To Say Goodbye (17 page)

“My parents should be here any minute.”

“Are you sure this is okay? This isn’t weird for you?” he asked, eyeing her.

“No, I want them to meet you. Well, again. In this circumstance. Okay, I’m done talking.” She reached for her glass of wine from the counter. “I’m going to check on the Cornish hens.”

As she popped open the oven to verify they weren’t burning, she took a deep breath. She was angry at herself for being so nervous. This was ridiculous. She was in her thirties. She’d been married. She’d been widowed. It wasn’t like she needed her parents’ approval of Jackson or like she had a huge announcement. This was just a dinner with people who were important to her.

But her stomach churned as if this were a big announcement, a big deal. In actuality, this was her first dinner with her parents and a new guy in years. In over a decade. This was her first event with Jackson. This was her first time hosting an actual dinner without Tim. There were, in fact, so many firsts with this dinner. She couldn’t lie to herself, pretend this was nothing.

It was definitely something.

She shrugged off her introspection when the doorbell rang. She greeted her parents at the door, as did Henry.

“Honey, hey!” her mom exclaimed as she came in and shrugged off her jacket. She leaned in for a hug and a kiss, but it was short-lived. Henry was quickly jumping on her, and she happily obliged with his desire for attention.

“Oh my God, he’s adorable!” her mother announced, picking up the puppy.

Her dad, lagging a bit behind, yelled, “Martha! Don’t talk about Sophia’s new man like that.” He left out his signature dad chuckle, and Sophia groaned.

“Oh stop, Stuart. You know I was talking to the puppy,” her mom scolded. The two always bickered. It was more than a little embarrassing.

Jackson played right in, standing up to walk over to her parents. “I mean, if we’re being honest, I am pretty adorable,” he said, laughing. Her dad grinned, shaking his hand. “Good to see you again.”

“Yeah. Better circumstances this time.” Her dad’s face intensified, and Sophia noticed her mom shoot him a glare.

“Very true,” Sophia said, trying to ease the awkwardness. “Mom, can you pull yourself away from the puppy for a few minutes to come eat? Dinner’s ready. I just have to get it from the oven.”

“I guess. But this face is killing me.”

“It kills me, too, when he wakes me up at one in the morning. And two. And three.”

“And when he goes for a morning jog, huh?” Jackson said, patting the dog’s head.

“Well, sometimes that’s not so bad,” Sophia replied, winking at him.

She’d been so worried about everything, so nervous. But it was all falling into place. It felt like the four of them had been getting together for decades, as if this weren’t the first dinner together.

Most days, it felt like Tim had only been gone a day, like these months had just been an eternally long day. Today, though, it felt like he’d been gone for a very long time, like Jackson and she were the ones with the long life together.

Her stomach clenched at the thought, just as she caught sight of her wedding picture with Tim across the living room. How could she think like this? How could she forget all of the time they’d had? How could she invite a new man into their home and pretend he’d never existed?

She told herself to breathe, to keep it together, as her mom joined her at the stove. Her dad and Jackson were talking about cars or something manly in the living room.

“Sophia? What is it?” her mom offered, putting an arm around her shoulder as Sophia lifted the pan of Cornish hens out the oven.

“Nothing, I’m great.” Sophia plastered a huge smile on her face, probably overcompensating.

“I can see it on your face. You’re thinking about Tim, aren’t you?”

She stopped working at the stove, turning to look at her mom as she fought back tears. “Jackson’s amazing. I like him a lot. I really do. He makes me feel safe.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“He seems great already. And I’m glad he makes you happy.”

“I know. I just can’t help but worrying I’m moving too fast.”

“Listen, honey. Grief has no time limits. If you’re ready to move on, then do it. Don’t worry about a timeline or about what people are going to say. Worry about you.”

“I know. But, Mom, how can I be sure I’m ready?”

