Page 58 of Just a Heartbeat Away

“No, maybe, I don’t know,” Muriel repeated, pursing her lips. “How eloquent.”

Seb chuckled so that he wouldn’t roll his eyes at his mother-in-law. “I mean, it’s not for the same reasons as it used to be. But every time I make progress and move on a little more, I get so sad.”

He could feel Muriel’s eyes on his face and a familiar feeling of dissection gripped him. Cora had been able to do this, too. Just look at him and peel back the skin from muscle, the muscle from bone. Cora had said it was easy with Seb because he was such a big, innocent target. His dumb, blunt face showed every emotion. He stopped pretending to go line by line through the bill on the screen of his laptop and looked up at Muriel. The second their eyes clashed, she was back concentrating on the toaster.

“I don’t know why that should make you sad. You’re supposed to move on after someone dies.”

She was being obstinate. But if she hadn’t been, Seb would probably have plunked her in the car and raced her to a neurologist. “Right. But sometimes moving on feels like leaving her behind. For a long time, grief felt like my only connection to her. And...” he swallowed hard “...a part of me doesn’t want to lose that, too.”

Muriel’s back was ramrod-straight as she attacked the toaster with fresh vengeance. Seb read through her lines, a skill that had been extremely hard-won, and realized that she understood what he meant, even if she’d never admit it. Muriel looked up at the backyard through the window over the sink and suddenly banged on it so hard the glass shook in its boots.

“Art!” she hollered at her husband through the glass. He and Matty were playing in the backyard. “Put down the newspaper and untangle your grandson’s pants from the fence!”

Whether Art heard her through the glass or not, Seb wasn’t sure, but he watched Muriel eye the backyard for another few seconds before she resumed her scrubbing. “Just another pair of pants to mend along with the khakis he ripped the pocket off of,” she muttered to herself.

Seb sighed, turning back to his laptop. Conversation over, he supposed.

Muriel finished with the toaster and set it back on the counter, snapping off the rubber gloves and rinsing them, laying them out to dry. She immediately checked the roast in the oven and started dismantling the fridge for salad fixings. “Well, that’s just silly,” she said into the vegetable drawer.

Seb’s hand froze over the keyboard. “I’m sorry?”

“Feeling regret that your grief is receding is silly. And a waste of time. You should be grateful.”

“Well—”

“And of course your grief isn’t your only connection to Cora. You have your son. And you have all of your memories of her.” She slapped a bag of romaine on the counter and didn’t turn around. “And of course you have Art and me.”

Seb was momentarily stunned into silence. The Sullivans had been an amazing support after Cora had passed, taking charge with Matty on so many occasions. But Seb had never exactlybondedwith them. He’d always felt like a presence they’d tolerated in order to have access to their grandchild. When Cora had been alive, he’d barely exchanged more than pleasantries with them on either ends of their visits.

Yet, here she was, referring to herself as a connection.

“Do you...” he almost didn’t ask “...think of me that way? As a connection to Cora?”

“No,” she answered so firmly that Seb felt immediate tears of reaction tighten behind his eyes. Damn, the woman was harsh. “But you remind me so much of Matty, and Matty reminds me so much of Cora, that, well, I guess it’s all just one thing a part of the next.”

She was describing...family. Seb blinked at her rigid back, the perfectly knotted apron and the dyed blond hair, white at the root and tucked into a crisp French twist. She thought of him as family?

“Muriel,” he started, testing the waters. “If I remarried, would you keep coming here?”

“If I were invited,” she answered stiffly. He couldn’t see her face but he could hear her lip curling.

“Of course you’d be invited.”

She said nothing. Not for a long time. Seb had already gotten sucked into a few work-related emails when she spoke up again.

“So, that’s what it is then. You’re conflicted because you have a woman in your life.”

“Oh—”

“Well, that’s silly, too. Of course you should have a woman in your life. Matty needs a mother figure.”

Again, Seb was stunned. He wished to heck that she’d just turn around already but he knew that was never going to happen. “You’d be all right with me finding someone?”

“Of course,” she scoffed, like it was a waste of breath even to ask. “If she were a worthwhile person. Had a firm hand with Matty. If she wasn’t dreadful, naturally I’d be all right. I don’t expect you to be a widower forever, Sebastian.”

“Well...” He cast around for what to say next. It was a conversation that had about forty different threads he could follow. “It’s not imminent. I—she’s not available. And she doesn’t even know I have feelings. It’s just something I need to get over. I’m sorry I’ve been moping.”

She was quiet again for a while. All while she dressed the salad and brought the roast out of the oven. She was slicing bread when she spoke again.

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