Page 41 of For Fox Sake

“How was your visit with your mom today?” He settles onto the couch beside me. “We didn’t get a chance to talk about it while we were hiding in the closet, but when I was fixing the light in the bathroom she seemed?—”

“Off. I know. She has more and more bad days.”

Then the words tumble out, more than I intend. It’s like he’s some kind of magician or wizard or something, able to draw thoughts and feelings from my being without my conscious assent.

In a rambling mess of thoughts, I explain how Mom became more alert and suddenly snapped out of her bad day with more clarity, but then she also hallucinated seeing Mia.

“It’s a lot to deal with,” he commiserates.

“It is. No one tells you about having an elderly parent with a debilitating disease. How it’s like skating on ice. The sun is hot overhead, making the ice thin slowly beneath your feet. It’s only a matter of time until it gets fragile, and you’ll fall through... but even knowing what’s coming, you can’t leave. You’re stuck there, waiting for the inevitable crack. Oh, and you don’t actually know how to skate. After a while, you wish it would open up underneath and you could fall into the icy water and be done with it.”

He reaches over, resting his fingers over mine, his thumb brushing the thin skin on the back of my hand.

I swallow hard and take a drink of my juice before continuing. “I miss her. I know she’s still here, but it’s not the same. I miss who she was before she got sick. She was invincible. After Dad died, she picked up the pieces of our lives. Even though Mia was in and out of hospitals constantly, she always made everything, even the hardest moments feel not so bad. She could handle anything. I can’t even handle a leaky sink. Sometimes it’s just so hard.” I drag my gaze to his eyes, warm like dark honey.

He watches me, face unguarded, gaze direct. “Fuck.”

I almost smile at that. “Yeah. Basically.”

“So, you had an intense visit with Mom, then you almost ran into the prick of the year.”

“Yep. To top it all off, Ari was pretty cranky this afternoon. I would have kept her at the day camp, but they closed early today and Priscilla had already scheduled some time off.” I take a sip of juice from the champagne flute and set it on the table beside me.

“Do you ever take a break?”

“No.”

He’s silent for a moment, considering me. “Have you gone out with anyone since Shane?”

“Nothing more than a few crappy dates. I don’t have time, but also, I don’t want to bring anyone important into Ari’s life unless I know it’s serious.”

“That makes sense.”

His normally animated expression is carefully flat.

Insecurity grips me, heat rolling up my face.

And of course I open my mouth and ramble. “It’s not that I don’t want to date, but it’s hard. I’m not exactly tripping over eligible bachelors in a town that is large enough that you can run into your ex every other day, but still date people who don’t realize you have a kid and freak out about it.”

His brows dip. “People freak out about you having a kid?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s hard enough to be single. But with any kind of baggage? Forget about it.”

He shakes his head. “People are assholes.”

I really don’t want to talk about my nonexistent love life. “What about you? Break a lot of hearts in Whitby?”

He chuckles. “Hardly. You definitely aren’t alone with the lack of prospects. After my sister died, dating was the last thing on my mind.”

“Of course. And then you took care of your dad.”

He leans back, his hand lifting from mine. “Yeah. After that, I spent most of my free time at a bar. I met women there sometimes but,” he blows out a breath, “it was never anything serious. The memories are hazy, and I wasn’t ready to be anything to anyone. I haven’t been on a real date at all since I’ve been sober. My therapist said I shouldn’t even think about relationships until after a year of sobriety.”

I rub a water spot on the stem of my glass. “How long have you been sober?”

“A year and eight months.”

“Wow. Good for you.”

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