“I thought so, too, at first. But I’ve played it over and over in my mind so many times since then. It felt good.” His gaze held mine. “It felt right.”
Attraction shimmered between us.
“It felt good.”
Moths fluttered around the light, tempting death. If I held out my hand, he would take it. We could go up together to the bed we had shared for thirty years, and I could feel that way again tonight.
Except... we weren’t twenty anymore. I was too damn old to sneak my ex-husband—husband—into my bed like a teenager smuggling her boyfriend up to her room.
I didn’t want Ashton in my house, in my life, disturbing my hard-won balance. Threatening my independence.
“I’m going to bed,” I announced.Alone. “Good night.”
He nodded, his eyes still on my face. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I went into the house, shut the door, and turned off the light.
CHAPTER 16
Beth
Amy stood in front of the fridge, muttering. “Three, four, five...”
I poured coffee. Black, two packets of Sweet’N Low. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at pictures.” The refrigerator doors were cluttered with family photos, magnets, lists, and artwork from the grandchildren. “Six. No, seven...”
“Are youcountingthem?” I asked.
“Mm. To see who Mom loves best.”
I looked. I couldn’t help it. The pictures were stuck up without any order or preference that I could see, candids from Jo’s wedding jumbled together with old family snapshots. There was even one of Dad, pushing a stroller with a very young Meg and Jo. He looked so happy, smiling at the person behind the camera. At Mom. My throat knotted at the reminder of the way things used to be, the family I’d never been a part of.
“Nine,” Amy said. “Based on the number of photos, the grandkids are winning.”
I laughed. “Because they’re young and adorable.”
Amy pulled a face. “We used to be young and adorable.”
“You’re still adorable,” I said.
In fact, she looked amazing, like the girl in a country music video, in a twirly sundress that was all wrong for farmwork and a fresh face it had probably taken her twenty minutes in front of the mirror to achieve.
“Yeah, but it’s more work now.” She pulled a carton of yogurt from the fridge. “Want some?”
My stomach cramped. “I’m not hungry.”
She tilted her head. “So keep me company.”
I wanted to be with her. To be like her. To be normal. “I guess... Sure.”
She flitted around the kitchen, preparing a pretty bowl of cut-up fruit, setting the table in typical Amy style, with folded napkins and the blue glass bottle from the windowsill stuffed with black-eyed Susans from the yard.
“How’s the great cleanup coming?” I asked.
“Know anybody who wants to buy some old furniture?”
“Not really, no.”
