“What?”
“Fully understand the depth of your grief when you lost Garlan.”
“It’s been more than twenty years, Pam. I do understand the depth of my grief.”
“I know how long it’s been, Iris, and I beg to differ on the understanding part.”
Iris frowned. “Is it so wrong for me to worry that my son, my one and only child, wants to pursue the very occupation that killed his father?”
“No. Your concerns are warranted, considering what happened to Garlan. And it’s okay for you to feel angry, to a point, and somewhat scared of what could possibly happen. But…”
“I just knew you would throw in abut,” Iris said in a snappy tone.
“Yes, I do have a ‘but,’ Iris Michaels. At some point, you’re going to have to accept something.”
“Accept what?”
“That even after twenty years, you haven’t let go of losing Garlan.”
“That’s not true. I have gotten over losing him. It was hard. There were days I wasn’t sure how I would go on. That’s why I got grief counseling. I’ll always appreciate you for being my main support. Dad was just as torn up about Garlan’s death as I was. He was the son Dad never had. From the first, they gelled so well and enjoyed doing things together.”
“I remember.”
“Besides, I would not have begun dating again had I not been over Garlan.”
“Yes, you began dating, but look at the restrictions you placed on those affairs. You won’t let a man get past your living room. You have the ‘talk’ with them, letting them know upfront that the fling will be exclusive with no chance of becoming permanent. If a man were to present such a proposition to a woman, she would immediately know he only wanted a bed partner not a relationship.”
“And what’s wrong with that, if that’s what we both want?”
“But is it? You’ve admitted that Matt might want more. We both know Karlton did.”
Iris rolled her eyes. “Karlton might have wanted more, but he wasn’t anyone I knew I could fall in love with.”
“And Matt?”
Iris was glad they weren’t on FaceTime. Otherwise, Pam would see the way her features changed with that question. Just the mention of his name did things to her. It made her recall the nights spent in his arms and the countless hours of pleasure they shared. “Matt’s becoming addictive, Pam.”
“Is he?”
“Yes, and that’s the last thing I want to happen.”
Pam didn’t say anything for a minute. “Matt is a good guy, so in my opinion, he’s the one thing you need, Iris. I want you to think about that. However, for now, you need to come to terms with the possibility of losing your son. Not because he wants to be a stuntman, but because you don’t want him to live the life he wants. Only you can fix this, and you need to do so before it’s too late.”
* * *
Iris had taken the turkey out of the oven, cooked the mac and cheese, prepared the potatoes for the potato salad and placed everything on the counter to bake the apple pie when she heard the front door open. Garlan had been gone a couple of hours, and with night setting in, she’d begun getting worried.
She drew in a deep breath; her talk with Pam had helped. It was great having a best friend who genuinely cared about you, and wanted what was best for you. Pam had been that before she married Dillon, and since then, Dillon had become the brother Iris never had.
By the time Garlan strode into the kitchen, he’d been in the house a good twenty minutes. Had it taken that long to compose himself enough to confront her? There had never been a strain in their relationship before. He used to talk to her about everything. Granted, Dillon had been the one to talk to him about sex when he’d covered the topic with his own sons, and she’d appreciated that. For that reason, she hadn’t been too shocked when she’d come across a pack of condoms on the floor of Garlan’s bedroom that she figured had dropped out of his wallet.
“The food smells good, Mom.”
She glanced up and stared into the face that looked so much like his father’s it made her feel both happy and sad. Happy because he’d indeed been a gift left to her by her husband, and sad because seeing Garlan often reminded her of the man she had lost prematurely. A man she had loved so much.
“And everything I’m cooking is your favorite,” she said, glad he was no longer showing any anger. However, she knew they couldn’t skirt around what had happened to make them angry in the first place.
“Can I help you make the apple pie?”
