Today, I pause in front of it and look into her eyes, seeing her in a different light.
Like a weight’s been lifted off her, too.
I slip inside my office and exchange my winter coat for my white jacket. Then I sit at my desk and open my laptop to review a few case notes.
As I do, my cell phone buzzes. I grab my glasses and put them on, clicking on the message.
A selfie fills the screen. Rowan and Jemmy pressed cheek to cheek. Jemmy’s curls are a mess. Rowan’s smile is wide and unguarded.
Rowan:
Smiles for Daddy.
Warmth spreads through me, slow and steady. It’s ridiculous how something so simple can do that. I tell myself it’s because of how happy Jemmy looks. And that’s part of it.
But it’s not the only reason for this feeling that’s overtaken me.
A knock sounds, tearing my attention away from my phone just as the door opens.
Robert stands in the doorway, his analytical stare studying me.
“You seem…happy,” he says, as if the mere notion leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
I lower my glasses. “Just had a nice weekend.”
“Hmm.” He narrows his gaze on me.
He’s searching for something. Evidence of betrayal maybe.
For a flicker of a second, I wonder if he can see the truth on me. If he can tell the reason I’m so happy is because I got laid again. If he can sense I was unfaithful to his daughter.
But I wasn’t unfaithful.
Cora’s gone.
That truth used to feel like a blade. Now it feels like something else. Permission, maybe?
Or maybe I’ve finally reached acceptance.
“I spoke with the pastor,” Robert announces after a beat. “We’re arranging a service in Cora’s memory on the twenty-first of next month. I’ve reserved the function room at Holley Ridge for afterwards.”
I frown. “We just had her memorial. A week ago.”
His eyes sharpen. “January twenty-first is her birthday. Or did you already forget?”
The air in the room cools several degrees, the uneasiness I always feel in his presence creeping in.
I haven’t forgotten. He won’t let me. But I don’t say that.
“Is this really necessary?” I ask.
His face reddens, his jaw tightening. “Is it necessary to pay tribute to your wife? To honor her memory?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” I blow out a breath, briefly closing my eyes to collect my thoughts. “It’s difficult for the kids, especially Presley. If it weren’t for Rowan?—”
“I’m glad you brought her up,” Robert interjects. “This time, it’s for family and close friends only. No additional attendees or…plus ones.”
“Rowan isn’t an additional attendee or a plus one,” I say carefully. “She’s my kids’ nanny.”
