I shook my head thinking about the last time I saw him, just three days ago, yet it felt like a lifetime. “I might have screwed things up with Trey permanently, but even if that’s true, I have to do this.”
“Back up and tell me what happened with Trey.”
“Oh nothing,” I answered on a casual sigh. “We had really hot sex up against his front door and when it was over, I ran away like a scared schoolgirl. How will I ever face him again Pip?”
“Like the confident, badass and totally conflicted woman you are. He’ll understand because he loves you.”
I’m falling for you, hard. He’d said those words to me, in a moment of intimacy sure, but also a moment when he had me as a captive audience. I saw the promise in his eyes, and I wanted it to be true. “Even if I did mess things up, I have to do this.”
“Do what, Val? Talk to me.”
I stared at the headstones, some plain and some over the top ostentatious, from the comfort of my car. “I’m at the cemetery. I need to put Rodney to rest for good.”
“Oh honey, you should have called me earlier. I would have gone with you.”
I smiled. “Thanks, but that’s exactly why I didn’t call you. I have to face this myself or how can I move forward?” As much as I wanted Pippa at my side, holding my hand, I needed to do this on my own. I had to prove to myself that I could. “Now that I’m here, I’m not sure that I can.”
“You damn well can, just get out of the car and put one foot in front of the other until you’re standing in front of him.”
“And then?”
Pippa laughed. “Then you say goodbye.”
Goodbye. “And that’s it?”
“Well, say anything else you want him to know. That you’re fine without him. That he was right about some stuff, but his execution was just garbage and he owed you better than that.” She laughed. “Should I go on?”
“No,” I sighed. “I get it. Thanks, Pippa.”
“Anytime. Good luck and call me when you’re done, or stop by Dark Horse and I’ll buy you a meal and too much alcohol.”
“All right.” I tucked the phone back into my purse and stepped from the car, leaving everything but the keys inside. One foot in front of the other. I repeated those words to myself until I made it to the black granite headstone that read, Rodney Berryman, Loving Father and Faithful Friend, because I couldn’t bring myself to call him my husband with any kind of compliment alongside it. Not back then, anyway.
Rodney wasn’t alone. A woman I didn’t recognize was there, and I knew instinctively that it was Claire. The woman he loved at the time of his death.
I stood there, stock still, for a long moment, not making a sound because my heart raced and my feet were glued to the ground, unable to flee this horribly awkward encounter. A breeze swept through, and the woman turned, brown eyes wide with shock.
“Oh, I’m, um, I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”
I wanted her to go, but I held up a hand to stop her. “No, don’t. Claire, right?”
She nodded and took a cautious step backwards. “I need to go.”
“Don’t. Please. Rodney loved you, which gives you as much right to be here as anyone.” My words surprised me as much as they shocked Claire. She was pretty, very pretty but not gorgeous as I had envisioned. Blond hair held streaks of gray, but her skin was near flawless and her lips pretty and plump. “Did you love him?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You can’t,” I assured her. “I’ve hurt myself enough about you since I found out he planned to leave me.”
Claire nodded and tears turned her brown eyes to liquid chocolate. “I did love him, a lot. He was funny and dorky and always willing to try new things.” The tears fell as memories flooded her mind and though my heart clenched, it wasn’t jealousy. “He told me he was in the middle of a divorce and that she, well you, were making things difficult. He was worried you wouldn’t let him see his daughters.”
I glared at the headstone as if the anger I felt would bring him back to life just so that I could kill him myself. “I didn’t know about you Claire, not until after he was dead and I found the Dear Jane letter he’d written to me.” I kept it to myself that he’d written the letter two months before his death, which meant he was just working up his way to telling me. “I didn’t even know your name until recently.”
“W-what?”
I flashed a gentle smile because this woman didn’t deserve my anger. She was just a woman looking for love, and she’d found it with my husband. My lying, cheating husband. “I’m sorry for your loss, Claire.”