Page 24 of From Rivals to I Do

“Sure is,” I say as the TV flickers with each press of the button. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier by the way. That was her sewing room.”

“No need to apologize,” Mitch insists.

“She liked to make quilts and such and sell them at the farmer’s market. She was just starting to really get going online but then

Emmett Gaines took that all away.”

“Did they do anything to him?” Mitch asked.

“No,” I reply, my jaw clenching as a streak of anger rises up, and I take a deep breath before I go on to quell it best I can. “He was the

sheriff’s son. I’m sure you can guess how that played out.”

“Ugh, disgusting,” Mitch replies, and a deafening silence fills the room for a while as I settle on an old John Wayne movie. We watch it

for a while, and I try my best not to think about the feelings the conversation has drummed up.

The sadness, the anger. The rage I’d felt when I’d nearly catapulted over the barrier in the courthouse when they’d given that little jerk

probation, rehab, and AA meetings. All while my beautiful wife lay six feet under. Unlike Emmett, Mel would never get a second

chance. But money and who you know seems to speak loudest. At least, that’s what I’ve come to learn.

“You know, I don’t want to step on your toes,” Mitch says. “But have you considered that maybe what you need to do is let loose and

move on?”

I shoot him a look of surprise. He’s just lost his wife himself, so why would he suggest something like that, knowing how I feel?

“No, never,” I say.

“But you said Mel would want you to be happy, right?” Mitch asks.

“Well. . . yeah,” I reluctantly agree.

“A friend suggested this app for me, it’s called Love and Company,” Mitch says. “It’s not just for dating, you can make friends on there

too. . . I’m not ready, but I mean, it’s been a decade. I’d just hate to see you live the rest of your life lonely, Eli. Especially after all you’re

doing for me.”

“I don’t know, I just think I’m better off alone,” I reply. “I mean, Melanie was the love of my life. I could never replace her.”

“Of course not,” he says. “But I do know one thing, it’s not healthy for a man to grieve forever. You deserve happiness.”

“I am happy,” I insist, which is mostly true. “I miss Mel like the dickens, but I have four boys that love me, and I see most of them often

—except Robert. He went off to California to be a personal trainer, trying to rub elbows with the stars I guess. But I’ve got the farm, the

animals. . . I’m content.”

“But there’s still that hole, right?” Mitch asks, and I’m not sure how to answer his question. There is one, but I don’t think just anyone

can fill it, nor do I think some app is going to magically solve it either. “Listen, my friend did find someone else on this thing after his

wife died.”

“I’m not really into computers, Mitch,” I reply with a shrug. “Not my forte. The only thing I use a computer for is my emails, business

---