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He’s on to me.
“Fine. I have a breakup playlist I can send to you in Krew’s next report card.”
“I don't want breakup songs. I want love songs.”
“A love song playlist?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Why do you need love songs?” The last thing a widower should want to listen to is cheesy love songs.
“So that I have something to look forward to.” Tyler smiles in his easy way, casually showing off his dimple.
I cannot send this manlovesongs.
“I have aShe’s Deadplaylist you might like better,” I blurt.
A deep rumble of laughter bursts out of him. “Is that what it's called?She’s Dead?”
“Yes.” I bite back my smile. “You know, because my mom’s dead.”
His features soften as his eyes sweep across my face. “Is that what you do? You sit and listen to sad songs when you’re sad?”
“I guess so.”
“Does it make you feel better?”
“No, it’s like taking a knife and stabbing it directly in my heart and then twisting it all around.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“I don't know. I guess I like…the drama of it all.”
His smile morphs into something serious. “I understand.”
I can see the sadness in his eyes, even though he’s putting on a good face, and I instantly hate myself for making him feel bad. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up that subject.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. I talk about Kristen all the time. But I do think I'll pass on yourShe’s Deadplaylist. Thank you for the offer, though.”
“Probably a good choice,” I say.
“Who’s ready to go fishing?” a tall, lanky man says as he pops his head around the board.
Tyler and I stare back at him with blank faces.
“We’re here to relieve you,” the man says, pointing to the woman next to him.
Is it wrong that I’m disappointed?
Yes, Meg. It’s wrong.
We give our chairs up to the couple and walk across the lawn. Dozens of kids with bags of prizes and candy run past us.
I point to the right. “I’m supposed to go volunteer at Tic-Tac-Toe.”
“And I should find Krew. It was nice talking to you, Miss Johnson.”
“Same to you, Tyler.” I give a small wave and turn to leave.
