I take it, pull out a lighter from my pocket, and flick it on. He stares at me for a moment, shocked. I bend and light my cigar and inhale deeply, and then I hold it alight for him. He does the same. He takes in a big breath and coughs as he chokes, and I chuckle as I blow out the thin stream of smoke.
I hold the cigar up and look at it. “Not bad.” I smile. “You got good taste,” I say to the tombstone.
Harrison fights a smile as he takes another drag. He puffs the smoke out like a dragon, and I can tell he doesn’t normally smoke.
“This is Tristan,” Harrison says to the tombstone.
I smile and dip my head in a greeting. “Mr. Anderson.”
Harrison looks at me for a moment and then touches the tombstone. “You can touch it.” He pats it, as if to entice me.
He wants me to shake hands with his dad.
I walk over and put my hand on the top of the cold hard stone.
Goose bumps scatter up my arms, and a weird emotion overwhelms me.
In some strange way, I feel like this is the changing of the guard.
The family he loved . . . is now with me.
In my care, for me to love.
“Nice to meet you, Wade,” I whisper.
Claire
I watch the man in the expensive navy suit and perfect posture—the big-time city businessman who looks so out of place here. He slowly lifts the cigar to his lips and inhales deeply. He says something to the young boy he’s with, then exhales the smoke in a thin stream. His hand rests on the boy’s shoulder as they continue their conversation.
My heart constricts.
I lean u
p against the tree in the cemetery. Their silhouettes blur through tears as I watch Harrison and Tristan standing over Wade’s grave.
If someone cut my heart open with a knife, it would be less painful than watching this.
The man whom I love, taking my son to see his dead father . . . smoking a cigar with them. And I know that Harrison is too young to smoke, and they shouldn’t be doing this. I should be furious. I should be appalled . . . but then . . .
Wade loved cigars.
My chest shudders as I try to get a hold on my emotions.
This would be so special to Wade . . . having a cigar with his son.
I close my eyes, the pain unbearable.
I went to pick up Harrison from school so I could try to talk to him alone, and then I saw him getting into Tristan’s car, and I followed them here.
This is the last thing I expected to see.
I don’t want them to see me. I turn and walk back to my car, the tears streaming down my face. I get in, and without looking back, I drive home in tears.
I’m in love with a beautiful man.
I toss the salad in the bowl and glance at the clock. Seven o’clock. The boys have done their chores and are watching television.
My heart is bursting with love, and I am totally in awe of Tristan.