“I don’t think you can. Listen, I don’t know what you’re going through. I never lost my husband like you did, especially at your age. But I can say this. I think you need to be careful you’re not just grasping for happiness. I can see the way you look at Jackson. I know you care for him. Just don’t rush into things to try to avoid your grief. I don’t think you can just cover it up. If you don’t let it unfold at its own pace, if you try to rush it or to mask it, I think it’s going to come back to you full force. I want you to do what’s right for you, but I also don’t want to see you rush into something new only to have the grief of Tim’s loss come tumbling down on you later. Go at your own pace, but don’t rush through it. Feel what you need to feel when you need to feel it. Everything else can wait.”

Sophia grabbed her mom for a hug, holding her for several moments. Over her mom’s shoulder, she saw Jackson laughing with her dad, saw his rugged smile lighting up the room. Her mom was right. She needed to be careful. She needed to take things slow, to amble on with care.

She wasn’t completely ready to move on just yet. She wasn’t ready to close the door on her grief, on her life with Tim. Nonetheless, as they sat down to dinner, Jackson across from her, she also wasn’t ready to say never to the gorgeous man across from her who filled her with a peace she knew she wouldn’t find anywhere else.

_______________

“Seriously? Why would you do that?” Jackson asked as the whole family erupted once more in laughter.

“I was five.”

“Still. That’s ridiculous.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Sophia scowled as she took another sip of wine. After they’d settled into dinner and endured the customary questions, her dad had decided to tell the story about Sophia getting her head stuck in the deck railing.

“I think we might even have pictures,” Martha added, also grinning.

“Okay, first, what kind of parents takes pictures of that? Weren’t you worried?” Sophia asked, still scowling.

“Nah, it was nothing a little butter couldn’t fix.”

Jackson shook his head, forking another bite of chicken as he laughed.

“Trouble at five, huh?” he asked through a mouthful of food.

She groaned. “Okay, change of conversation. How’s the trip to Paris coming along?”

“Oh, that’s boring. Jackson doesn’t want to hear about that. He’d rather hear about you,” Martha said, winking at Jackson.

“Well, I’d rather not unearth any more horror stories from my childhood.”

The night continued, playful bantering and wine passed around. The mood was relaxed and easy. Sophia found herself enjoying the food, enjoying the company, and enjoying the sight of Jackson at the table with her parents.

“So, Jackson, Sophia tells us you’re working at the restaurant in town?” Martha asked politely once the laughter settled down.

“Yeah. I like it there.”

“Quite a change from the army, huh?” her dad noted. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in his voice—it was just an observation.

“Yeah,” Jackson said, nodding. “I just wanted something completely different, you know? I like being in the kitchen. I thought seriously about becoming a chef at one point before I headed to boot camp.”

“You know, when I worked at the high school, I was pretty good friends with the culinary instructor at the Vo-tech,” Stuart added. “He actually went off to work at a pretty big restaurant in New York City. Maybe I could hook you up with his contact info sometime if you were ever interested in moving on.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll keep that in mind. But right now, I don’t have plans to go anywhere.” He smiled, eyeing Sophia strategically across the table, and her heart fluttered.

Dinner came to an end, and before long, everyone was getting ready to head out.

“Tonight was great. Thanks for including me,” Jackson murmured in her ear before reaching down to say goodbye to Henry, now fast asleep in front of the fireplace.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she said, leading him to the door.

Once he was gone, she turned around to say final goodbyes to her parents.

“He’s a good bloke,” her dad said.

“You just like him because he can talk cars with you,” Martha teased. Her dad shrugged.

“Don’t you like him, Mom?” Sophia asked.

“I do.”

“But?”

“But, honey, I just want you to be careful. That’s all. Don’t let your heart get ahead of itself.”

“I won’t,” she promised as she said some more goodbyes and exchanged hugs. “I love you guys.”

“We love you, too. It’s good to see you smile again So-So,” her dad said, making her roll her eyes at the sound of her childhood nickname.

As she closed the door and headed to the couch to unwind, her mother’s words reverberated in her mind. She did her best to squash them, basking only in the thought of Jackson’s smile, his kiss, and his plans to stay in town.

SOPHIA

“H
ey, stranger. Good to see you,” Stella teased when Sophia walked into the shop a few days later.

Sophia managed a weak smile. “You, too.”

“You’ve been so busy after work, I barely get to see you. Stud muffin soldier boy’s been keeping you busy.”

