Page 14 of The Art Of Starting Over

“How old is your daughter?”

“She’s nine.”

“Does she go to OB?”

“First day,” she said.

Hayden smiled. “My son, Conor, started today. He’s nine as well.”

For the first time since she climbed into his truck, Devorah turned and looked at him. She didn’t smile. There wasn’t any light in her eyes. Hayden fought the urge to rub his thumb under her eyes.

“Your wife is probably wondering where you are.”

Hayden shook his head slightly. “She passed away six months ago.”

Five

Devorah

The rain continued as Hayden’s statement lingered in the space of the cab. Would death be easier? Would it be better to live with knowing your spouse had died instead of knowing he’d consciously crawled into bed with your best friend?

Devorah wasn’t sure.

The feelings she had—the broken heart, the longing, and the anger—would likely be the same, no matter what.

She stared out the window at the gray. The rain, the cloud cover, and the fog matched her mood. In the distance, the foghorn sounded, warning any boat or ship trying to navigate through the mess. It was unsafe, yet people would try. Even on the water, people had places to go and things to do. Fish, lobster, crabs, and oysters needed to be caught and brought in. Days off were rare.

Devorah turned and looked at Hayden, sitting there with his seat belt still on despite them being parked. He’d changed since she last saw him, thickened out and become more manly. She remembered him as tall and scrawny, and someone who had flirted with her and at times made her feel special. There was a time in her life when she thought they would become official, but Hayden never asked her to be his girlfriend.He led people to think otherwise, though, and he never dated anyone else until he left for college.

Then Chad took an interest in her, and everything changed.

Was Hayden one year or two years older than her?

She couldn’t remember, other than Hayden being best friends with Colt.

Somewhere in her room, she still had her old yearbooks. Later, she’d look through them and see what year Hayden had graduated.

He ran his hand through his sandy-blond hair. While short on the sides, the top had a bit of a curl to it, and Devorah wondered if the curls appeared only when wet or if his hair had always been wavy. For as long as she’d known him, he’d kept his hair short and sometimes even shaved.

“I’m really sorry about your wife.”

Hayden sighed and rocked back and forth. “Thanks.” He glanced at Devorah. She studied him. His face was tan, with the fine lines you’d expect to see at his age, but when she looked into his ocean-blue eyes, she saw sadness and hope, a life well lived, and worry. How could someone have so many questions and unknowns in his eyes? Devy turned away, unwilling for him to analyze her the way she had him.

“I hear Colt is running the Lazy Lamb,” Hayden said, breaking the silence.

“Have you been?”

“No, not yet. I meant to over the weekend but decided to lay low. I guess I’m not ready for the questions to start.”

Devy knew all too well what he meant. “Crow’s phone rang off the hook once people saw my car in the driveway. A few people came over, brought casseroles. Like they did after my mom died. He’s pissed.”

“At you?”

Devorah shrugged. “Maybe he’s gloating. I don’t know.”

“There’s a lot of pride in a man like him.”

“And his daughter is the laughingstock of the social media world.” Devy wiped at her cheek. “He doesn’t understand the whole vloggingthing, and I don’t have the patience to explain how people post stupid shit for likes and views.”

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