“Your pasta good?” Shaun asked, gesturing at my barely touched meal.
I nodded. “I forgot how large the portions are here.” I could already feel the tummy bloat from too many carbs.
He raised his eyebrow. “Are you planning on taking some of that home?”
“Probably. Why?”
He shook his head. “My wife used to do that.”
I blinked, my brain sorting through the few facts I knew about Shaun, and I realized I knew about his wife. Enough to know that he was a widow, anyway. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not your fault.”
“I’m sorry you miss her.”
That made him shrug. “Thank you for that.”
“How long has it been?”
“Three and a half years.”
I nodded. She must have died about the same time Summer’s husband had passed. That had been rough on Summer, she’d been a wreck after. As I watched my dinner companion, I wondered if he was a wreck inside too.
How losing his wife had to tear him up.
Because one didn’t just watch idly by when that shit happened.
“She fought hard, but cancer’s a mean fucker,” Shaun said.
I nodded again, words stuck in my throat.
Ugh. Cancer’s a devil.
Sure I could turn on the proper, businesswoman, salon manager mode where I say all the right things and do what I can to make Shaun feel comfortable, but I had a feeling he wasn’t interested in that.
Hell, I wasn’t interested in that.
His gaze met mine, a twist of pain knotting behind them. “You ever lose someone to cancer?”
“No. Just choices.” The words were cold on my tongue, hard and angry.
Probably because I was angry.
I had always held some frustration and anger over the things in my life I couldn’t control.
He blinked and raised his eyebrow.
I didn’t speak right away. Part of me wondered if I should because my losses don’t even come close to qualifying as real, compared to his.
“Choices?” He prodded.
Fuck. “My husband chose to be a douche. My father chose to let us leave. My kids chose to move in with their douchebag father. I lose people to choices.”
“How come no one ever chose you?”
“Would you choose the cold?”
And in that second, I saw it.
