For Lucy

She nods.

“Well, I think hand washing and sterile environments are kind of his thing. And if you were the one on his operating table, you’d be thankful for his OCD.”

“I suppose.” She lifts the burger bun and discards the tomato and red onion.

“But you like him. Right?”

“I suppose. It’s not like I see him that often. He’s usually working. Or sleeping. Mom said he always falls asleep when they watch a movie together.”

“Is your mom still teaching dance?” When I met Tatum, she competed in ballroom dancing competitions while selling real estate to make rent. After we got married, she rented space in Kansas City to teach classes three nights a week. I could barely snap my fingers to a simple beat. Yet we fit, and it was as perfect as that meticulously painted white fence for twelve years.

“Yes. Still teaching three nights a week. You know…” Lucy smirks, stirring her milkshake “…if you want to know how Mom’s doing or what she’s doing, you could ask her yourself.”

My gaze relocates to my plate as I grab my burger and shrug. “Just making small talk.”

“How’s your dating life?” Lucy prods.

Shoving the greasy burger into my mouth, I buy a few more seconds to formulate a good answer to her question. I don’t make the mistake of looking at her because I know she’s judging me. It’s hard to still love Tatum to the point that I don’t have interest in anyone else yet reassure Lucy that I’m good.

Lucy won’t believe I’m good until she sees me move on and find something resembling happiness again. Maybe I should make up a story. What’s another lie at this point?

“It’s going,” I say, giving her a sweeping glance before redirecting my attention to the heat rising from the newly blacktopped parking lot out the window to my right.

“You’re not seeing anyone … are you?”

“Well …” I wipe my mouth with the thin paper napkin. “I had a drink with my new neighbor last week.”

“A woman?” Lucy’s eyes widen with the same enthusiasm as her voice jumping an octave.

“Yes.” I chuckle. “A woman.”

“I didn’t know anyone had moved into that house. So … what’s her name? What does she do? Is she divorced? Widowed? Never been married? Does she have kids? What does she look like? Do you like her?”

She wants this so much. I feel like my response will completely make or break her.

“Her name is Nina. She’s a nurse. Divorced. Two kids.”

“How old?”

“I’m not sure.” I take another bite of my burger and buy more time.

“Have you met her kids?”

My head shakes.

“Are you going to ask her out on a date?”

After I finish chewing, I take a drink of my root beer. Lucy has barely touched her sandwich. My ravenous daughter, who used to eat half a large pizza, now eats like a bird. I think she’s had four slurps of her milkshake and two fries.

“She’s my new neighbor. I’m not sure rushing into dating her is a good idea. Things could get awkward if it doesn’t work out.” I nod toward Lucy’s plate. “Are you not hungry?”

“It’s a lot of carbs.” With her fork wielded like a weapon, she fishes out the burger from the rubble of toppings.

“You could have ordered a salad.” I stab my fork into the bun, cheese, and pickles she discards. No sense in wasting food.

“I don’t really like salads,” she says with a sour face.

“Then what is on your list of things to eat? Meat and …?”

“Eggs. Cauliflower rice. Almonds. Yogurt. And you’re changing the subject. I need to know that you’re looking for someone.”

This girl.

She needs this.

If I don’t give her some illusion of happiness, she will drown in guilt because the secret we share is the kind that ruins lives—and marriages.

“I’m looking for someone, but she has to be the one. I won’t settle.”

Lucy points her fork at me. “You need to be looking online. You can’t find the one in Redington. You need to get a profile. Ashton’s mom is online, and she’s had a half dozen dates in under a month.”

“Who’s Ashton?” I point my fork at her, mirroring her fork pointed at me.

She smiles, proving to be my constant sunshine, and taps my fork with hers like a sword. “He’s a friend.” Her cheeks tell the truth in spite of her best effort to downplay this Ashton kid. “And I may or may not be going out with him tonight after you drop me off at home.”

Leaning back, I toss my napkin onto the table and cross my arms over my chest. “Then I will stay to meet him.”

“You don’t need to—” She uses her fork like a laser pointer again. “Stay as in come into the house and wait … with Mom?”

“I can wait in my truck. I have some work I can do on my computer.”