My breath sucked in, and it was my turn to step back in shock. Surely she wouldn't hold that against me?
"You loved your wife, and that's a beautiful thing—truly. But I don't think you've properly dealt with the grief associated with that—certainly not enough to start seriously dating someone."
I could feel my cheeks redden as my heart picked up speed. "Maria –"
She held up a hand. "Please, let me finish. I gave you the floor to say your piece; now I need to say mine."
My mouth snapped shut, and I nodded my consent even though my body wanted to rail against her words and shut the conversation down.
"I did really like you, Brian. A lot. More than I'd ever liked a guy. But how you treated me at Da Vinci's was not cool. It was downright disrespectful and after everything I told you prior about wanting a relationship, it really hurt."
I ground my teeth to keep from interrupting. Her words filled me with shame, but I kept my composure neutral. She needed to get this out, and I had to finally respect her wishes.
"I understand that there’s a lot of emotion attached to the loss of a loved one, and I'm not upset that you're not ready to date me; I'm just pissed at how you went about it."
She licked her lips and took a breath before continuing. "Brian, I get that you want to try again, but the truth is, I have a lot of issues that I'm working through myself. I'm sympatheticto what you're going through and so I don't want to come across as callous when I say this, but I can't take on your issues as well."
Ouch.I flinched as if she reached out and slapped me. She tried to say it in the most diplomatic way possible, but Maria, being Maria, I knew she also intended to be blunt. Not to be cruel, but so in a way that there was no mistaking her intent behind the message: she didn't want to date me because she assumed I was not over Hannah. And I couldn't really blame her for that assessment.
What Maria didn't know was—my stupidity at Da Vinci's aside—she was the first person post-Hannah who made mefeel. More than the physical touch I craved to cure a widower's loneliness, Maria restored me just by being in her orbit.
"My late wife won't be an issue."
Her look was laced with pity. "If we start dating again without you addressing what you told me at Da Vinci's, then youaremaking it my issue. How do I know that something I say or do won't trigger a memory about her? That you won't start feeling guilty again and pull away?"
She took a step closer, and to my surprise, she reached out and grasped my hand. It felt warm, soft, and tiny in mine. I latched onto it despite the widening pit of dread and discomfort building in my stomach.
"As someone who is seeking help, I urge you to consider talking to someone about your grief before you're ready to start dating seriously."
Her words went in one ear and out the other as the finality of her statement sunk in. "Maria...," I implored, but I didn't know what to say.
She squeezed my hand. It felt clammy in hers. "Thank you for the flowers, but I can't accept them. Please don't send me any more stuff."
Then, to soften the blow, she lifted herself on her toes and pressed a kiss against my scruffy cheek. I resisted the urge to touch the burning spot. "You take care of yourself, Brian," she murmured. With one last look, she strolled to the open doorway and disappeared down the steps.
As if she was tethered to me, I followed her, only stopping at the door to watch her walk away, unsure if it would be the last time but praying it wasn't.
My men were gathered in a semi-circle a few feet away, their heads following her movements. Maria continued to walk with her head held high, uncaring that she had an enraptured audience.
I watched until her little car disappeared around the corner to join the traffic before reluctantly trudging inside, making sure to close my door so no unwanted nosey workers disrupted the peace I craved.
That didn't exactly go as planned, but it did go in a direction I hadn't expected. Maria bringing up Hannah floored me.
Six months after Hannah died, Diane offered me a number for grief services she’d found helpful after her husband's death. One she was utilizing again after losing Hannah. Therapy made me uncomfortable, especially since, by then, I’d already pivoted in a literal physical direction to deal with my loss. And ithadworked. Until it didn't.
I didn't want to lose Maria. We had something special. Special enough that it could lead to something wonderful. Going by her words today, I was relieved she felt it too. Or had felt it.
But I couldn't discount what Maria had said. On lonely nights when the memories became too much, I’d wallow in Hannah's unseen presence. Sometimes, I would take out the letters Sarah left behind and peruse their contents, tracing over Hannah's delicate penmanship. As strong as I felt my feelings werefor Maria, I couldn't guarantee that Hannah's death wouldn't overwhelm me at times.
If we start dating again without you addressing what you told me at Da Vinci's, then youaremaking it my issue.
I took my phone out and hit Diane's number.
"Hi, sweetie. How are you?"
"Hey, Di. I'm fine, thanks. How are you?"
"Oh, just fine. Did the boys get the orange chocolate chip loaf? Remember, it's for you all to share," she teasingly chastised.
