Page 31 of This Wild Heart

So fucking ridiculous and I fought the urge to cover my eyes so I didn’t have to see it.

“Yeah,” he said, a rough edge to his voice that was also not fair. Apparently, he had a whole lot of unfairness about his genetics, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it, given that I was married to his ass.

With our dinner in the oven, Parker made his way over to my side of the island, bringing his muscles and his very nice smell with him. His height made it easy for him to stand slightly behind me, my chin coming just above his shoulder if I were to turn and look at him.

I didn’t. Thank God, I’d retained a tiny shred of self-preservation.

He pulled up Sheila’s number and hit the button to do a FaceTime. When he released a heavy sigh, I couldn’t help it. I turned my head, just a slight tilt of my chin, and our eyes met.

“It’ll be okay,” I told him.

Him? Hell, I was telling myself, and I even managed to believe it.

Sheila’s voice interrupted the moment, and I exhaled quietly when she picked up.

“Hi honey, I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.”

Parker smiled at the camera. “What are you up to? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Goodness, no. Just heated some leftovers, and I’m about to watch my shows for the night. Your sisters have been out of control today. Greer keeps texting me about the strangest things. Poppy thought she was in labor, but by the time I got to her house, she swore up and down she was fine.”

Parker’s eyes closed briefly, and I could tell he was fighting a smile. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“What are you up to? You don’t normally call me like this when we didn’t plan to talk.”

His gaze darted toward me, and I smiled. His eyes dropped down to my lips, and son of a bitch, my belly did a fucking backflip.

“I have something to tell you, Mom. I hope you’re sitting down.”

Chapter 7

Sheila

After Parker and Anya said their goodbyes, I set the phone down on the couch and stared blankly at the wall for a few moments.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

Married.

Parker was married to that beautiful blond woman who made him smile so big at Adaline’s wedding. The story they told was a sweet one—a whirlwind night, an impulsive decision because they couldn’t stop themselves once they reconnected. A wild, romantic leap, something that neither of them expected, but they werehappy, they told me. My mind spun like a top, and my hand fluttered up to my chest to make sure my heart wasn’t about to jump straight out.

It was too late to go to the cemetery, which I liked to do a couple of times a month. It wasn’t because I couldn’t talk to my husband while I was home, but something about being there and seeing his name just made it feel a bit more real.

Instead, I turned on the couch and stared at the framed photo of Tim that I kept on the end table. With a shaky hand, I picked it up, my thumb tracing over the version of his face that I liked to remember best—when he was healthy and tan, those smile lines spreading out from his eyes, and laugh lines bracketed his smile.

“Honey, you are never going to believe this,” I said quietly. “But those damn kids keep thinking they can fool us.” I shook my head. “How many fake spouses do they think they can pull from thin air before they give me any credit at all?”

I laughed before I could stop it. Laughed long and hard, even though the sharp pain of missing him was just underneath that laughter.

I set the photo down, and my thumb tapped on the edge of the frame.

Next weekend, those two would be under my roof.

“A couple of years ago, I might have let this one go,” I said. “Sit back and watch it play out, and hope that boy pulls his head out of his ass. Not this time.”

I imagined what Tim would say if he were here.

Don’t you dare meddle, Sheila.

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