“If she has any questions is there a number where she can reach you?” Liam asks from beside me.
He’s been here almost every day, making sure I go through one more thing on my list. Hell, he even made the list. I don’t look at it though. I get up and make sure everyone is fed. I can’t worry about all this other crap because it doesn’t matter. Well, I guess this part does. I’m not working yet and have no income coming in. I need to take care of everything, but I keep worrying about functioning. Then Liam comes in and makes me handle it all.
“Sure, here’s my card. Mrs. Gilcher, once we get the forms signed, the sooner we can get the money moved over. It’s imperative we get this process started. A lot of time has already lapsed.” He hands me the card.
“Thank you, Mr. Popa. We’ll be in touch.” Liam shakes his hand and walks him to the door.
I feel him sit beside me and he pulls me against him. I take the comfort he offers and lean into him. “This will get easier, right?” I ask.
Of course no one knows. Even the wives who lost their husbands tell me it does and yet it doesn’t. Amy lost her husband last year in a firefight and she said every day she wonders how she gets up and breathes. Jillian said the only way she finally felt human again was when she got rid of almost anything Parker touched, but I can’t do that. Making it like he never existed wouldn’t make my pain go away. But handling all the death paperwork and dealing with putting him to rest . . . this is what hurts.
“I’m not sure,” Liam replies honestly. Thank God for that. He never lies to me or tells me what I want to hear. He gives it to me straight and yet is never hurtful. These last two weeks I’ve come to rely on him more than I ever thought possible. His friendship means the world to me.
“Yeah, me either.”
“Why don’t we get Aarabelle and go do something?” he suggests.
I gaze into his blue eyes and see the excitement. He’s been here every day for the last two weeks and has done nothing but care for me in some form or another. Here is this single, very good-looking man who has put his life on hold for his best friend’s widow.
“You don’t have to babysit me. I’ll be fine.”
His mouth falls slightly slack. “Am I bothering you?”
“No!” I exclaim. “You’re a single guy. You don’t need to be spending your time with me.”
“Shut up. You’re loads of fun. I mean, where else could I get to meet a woman who’s not trying to get in my pants?”
I burst out giggling. “Happens often, huh?”
Liam tilts in conspiratorially, “Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been known to break a few hearts . . . and beds.”
“Breaking beds because you’re a fat ass doesn’t count.”
His face falls and he looks genuinely affronted. Next thing I know, he tears his shirt off and every ridge and ripple in his skin is on display. I’ve known him for years, seen him in a bathing suit more times than I can count, but there’s something different in this moment, but I’ll never let him know.
“Fat? Show me!” he challenges me.
I stand and poke his side. “What, you don’t giggle like the doughboy when I poke you?”
Liam laughs, “I don’t think you should joke about poking, Lee.” He smiles and grabs his shirt.
“Why do you make everything dirty?”
“Because I’m a guy,” Liam says like it should be obvious. “I’m going to go for a run and a couple hundred push-ups since you think I’m fat.”
“Ohhh, don’t cry . . . it happens to everyone when they hit that age,” I joke and it feels foreign. I’ve forgotten this part of myself. I find myself laughing more and more, reminding me of the person I used to be.
Liam turns and eyes me cautiously. “Let’s pretend you didn’t call me old and fat in the same minute.”
“Pretend away . . .” I trail off and saunter into the kitchen. Before I reach the door, I glance over my shoulder to see his reaction. He stands there stunned with his mouth agape. I grin and proceed forward, leaving him there.
“I’ll show you fat,” I hear him say under his breath as the door swings closed.
I stare at the countertops across the kitchen. The trace of a smile lingers on my lips when a part of me starts to hurt. The part that thinks it’s too early to feel okay again. Shouldn’t I hurt and be sad? It’s only been six months. Then there’s the other side of me that says It’s been six months already . . . live. Aaron wouldn’t want me to be alone. He wouldn’t want me to be sad all the time.
“You got any coffee?” Liam asks as he yawns, walking into the kitchen.
“Do you know who you’re asking?” I say laughing. I get the things out and pour him a cup. “I’m a single mom. Coffee is my drug of choice.”