“Now?”

He nodded. “The sooner you send it, the better you’ll feel.”

“I’ll send it later. I want to look over it first.”

“Okay.” We sat in silence for a minute, then he pointed to the top of the refrigerator. “Is that blackberry pie?”

“It is. I made it at two this morning when I couldn’t sleep. Would you like a piece?”

“Do you have vanilla ice cream?”

I gave a little laugh, remembering that he didn’t eat blackberry pie unless there was ice cream to go with it.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I pushed away from the table to retrieve the pie and ice cream.

“Have you ever asked yourself why you still keep the pie on top of the refrigerator?” Salvador asked. “It’s not like the girls are going to ruin their appetite by sneaking a piece before dinnertime.”

I placed a piece of pie and a scoop of ice cream on a plate for him. “That question makes me a little sad, thinking about the girls not being little anymore. Thinking about how that part of our lives are really over. To answer your question, however, I guess it’s habit.”

I brought his plate to the table and handed him a fork.

“Aren’t you having any?”

“No.” I returned the ice cream to the freezer. “Maybe later.”

He took a bite and moaned with pleasure. “Good as ever, Ruthie. A plus. Ten out of ten.”

I smiled. “I’m glad I still have the touch. You can take the rest home if you want.”

“You haven’t been able to eat?”

I returned to the table and sat beside him. “No. I just feel so sick about everything. I have this constant, hard knot in my stomach.”

“You need to give yourself grace.”

“Spoken like Abuela’s grandson.”

He shrugged. “Grace is a good thing.”

“True, but it’s easier said than done.”

He smiled. “I think sending the letter will help.”

“I hope so.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to cry in front of Salvador again. I’d shed way too many tears lately.

“Look, you probably don’t want to take advice from your ex-husband...” Salvador smiled, proud of himself for paraphrasing the words I’d said in the restaurant.

Not to be outdone, I managed to repeat what he’d told me. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure there are worst people to consult.”

We shared a smile, and it lifted my mood. “What’s your advice?” I asked.

“My advice is that you talk to someone about all this.”

I frowned. “Talk to someone?”

He pulled a business card from his wallet and set it on the table. “Here. This is Maria Wasowski. She’s easy to talk to and incredibly insightful.”

Tags: Kristin Noel Fischer Crime
Source: readsnovelonline.net