that she would have lost that Cassie spark I fell in love with, that her tempestuousness would’ve hardened into shrewishness over the years. Then maybe I could forget her. But she seems more relaxed now. And I wouldn’t know it from the limited contact we’ve had in the past few years, but she’s just as fun-loving as ever. She must’ve laughed a hundred times today, and watching her with the little ones made me remember what a good mom she always was, even when we were young and stupid and parenting was all about making it up as we went along.
And Christ, she’s beautiful. Whoever said only men get better as they age hasn’t seen my Cass. She’s all woman, but she’s still got a hint of her girlish spirit - not to mention a soft body I want to squeeze and deep beautiful eyes. More than a few guys checked her out today, horny middle-aged men like myself who want to bask in that charm and beauty.
My kids said Adam was a good guy, but I wanted to kill that fucker. He was a tall, blond, smooth douchebag and I hated him. He got to be with her. Be seen with her. Make her laugh. Wake up with her.
Touch her. Taste her.
I was glad my kids seemed to like him okay and he wasn’t trying to be any kind of second dad. He respected my role in their lives and for that I give the guy some props. But he was more than ready to be Cassie’s husband, that was obvious from the first time I saw them together. Everything about the way he was with her screamed she’s all mine . And for that, I hated him. I hated him for thinking it, I hated him for having his shot, and I hated him for knowing that he, unlike me, wouldn’t screw it up.
When I heard he was gone I almost went to her house and got down on my knees to beg her for another chance. The urge was so strong I got in my truck and drove out of town so I wouldn’t do anything stupid. There was no way the woman who barely spoke to me for years was going to magically fall at my feet and be swept away by my confession of love. She was more likely to call the police. The timing wasn’t right.
And it’s still not right. It may never be right, but I had today. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get another day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cassie
Over the next couple days, we all spend enough time together that it gets less and less awkward to talk to Grady, although I make every attempt not to be alone with him because I don’t want him to say anything that will make me cry again. That emotional sucker-punch from the Fall Festival left me feeling vulnerable to him for the first time in many years. Every time it runs through my mind I have to focus on something else to take my mind off the emotion in his voice, the shocking intimacy of that "thank you" after so many years of being strangers.
But he doesn’t say or do anything else to upset me. We take turns spending time with the kids and Donna. I visit Renée, sometimes to talk, sometimes to babysit so she can have a nap or a shower or run to the store, sometimes just to be there with her while she cries for Carl. Her mom and sister are around a lot to help, which would be great, except they’re hard women to deal with and offer zero emotional comfort. They take advantage of her grief, swooping in to control things, criticizing her housekeeping and parenting. I see shades of my own narcissistic mother in both women, and I have to bite my tongue often. I know that if she were herself again, Renée would never stand for their abuse, and it’s hard to see her so broken. She’s always been a force of nature, so to see that life drained from her makes me feel a bit bruised inside.
On Wednesday I visit her and we talk a lot about the funeral. Renée’s asked Grady to deliver the eulogy, and he’s been thinking about it all week. I’ve watched him stare off into space and rub his jaw when he’s trying to find the words in his head, and he gets this look on his face that I’ve never seen before, a look that breaks my heart. Although
And Christ, she’s beautiful. Whoever said only men get better as they age hasn’t seen my Cass. She’s all woman, but she’s still got a hint of her girlish spirit - not to mention a soft body I want to squeeze and deep beautiful eyes. More than a few guys checked her out today, horny middle-aged men like myself who want to bask in that charm and beauty.
My kids said Adam was a good guy, but I wanted to kill that fucker. He was a tall, blond, smooth douchebag and I hated him. He got to be with her. Be seen with her. Make her laugh. Wake up with her.
Touch her. Taste her.
I was glad my kids seemed to like him okay and he wasn’t trying to be any kind of second dad. He respected my role in their lives and for that I give the guy some props. But he was more than ready to be Cassie’s husband, that was obvious from the first time I saw them together. Everything about the way he was with her screamed she’s all mine . And for that, I hated him. I hated him for thinking it, I hated him for having his shot, and I hated him for knowing that he, unlike me, wouldn’t screw it up.
When I heard he was gone I almost went to her house and got down on my knees to beg her for another chance. The urge was so strong I got in my truck and drove out of town so I wouldn’t do anything stupid. There was no way the woman who barely spoke to me for years was going to magically fall at my feet and be swept away by my confession of love. She was more likely to call the police. The timing wasn’t right.
And it’s still not right. It may never be right, but I had today. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get another day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cassie
Over the next couple days, we all spend enough time together that it gets less and less awkward to talk to Grady, although I make every attempt not to be alone with him because I don’t want him to say anything that will make me cry again. That emotional sucker-punch from the Fall Festival left me feeling vulnerable to him for the first time in many years. Every time it runs through my mind I have to focus on something else to take my mind off the emotion in his voice, the shocking intimacy of that "thank you" after so many years of being strangers.
But he doesn’t say or do anything else to upset me. We take turns spending time with the kids and Donna. I visit Renée, sometimes to talk, sometimes to babysit so she can have a nap or a shower or run to the store, sometimes just to be there with her while she cries for Carl. Her mom and sister are around a lot to help, which would be great, except they’re hard women to deal with and offer zero emotional comfort. They take advantage of her grief, swooping in to control things, criticizing her housekeeping and parenting. I see shades of my own narcissistic mother in both women, and I have to bite my tongue often. I know that if she were herself again, Renée would never stand for their abuse, and it’s hard to see her so broken. She’s always been a force of nature, so to see that life drained from her makes me feel a bit bruised inside.
On Wednesday I visit her and we talk a lot about the funeral. Renée’s asked Grady to deliver the eulogy, and he’s been thinking about it all week. I’ve watched him stare off into space and rub his jaw when he’s trying to find the words in his head, and he gets this look on his face that I’ve never seen before, a look that breaks my heart. Although
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