Page 11 of Until Then

“Something must have happened if you’re here and you’re planning to stay so long.”

She waves a dismissive hand, but the pain in her next words belies the casual move. “Just work stuff.”

Just work stuff, my ass. It’s much more than that, judging by this interaction, but if she doesn’t want to talk about it, then I won’t push her.

“Listen,” she shuffles her feet, “we can talk more about this later, I don’t want to invade your space or anything, but dinner is going to be ruined if I don’t get back to it.”

“You’re not invading my space. You’re fine to stay here as long as you want.”

Kicking her out would feel like leaving a wounded stray on my front porch and not helping.

“Are you sure?” She bites her lip, fingers wringing together nervously.

“I’m sure.” I doubt she can get into too much trouble in one summer.

My mouth waters when I’m once again hit with the delicious smell. “What are you making?”

“Enchiladas.”

I purse my lips, keeping my expression bland. “Interesting.”

Groaning, she throws her hands up in the air. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who only eats meat and potatoes.”

I shove my phone into my pocket and smirk. “What’s wrong with a good steak? Or a burger? I do like pasta, too.”

She puts a hand to her forehead. “You like beef. Is thatwhat you’re telling me? Thesedohave beef. You know, buried in the tortilla and spices.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” I’m not going to complain about a hot meal, especially one I don’t have to make. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to shower first.”

“No problem. I’ll get it plated up.”

With a nod, I bend down to take off my boots, and I swear I hear her mumble something like:“And try not to think about you naked.”

But when I look up, she’s gone. So I step out of my boots and set them by the front door. Even though it’s been over a year since Layla and Lili moved out, it still feels weird not seeing a pile of Lili’s tiny pink shoes on the mat. My kids thought I’d be thrilled to finally have the house to myself, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

My kids, and my granddaughter, are my life. It was inevitable, the day they’d move out and start their own lives, but the longer Layla stayed, the easier it was to convince myself it would always be that way.

The house is eerily quiet these days, like the life has been drained from it. A home is meant to be lived in and with the hours I work, my time here is limited.

Upstairs, I turn the shower on and take off my sweaty clothes. The house is small, so even from up here, I can hear Izzy singing along to some pop song.

For a minute, I let myself imagine that my wife is the one downstairs. It’s rare I let myself think about her anymore, as horrible as it sounds, because even after all these years, it still hurts. I moved out of the house we shared not long after she passed away because the memories there threatened to drown me.

But once in a while, it’s impossible to bury thoughts ofwhat life would be like if she were still here, if we were doing the things we always talked about.

With a shake of my head, I banish the thoughts and step into the shower. I wash thoroughly but quickly so I don’t hold up dinner, and once I’m clean and wearing fresh clothes, I feel a million times more human.

Outside my bathroom door, Izzy’s fluffy white dog greets me with an excited bark. I study him, then eye the door. I’m sure I closed it behind me, but it’s cracked open now.

“Did you sneak in?”

He wags his tail in answer, pink tongue hanging halfway out of his mouth, too damn cute for his own good. I pick him up, and he instantly cuddles into my chest.

Should I get a dog?

Immediately, I dismiss the idea. While it would certainly help with my loneliness, I’m not home enough to give a pet the attention it needs. Sure, I could scale back my hours, it’s my business after all, but I built it from the ground up, and Ilikeit. I don’t just want to manage my guys. I want to be on site working beside them.

“You’re just in time,” Izzy says when I pad into the kitchen. She sets two plates of food on the table.

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