But losing Zeke affected her differently. She’d quickly sold their beautiful home on Kentucky Lake, and rather than moving back to Taylor’s Grove, she’d bought the old Morris farmhouse outside of town. She would talk about Zeke only if someone brought up his name—and then reluctantly. She never brought him into the conversation on her own.
She had seemed angry, which Rosemary knew was one of the stages of grief. She’d read that on the internet, too. But it certainly had gone on for a long time now. Too long. Maggie didn’t date. Didn’t do much of anything except work and spend time with Russ.
What would she do now that he was gone?
Eli’s breathing stopped again, and Rosemary began her ritualistic counting. She wasn’t sure why she counted. He was never impressed with the numbers she spouted the next morning. Tomorrow, over coffee, she would report to him that he’d held his breath for almost thirty-five seconds. He’d shrug and say, “So which do you want—snoring or silence? Because you complain either way.”
Her retort would be that she wanted him healthy.
What would she do without him? The previous question echoed in her mind. Maggie was young—could easily start over. But she herself was sixty-one and had been with the same man for forty years. She had no desire to start over. She could never love another man the way she did Eli. Could never love again, period. The thought made her shudder.
Was it her imagination that Eli’s color was off?
She slipped her phone from the bedside table and turned on the flashlight app, shining it down on his face—the man could sleep through a rock concert once he got horizontal. He looked so peaceful and relaxed but definitely a little grayish in pallor.
One eye winked open and glared at her. “What are you doing, Rosie? Checking me for fleas?”
“You’ve been holding your breath.”
“And you’re getting back at me by shining a light into my eyes? You trying to make me think a train is coming through our bedroom?”
“I wanted to check your color. You look kind of gray.”
“You’d be gray, too, if you had to live with you. Now turn off the damn searchlight.”
She turned it off and placed the phone back on the table, but not because he told her to do it. She was finished looking... Definitely gray. They would resume this conversation in the morning. She settled under the covers again.
“Rosie.” Eli’s tender whisper shimmied through the darkness. “Slide back over here, and I’ll make you hold your breath.”
She laughed and did as he asked, snuggling into the crook of his arm. He kissed her sweetly a few times then with more purpose, and her tiredness got tangled among the sheets as their excitement rose and the pace of their movements accelerated.
They didn’t take long. After forty years, there was no experimentation and nothing new. The new had been sorted through years ago. What worked was kept and had now become part of the routine. What didn’t work had been lost with no remorse. What remained was the best of the best, carefully chosen, deeply intimate and immensely satisfying.
Their sighs mingled as they held each other in the afterglow, and soon the familiar rumble that would become Eli’s snore began to take form.
Rosemary changed her tactic and began counting the breaths rather than the non-breaths. It made more sense to pay attention to what gave life to this man she adored.
She’d only gotten to seventeen when drowsiness caused her to lose interest. With his body spooning her back and his arm across her front, she felt warm and complete.
Life without Eli?
The thought induced another shiver.
She snuggled closer against him.
“WE COULD’VE WALKED faster than this.” Maggie blew out a breath and cut her eyes toward Jeff in the passenger seat. “It’s only seven miles.”
He pressed his lips together as if he intended to give that some serious consideration, but then he shook his head. “I’m not about to walk seven miles in this heat unless I have a golf bag over my shoulder.”
Maggie snorted. “Some things never change.”
As on the previous afternoon, heavy traffic lumbered its way up Lake Shore Drive. Though she’d added the grumble for effect, Maggie didn’t really mind the slow ride. The morning sunshine and the excitement of being in the city—not to mention the company of the man in the car with her—had her blood pumping. She’d allowed herself plenty of time to relax this morning, eaten a hearty breakfast to chase away any growls her stomach might consider making and had chosen a pair of shorts she could wear with sneakers.
Yeah, she’d prepared herself for moving day and the ten thousand trips they would make back and forth to the car with Russ’s things.
What she hadn’t prepared for was the slam to her stomach brought on by Jeff’s smile when she’d stepped off the elevator. Or the delicious tingle his presence gave her in the close quarters of her car. She should find some comfort, she supposed, knowing a part of what they’d had still remained—a kind of validity that what they’d felt for each other years ago had been real. And maybe he felt it, too. The smile that had greeted her this morning had seemed genuine.
“Spike Grainger was in the bar last night,” Jeff said.
The comment came out of nowhere as the light turned green and traffic started moving at a faster but steady pace.
“Who?”
“Spike Grainger. His son Matt is one of Russ’s teammates. Anyway, he was pumping me about you.”
Oh, Lord! “You were discussing me with someone in the bar? Why?” She flipped the air conditioner to high and directed the vent toward her heated face.
“I didn’t bring you up. He did. I think he’s interested. But you need to be warned that he’s only been divorced for three weeks and his ex is on her honeymoon.”
Her ex-husband was trying to fix her up with somebody? Maggie bristled, not exactly sure why she found this extremely irritating—except that she’d shared some things with him last night that had left her feeling vulnerable. She certainly hoped she hadn’t come across as desperate. “Thank you, Mr. Matchmaker, but I don’t need your help finding a man.”
“I wasn’t helping you find a man,” Jeff bit back. “I’m helping you not find a man. The guy’s needy and on the prowl. I suspect he’s going to put the moves on you today, and I wanted you to be aware.”
“I told you about Zeke, so now you think I’m some pushover where men are concerned?”
“I didn’t say that, Mags.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I think Zeke was a bastard.”
“Let’s drop the Zeke subject, okay? I’m good. Things are good.” Her hands were aching again from gripping the steering wheel too tightly, just like yesterday. She let go with one and stretched her fingers as the silence continued for a couple of minutes.
“You dating anyone?” he asked.
When she’d first found out Jeff was coming to this orientation, Maggie vowed she wouldn’t get into all the subterfuge some exes seem to find necessary. She pretended to focus on the traffic as her mind contemplated whether or not this was something worth lying about to him. She decided it wasn’t. “No. I haven’t been out with anyone since...you know.” She stopped herself short of the conversation topic she’d just banned. “Oh, guys have asked,” she added. “I’ve just been too busy.”
“How