David’s mind went immediately to Eve, to the way she’d said she was staying at the Christmas Inn.
He shook it off. “Yes, of course. My calendar is clear.” He glanced at Milly. “As far as I know.”
“Yup,” Milly nodded. She handled both their business schedules, keeping track of jobs and invoices with the kind of precision that suggested she’d done far more complicated work in another life. “You’re free except if Margaret’s boutique floods again.” She sighed. “She really needs to get those pipes updated.”
“She said she will in the new year,” David told her.
They chatted for a few more minutes about the Anastasia Island job, about the work Dan had lined up, about whether the weather would hold through New Year’s.
Finally, Milly stood and stretched. “I made stew for dinner if you want some.”
David’s stomach rumbled at the thought. “I won’t turn that down.”
“We’ll bring it around later,” Milly said, collecting the empty beer bottles.
David watched them head back to their cabin, Chaos trotting after them like he couldn’t decide which human to shadow.
He grabbed his toolbox and headed inside.
The cabin was cool and quiet, the way he liked it. Simple furniture. Clean lines. Nothing unnecessary. He set the toolboxin the mudroom and headed straight for the shower, stripping off his work clothes and stepping under the hot water. David heard Chaos trotting inside and then the scrunch of his bed as the dog lay down.
David relaxed into the spray, his mind filled with images of Eve Reynolds. The surprise in her eyes. The flush on her cheeks. The way her hand had felt in his, small and warm and real.
It had been so long since he’d felt that pull toward someone. That awareness. The excitement that zings through you.
He shut off the water and dried off, pulling on clean jeans and a flannel shirt before heading to his bedroom.
His eyes fell on the picture sitting on his dresser.
A beautiful woman smiled at the camera, her dark hair pulled back, her eyes bright with happiness. Beside her stood a small girl, serious-faced and curious, chin lifted in that way children have when they’re trying to look brave.
David’s heart ached.
He picked up the frame and ran his thumb over the glass, over the faces he’d memorized a thousand times over.
His wife. His daughter.
Who were both lost to him.
Guilt crashed over him, sharp and sudden. What was he doing thinking about Eve Reynolds when these two faces were the only ones that mattered?
“It’s been a long time,” Milly’s voice said from the doorway.
David turned, startled. He hadn’t heard her come in.
“You should wear a freakin’ bell,” David muttered.
“I knocked, but there was no answer,” Milly said, stepping into the room. “I came to see if you’d fallen asleep.”
David gave her a tight smile and glanced at the picture again. “Time seems to move slowly when you lose people you love. You think the more time that’s passed, the easier it gets...” He ran his finger over the frame. “It doesn’t. You learn to live with it and ignore it, but it slowly eats away at your soul each day.”
“I know what you mean,” Milly said, walking into the room and giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “That’s how I feel about losing the only family I had, not too long after you lost yours.”
Their eyes met in common pain.
Milly picked the photo up and turned to him. “David, you shouldn’t have this...”
“I know,” David nodded and took it from her. “I’ll put it away.”
