Page 87 of The Art of Dying

I relaxed as she took the pan from my hand and took a whiff. “Your red potatoes?”

“Pan roasted, just the way you like them.”

Her eyes rolled back. “You’re so good to me!”

“I’m glad it’s your favorite,” I said as we walked in. “It’s the easiest and fastest side recipe I have.”

Gina set the pan on the table and then called to Grant that we’d arrived.

“Hey!” he said, bringing in a plate of steaks and burger patties.

Gina kept a highchair for Emily, and while I got the kids’ hands washed and butts settled into their seats, Gina made them plates. She even cut Emily’s burger in half. There were plenty of single moms who weren’t as fortunate as me, who didn’t have neighbors who were paid very well to keep an eye on them, who helped with the kids and the house when needed—which was beyond the scope of their job description. I got lucky with Grant and Gina, and I knew it, so when I was feeling down, I kept it to myself.

It wasn’t rational. I knew that Grant and Gina wouldn’t judge me for grieving my previous life or think verbalizing my feelings meant I wasn’t grateful for their presence in our lives. Talking about it would only help. Burdening anyone else with my sadness or complaining about the situation we were in didn’t feel right, though, because even after all the time that had passed, I still felt at fault.

“You made a happy plate, Wes!” Gina said, standing.

She picked up everyone’s empty plates and brought them to the kitchen, despite my protests.

“I’m getting the kids some dessert, anyway,” she said. “Who wants cake and ice cream?”

“Me me me me meeeee!” Dylan yelled, holding up his hand as high as he could.

“Karen,” Grant said quietly, peeking back at Gina to make sure she was preoccupied. “Can you grab a gift box in the bedroom for me?”

I tried to stifle a grin, matching his volume, “So, that’s what tonight is about. We get to witness you surprising Gina with something?”

He chuckled. “It’s tough to surprise her.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I said, standing. “Grant, can you keep an eye on the kids? I’m going to pop into the restroom.”

“I can,” he said, rubbing Dylan’s back. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Chock oh lit! Chock oh lit!”

“Calm down, buddy,” I said with a laugh.

I crept down the hall, praying Gina and her super-secret agent spy ears didn’t notice that I’d opened the bedroom door instead of the bathroom. But instead of a present for Gina, it was a present for me.

Kitsch was standing in the middle of their dark bedroom, a tearful smile on his face. “Hi, honey.”

chapter twenty-four.

Kitsch

Mack gasped and covered her mouth, tears already streaming down her cheeks.

I closed the door quietly behind her and took her into my arms, pressing my cheek against her hair. “I missed my girl.”

She shrugged out of my grip and threw her arms around me, squeezing me tight. “Oh my God,” she whispered over and over.

I leaned back, cupping her face in my hands. She looked different than the woman I fell in love with, the woman who haunted my dreams almost every night, but she was still beautiful, looking up at me with the same green eyes I remembered. I closed my eyes just long enough to kiss her, instantly feeling at home.

With my thumbs I wiped her cheeks, and we smiled at each other.

“What… what are you doing here?”

“I’m on my way to Quincy. Got a lead.”

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