Page 108 of Someone to Watch Over Me

He pushes himself up with his arms and is off the bed with the speed and agility of a cheetah. “I can do quick.”

I remember when Jim could move like that. It makes me sad that I rarely think of him as he was when he was healthy.

I’ve heard several of my widow friends talk about the insane push-pull of grief, balancing the life we had with the one we’re building now, and how the most innocuous thing, such as a strong, virile man pushing himself up and out of bed, can trigger an avalanche of painful thoughts.

Rather than dwelling on those thoughts, however, I choose to focus on the fact that Tom feels strong enough to push his way out of bed like that, especially after we got busy four days before he was supposed to. I wish I could ignore the pang of worry that has my stomach aching as I join him in the shower.

He insists on washing me while he kisses my neck and gives my breasts extra attention.

By the time he’s finished with me, I’m quivering with desire that I don’t have time to deal with right now.

“Rain check, baby.” He gives me a soft, sweet kiss. “Go see your friend. I’m gonna shave.”

22

Lexi

I’m not sure I trust my legs to carry me out of the shower and into the closet to put on a pair of sweats and one of his Hammett Homes zip-up sweatshirts. I love the deep burgundy color and might have to keep this one for myself. I’ve got coffee going when the doorbell rings.

I dash down the stairs to greet Joy.

She comes in smiling and dressed to the nines in her work clothes. She’s the most well-put-together woman I’ve ever known. Every detail is impeccable. Her nails and lips match her sapphire blue blouse and heels. “How do you manage to look like you just stepped off a Hollywood set so early in the morning?”

“Baby, it’s almost eleven. I’ve been at it for six hours already. Not everyone can loll around in sudden unemployment, you know.”

And she makes me laugh as I lead the way upstairs to the kitchen and the blessing of coffee to wipe the fog from my brain.

“Sorry to barge in on you and Mr. Terrific,” she whispers. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“You didn’t. Last night, you might’ve.”

“You jumped the gun!”

“I feel so guilty for letting him talk me into it.” I pour coffees for both of us and grab the half-and-half from the fridge. “Not that he had to expend much effort to get me on board.”

“Screw guilt. How was it?”

“Sublime.”

“Oh damn.” She fans her face. “You’re gonna get Mama Joy all hot and bothered just thinking about it.”

“How’s your new man?”

“He’s becoming a problem.”

“How so?”

“I like him more than I want to.”

I laugh again. What a delightful—joyful—way to start the day. “Do you hear how stupid that sounds?” I love how it feels like we’ve known each other all our lives and can say any damned thing we want to each other without any worry of offense.

“Girl, of course I do. It’s maddening, but I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came to make a confession to you, my sweet friend.”

I have no clue what she’s talking about, but her smile tells me whatever it is isn’t bad news. “A confession? About what?”

“I did something underhanded, unethical and borderline illegal, but for a very good cause.”

“You’re gonna have to fill in the blanks for me, pal.”

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