Page 9 of My Dead Wife's Ex Will Do
“Logan and Adrienne are partners at her law firm. Silas is Logan’s boyfriend.” She elbowed me in the side. “His much younger boyfriend, apparently.”
“You should talk,” I tell her.
“Hey, the ten years between me and Adrienne is nothing compared to them. Logan is, like, your age, and Silas is younger than me.”
There’s a flutter of murmurs and gasps from the folks surrounding us. Half a dozen fingers point skyward and I look up in time to catch the sloth in motion again. She stretches one long arm across a gap between tree limbs, then a leg, wraps them around a neighboring branch and slides almost bonelessly with her baby onto the other branch. Then she climbs a few feet higher and disappears behind a clump of leaves.
There’s a chorus of disappointed groans and the sloth-watchers disperse in small groupings. Kelsey rests her head on my shoulder for a minute.
“I think Adrienne is by the pool. Wanna join us?”
I check my watch. Fifteen minutes before I should go back to the casita to bring Jason the coffee I promised and make sure he doesn’t nap too long. I don’t know why I risked touching his head before I left the casita, but I can still feel his hair under my fingers. I shake out the hand that’s not wrapped around Kelsey’s shoulder. The pool is next to the restaurant. I can grab a beer and dangle my feet in the water for a bit, then order some coffee to go. It’ll cool me down until I have to go back and see Jason.
“Sure, Kels.”
Five
Victor
I spend about ten minutes chatting with Kelsey and Adrienne poolside, then fetch some coffee and a couple of beers to bring to Jason. There’s a small fridge in our casita if he doesn’t want them right now.
I can’t decide whether to knock before entering. What if he’s awake? What if he’s not?
Turns out it’s awkward enough getting the door open with two bottles of beer and two cups of hot coffee in my hands that I probably make as much noise as if I’d banged on the door with my fist.
Jason is still sprawled out on the sofa, on his stomach, one arm bent and stuffed under a throw pillow, the other dangling off the edge of the sofa. I hunker down at the end of the coffee table and manage to set the coffees and beer bottles down on its glass top without spilling or tipping anything over. Then I settle on my ass, cross my legs, and look at the sleeping man in front of me.
He doesn’t look his age, though I know he’s turning fifty this year. His black hair has silver glints at the temples, but he’s still got all of it, as far as I can see. He’s got a matched pair of lines around his nose and mouth and a set of furrows between his brows that apparently don’t ease even in sleep.
December is probably his busiest time of year, between the Christmas services and holiday concerts. I wonder when he last took a vacation. Hopefully, Kelsey can convince him to relax some this week.
“Jay,” I whisper. His eyelids twitch and his lips tighten. Damn it, I really need to stop using that nickname. I clear my throat and try again.
“Jason.” I put a hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and the muscles under his shirt are firm. “Time to wake up, dude.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be calling everyone ‘dude’?” He says this without opening his eyes and the sleepy rasp to his voice makes the words sound fond rather than annoyed.
Which is a hundred percent projection on my part because Jason has never once indicated he feels fondness toward me.
Fake friendliness with an undercurrent of gritted teeth? Sure.
Resigned acceptance of our shared role in Kelsey’s life? Yeah.
Irritation at what he considers my flightiness and irresponsibility? Definitely.
But genuine affection for me as a person, unrelated to being his stepdaughter’s dad? Not remotely.
Not even when we fucked the night of Leah’s funeral. That was hard and desperate and almost brutal.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved every minute of it.
“Well, you don’t like my other nickname for you, so this is what you get.”
He cracks an eye open and glares up at me. “What is wrong with my actual name?”
“Nothing, man. Jason,” I correct myself. I’m really not looking for a fight here. “Look, I brought you coffee. And beer, in case you want that instead.”
Jason yawns and scrubs a hand over his face, then levers himself upright and swings his legs around to sit properly. “Thanks,” he says.
