified my heart, wrapped it up tight just to survive the pain. Of course, I locked down my body too.
But something about Phantom has me intrigued. I shake my head, a small smile on my face. He’s obviously not a regular salon client himself. He doesn’t look like the type to pamper himself. I imagine he either cuts his own hair or has a girlfriend do it, because of course a man who looks like that has a girlfriend. He must.
A wave of guilt and sadness washes over me. It’s not as if I think Michael would expect me to stay single forever.
As I chop the veggies for Jax’s soup, I try not to think about how amazing it would be to have a partner. Someone who could rub my back, help with the chores, or even just talk to me while we make our sick son soup. No matter how long Michael has been gone, the longing for a partner to share this with—the good and the bad—never goes away.
There’s no instruction manual for how to live your life after that life falls apart. Divorce is hard—God knows so many of my friends have lived through thetrauma of a relationship ending—but I’m the only woman I know who was a widow with a two-year-old in her twenties.
I’m confused why I keep picturing Phantom’s thick black hair, the beard that covered a wide, strong jaw, and his dazzling blue eyes. I’m lonely, sure, but before I can scold myself for thinking like a hormonal teenager, my phone rings. My heart catches for a minute, and I wonder if it’shimcalling me.
Oh my God. I must stop this.
I answer the phone just for something else to think about, and thankfully, it’s my sister. I put the call on speaker while I finish making soup. We catch up about her symptoms, and I make myself a cup of tea. I tell her about her new client and how she almost stiffed us for three services.
She sounds as drained as I feel. “Good God, Pop,” she groans. “I can’t even with people sometimes. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to deal with it, or maybe it’s better that I wasn’t.”
My sister is nothing if not honest. It could have been an ugly situation if Clara had been there. I love my baby sister, but I thank my lucky stars it was me who ended up dealing with Shayla today.
“It was fine,” I assure her. “The girls’ dad came and took care of it. Problem solved.” I don’t tell her about how attractive Phantom was, though. For some reason, I want to keep that detail to myself. “Do you have what you need? I’m making Jax soup if you want a delivery?”
“With noodles?” She makes a yum sound into thephone. “If I didn’t know how shitty your day was, I’d beg you to bring me some. I’m good. Just tired and sore from coughing. But if you make extra and have the energy tomorrow, I won’t say no to a care package.”
“Deal. Love you, sis. Drink lots of fluids.”
We say goodnight, and I mentally calculate all the things I need to do. Thinking about the growing list makes me so exhausted, I sit down for a second and rest my head in my hands, and I sip my tea to steady myself.
I’ll get through this just like I have every other thing over the last eight years.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
4
PHANTOM
“So,what do you girls drink? Juice?” Stella is behind the bar, sounding confused and looking nervous. She bites her lip and motions behind her. “We have milk back in the kitchen.”
I head back behind the bar and pour myself a cup of coffee because I can’t start my day without it. “They’re teenagers, Stel, not aliens.” I lift a brow at her, and she shrugs but doesn’t look any less terrified.
Letting the kids have a sleepover at the compound on a Saturday night threw a wrench in the usual drinking, drugging, and fucking that takes place here. But one look from me silenced anybody who might have had any complaints.
After catching up with Savage about the rest of the job, I spent the entire night in my room, watching movies and eating pizza and popcorn, listening to my girls laugh, gossip, and complain.
I’ve never been happier.
God, I love my kids. Other than a few tense calls tomy lawyer, the night couldn’t have gone better. And thanks to a very successful deal, I’ve got the funds to make sure, this time, everything goes to plan.
“I don’t know for sure, but I heard from Sarah that Tyler and Kiernan are both in my homeroom.” Holly’s voice is low as she looks down at her phone. The girls are sitting on barstools pulled close together, so Daisy barely has to lean over to peer at Holly’s phone.
“Tyler’s in your homeroom?” Daisy asks. “Isn’t he a senior?”
