Page 195 of The Woman Left Behind

I knew that already, down deep in my heart.

But damn.

I loved this man.

“There may be a lot of kids, and they can get excited, and you never know what kids are going to do, especially when they’re excited, so I think that’d be awesome if you could do it,” I replied.

“I’ll put it out on the bulletin, and we’ll get some fliers made up so your neighbors know they’ll be blocked in or out, so they need to plan accordingly,” he muttered.

Yep.

I seriously loved this man.

“Can you rig some speakers so we can play some Halloween noises?” I requested.

“I’ll figure it out.”

Of course he would.

I gave him another kiss.

It was meant to be a swift one, but Harry leaned into it, rolling me so my back was to the couch, and he was on top.

And Michelle Dietrich, her husband, son, Snickers, Twix, cider and a Halloween décor war slipped my mind.

All I had room for was Harry.

And all he had room for was me.

FORTY-EIGHT

The Natives Are Restless Part II

Lillian

It happened four days later when I was in the backyard with the dogs.

I had two tennis balls I was throwing. Lucy and Linus were chasing after them and bringing them back.

Smokey wasn’t a fetch kind of dog. He was sitting next to me, watching his brother and sister going for it.

I was doing this at the same time looking at the leaves all over the ground and remembering Harry’s edict that I was not to rake them. He told me he’d do it on Saturday.

I’d noted he seemed very evolved, what with his stellar clothes-folding and vacuum-pushing abilities, but there were some things Harry had strict gender role rules about.

For instance, even though I’d been raking my own leaves for years, now, he’d let me help him rake them, but if he came home to the leaves being raked, he would not be happy.

We wouldn’t fight. Harry wasn’t a fighter. He was a discusser.

That said, he didn’t have a problem with sharing what didn’t make him happy.

I could remember maybe two fights my parents got into. Perhaps they hid it from me the other times they did it, but I didn’t think so. They just got along. If something was miffing one or the other of them, they’d disappear into their room, discuss it and come out all lovey.

I’d hated fighting with Willie because I knew that proved I hadn’t picked the right one. Not that couples shouldn’t fight, just that Willie and I did it a lot. He could get mean, he had zero ability to self-reflect, but he was a whiz at deflection, and it always felt icky.

I sometimes wished Stormy would fight with me, so maybe he’d let loose the control he held on the wrath he felt at what Angelica had done to him, and he could start to heal and move on.

But this, with Harry, was what I’d always been looking for.

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