Page 134 of The Woman Left Behind

“You gonna get a facial or a massage?” he asked.

“Massage,” she told him.

Perfect, he thought.

“Good,” he said.

They both took sips.

“You feeling okay?” he asked.

“Are you asking if I’m hungover?” she returned.

Ronetta and George had hosted Lillian’s extended crew, including all her best girls, their men, and Harry’s family. She served up baked beans and potato salad, with George wrapped up in a fleece manning the grill out back and filling burger orders. Ronetta had jam cake and ice cream for dessert.

And the wine, beer and cocktails had flowed freely.

Everyone had changed into something comfortable before going over, and it got to be like a party. There was laughter. Phone numbers were exchanged. Future plans were made.

And Ronetta gave Harry a tour of her sunroom, which rested across the entire back of their house. This meant he walked through the length of it, seeing they might have cut their long backyard in half, but they’d doubled the footprint of the house, giving everyone their own space—including their kids when they’d been at home—and then some.

It gave Harry food for thought.

“Yes,” he answered Lillian’s question.

“Nothing the Double D’s French toast won’t fix,” she told him. Her lips quirked and she remarked, “Your dad seemed really excited to tuck into their biscuits and gravy.”

“When he comes up, we usually meet at Josh and Amanda’s. He hasn’t been back to MP in…” Harry thought about it, “since I won the election.”

“I’m glad he’s taking advantage of being home.”

Harry smiled at her.

Her eyes warmed when he did.

Then they wandered.

They caught on something, and she noted, “I’ve been forgetting to turn down the furnace.”

He glanced where her eyes were aimed, saw nothing, and asked, “Sorry?”

She sipped again and shared, “I like to turn down the furnace at night. Sleep snuggly.” She gave him a look he felt in his crotch on the word “snuggly,” before she continued, “It also helps with the gas bill. But I’ve been forgetting.”

He turned again to the wall, and it was then he saw an old dial thermostat he was shocked as shit still worked, considering it had to have been installed in the seventies.

“While you’re at the spa, I’ll go by Mackey’s.” Mackey’s was the local hardware store. “Get you a thermostat you can program and control on your phone. I’ll set it up, have that taken care of before you get back from the Pinetop.”

She said nothing. Didn’t protest. There was no you don’t have to do that or that’s too much, and when Harry returned his attention to her, his body locked.

Lillian had rested her cheek on her knee, but her gaze was on him, a look on her face he’d seen nuances of since he’d met her, but the feeling behind it was full force now, nothing buried, nothing hidden, nothing restrained, and it hit him like a rocket.

There was gratitude, and such depth of affection, it felt like it filled the room, he was swimming in it, and the waters were cleansing and warm.

And he’d been reborn.

Harry’s mug crashed on the counter, and in two long strides, his swift movements making Smokey jerk up, he was at Lillian.

She’d lifted her head, and he pulled her mug out of her hold, set it on the kitchen table, caught her at the back of the neck and bent to take her mouth.

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