Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Ever so slowly, Will returns his gaze to the road and follows the car in front of us when the light turns green. “So you’re what? Searching for a body?”
“No. He’s not consistently of sound mind. Sometimes he thinks she’s alive, and sometimes he knows she’s dead.” I smile, fiddling with my sand dollar pendant. “But I take pictures of the sunrises and sunsets. I take pictures of the new trees and wildlife and share them with him. I show him life after death. And for me, it’s been a form of closure. I need it. I’ve released so many emotions. And I know when I take my last hike to release his ashes”—I turn away and blink back the tears—“it will be the beginning of something new that I won’t share with my past.” I quickly blot the corners of my eyes and release a tiny but joyous laugh. “I’ll fly.”
Will rests his hand on mine and gives it a gentle squeeze.
Then, for the next three hours, we drink wine, dance, laugh, and celebrate love.
“Are you good to drive?” I ask him as he helps me to the Bronco.
“I cut myself off an hour into the night. You’re safe with me.”
I slip off my heels before climbing into the passenger seat. “You’re such a good man, William Landry. You should find yourself a good woman. Maybe a psychiatrist.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nice try, matchmaker, but I’m good.” Before I can continue making my case for Dr. Reichart, he closes my door, and I fall asleep before we get out of the parking lot.
“Hey, do you need me to carry you?” Will gently shakes my arm.
I peel open my eyes and wait for everything to stop spinning. “This isn’t my hotel?”
He unfastens my seat belt. “I’ll take you to your hotel in the morning. Friends don’t leave friends drunk and alone.”
“Drunk is a strong word,” I mumble, sliding out of the seat.
“Whoa!” Will catches me when my feet fail to do their job.
“I’m good.” I right myself. “I can walk.”
“If you say so.” Will heads toward the door, carrying my purse and heels.
I stop at the bottom of the porch steps, feeling numb but not numb enough to forget everything.
“You okay?” Will asks after opening the door.
“He carried my shoes.” I slowly blink and gaze at my shoes in Will’s hand.
“Who carried your shoes?”
“Fitz,” I whisper, rubbing the heel of my hand over my chest. There it goes again, that jagged knife called love. “After the anniversary party,” I murmur. “We made love on a boat. And he held my hand at sunrise, walking me down the boardwalk with my heels in his other hand.” It hurts to smile, but I can’t help it. “I never told him I used to dream of that.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “It was a silly dream. I don’t know why my mind created it. I just knew that it wasn’t the shoes. It was him.” I ease my gaze to Will’s face, barely visible in the dark. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
I take one step, then another. “Thank you for showing me that it was just a dream. Anyone can carry my shoes.” I step into the house.
Will turns on a light. “You can sleep in the shed or Maren’s bed to be closer to the bathroom.”
I continue up the stairs and take a left into Fitz’s bedroom, gently closing the door behind me. Unzipping my dress, I then step out of it and crawl into bed, hugging his pillow and drifting off to sleep.
The following day, I slide into my dress, use the bathroom, and find Will in the kitchen with a cup of coffee waiting for me.
“Good morning.” He leans against the counter and grins behind his mug.
“Morning.” I inhale the dreamy steam before taking a sip.
“I didn’t hear you get up in the night. Did you get sick?”
“No. I wasn’t that intoxicated.” I glance around. “But I need to get back to my hotel. A shower and clean clothes are calling my name. Where’d I set my purse and shoes?”
He nods to the sofa. “I’m not sure where you put your shoes.”
“You had them, didn’t you?”
He shakes his head. “I thought I handed them to you when you walked up the stairs.”
I set my coffee on the counter and retrace my steps, even getting on my hands and knees to look under Fitz’s bed. “Where could they be?” I scratch my head as Will watches me from the doorway.
“That’s weird. I’ll check again in my Bronco. But for now, I’ll grab you a pair of Maren’s flip-flops and let you know when I find them. I can always ship them to you.”
I continue to shake my head. “They didn’t just vanish.”
Will meets me at the top of the stairs and hands me Maren’s shoes. “It was probably a mouse.”