“Sorry.” Sophia felt herself blush.

“Hey, I’m not complaining. It’s good to see you feeling happier again.”

“And it’s good to see Larry keeping you happy, too,” she said, heading to her station to plug in her equipment and get ready for the day.

Stella tossed her a store-bought, prepackaged cinnamon roll, their go-to breakfast.

“You know, we should probably start eating like thirtysomethings instead of twentysomethings,” Sophia teased as she ripped open the package.

“A little curves never killed anyone,” Stella said, running her hands on her hips as she laughed.

“You’re full of yourself today.”

“Yeah. Larry and I had a pretty good night last night.” Stella gave her an overly dramatic wink, snickering at Sophia’s creeped-out face.

Sophia winked back. “I won’t ask for details. I’m sure it was pretty steamy.”

“You better believe it.” She stared at Sophia questioningly. Sophia stopped, mouth full of cinnamon roll.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Just wondering if your nights are getting steamier, too.” Stella busied herself at her styling station, organizing some bobby pins as if she hadn’t just asked an extremely personal question.

“Stella! Seriously?”

“Just saying. He’s pretty gorgeous. And completely into you. And you’re young, vivacious. What gives?”

“I can’t believe I’m entertaining this discussion. Need I remind you...” She pointed to her wedding ring, still on her finger.

“I know, I know. But you can’t keep it closed for business forever, you know.”

“Okay, we’re done here,” Sophia joked, wiping her hands on her apron. “Next topic, please.”

They chattered on about Larry’s facial hair, about Stella’s mom’s new boyfriend, about Henry, and about the latest action on their favorite soap opera. They carried on discussing anything and everything until the first customer arrived at nine.

As Sophia busied herself with Mrs. Rally’s permanent wave, her mind started to wander.

Stella’s question had really made her uncomfortable, made her squirm. It wasn’t, however, because she was a prude or because she didn’t talk to Stella about such things.

It was because deep inside, she’d been thinking about Jackson’s sinewy body in ways she didn’t quite think were rated G.

And she hated herself for it.

_______________

The movie played in her head, over and over. Jackson taking her in his arms, wrapping himself around her, tossing her on the bed...

Then she jolted out of it. It wasn’t her bed.

It was hers and Tim’s bed.

She knew it was probably natural to be feeling... well... needy. It had been a long time. Jackson was sexy. Beyond sexy.

But this was disturbing. She felt dirty and awful. How could she be thinking about this? How could she be thinking about another man’s body with everything that had happened?

She certainly wasn’t ready for this. Just yesterday, she’d spent forty-five minutes bawling her eyes out because one of Tim’s favorite shirts fell to the floor of their closet and Henry had chewed the sleeve. She still had her moments of searing pain, of debilitating hurt that made it hard to breathe.

It would creep up on her at strange times. In the grocery store, she would feel her chest tighten at the sight of the double stuffed Oreos, Tim’s favorite. She would feel it on the way home in the car, when a song would come on that he used to sing crazily to. She would feel it when she couldn’t manage to get the window open because it was jammed. She’d feel it when she went to laugh and to tell him about the crazy client who had come in today.

She felt his absence in every minute of her life.

Although the grief was tiresome, the relentless reel of their memories playing in her head drained her even more. The smallest incident, the tiniest trigger would set off a string of memories, of moments. They were moments of sheer happiness. She’d loved Tim, been crazy about him. He’d made her whole, made her Sophia.

Without him, she still felt like only a part of her former self.

Then came Jackson. He was kind and loving, understanding and empathetic. He was a straight shooter, never sugarcoating things. From the moment she heard him speak at the grave that day, she’d felt a connection to him. He understood her. He comforted her.

He was someone she could see herself with.

In truth, if she had met Jackson first, things might have been different. She could see herself falling for soldier Jackson, for pre-Chloe and pre-Tim Jackson.

These thoughts, though, incited the endless cycle of guilt and grief. Because when she thought about Jackson, she instantly thought about Tim and what he would think. She felt like a cheater, even if her husband was gone. She felt awful about the whole situation. She wished she could just feel nothing at all.