I paused, the coffee mug halfway between the table and my mouth. I set it back down, ready to cut Trudy off, but she continued before I could say a word.
“We used to talk all the time about what we wanted the other person to do if something happened to one of us.”
“Miss Trudy—”
“Hush, Cash. The grown-ups are talking.”
I chuckled at her admonishment, picking up my cup. Might as well finish my drink since she wouldn’t let me speak.
“He always told me he wanted me to find someone else. That he didn’t want me to be alone.” She sighed heavily, and I knew she must have loved him dearly. “I told him he better die alone because there wasn’t a woman on this earth who could take my place.”
I spit my coffee out across the table and laughed. “Miss Trudy,” I started.
“Am I wrong?” she asked, a lone eyebrow rising with her question.
“No, ma’am,” I admitted, shaking my head.
“Anyway. I promised Terry that if I met someone, I would give it an honest try. That I wouldn’t just write off every man that approached me.”
“And did you?” I asked, my gaze focused on the window and the world outside the small shop.
“I did. There were a couple of men over the years I thought might go the distance. None of them ever measured up to my Terry. But I go to sleep every night knowing I did what he asked me to do.”
I thought about Rachel’s letter. Her words stung once again as I ran over them in my head. Her words telling me she knew I loved her the best I could. And the idea that there was someoneelse out there for me. Someone I could love the way I couldn’t love her.
A vision of Rose swam before my eyes. Her pink fucking hair and whiskey eyes. Her sexy little body that I could pick up and toss around. I squirmed in my seat, embarrassed to be getting hard in front of Trudy.
“My point is, Cash. You have to try.”
“It’s been less than three months, Trudy.” The guilt of even considering moving on in the short amount of time since Rachel died had my dick deflating instantly.
“I’m not telling you to go out and find someone. I’m telling you to be open to someone finding you.” She patted my arm and left me alone.
When she disappeared behind the swinging door, I tossed a few twenties in the tip jar and slipped outside, making my way back to my bike. I had an appointment today I couldn’t miss again.
I sat on Haizley’s couch, arguing with myself in my head. The asshole on my shoulder told me I didn’t need to talk about shit. But then there was Rachel’s voice in my head, begging me to talk to someone.
“How long do you think is the right amount of time to grieve?”
Haizley set her phone face down on her lap and looked up. “There is no set amount of time that is right. Each person is different. Some people grieve loss forever, never moving on. Others can’t be alone for various reasons and move on immediately. The amount of time you grieve does not correlate to how much you loved the person you lost.”
I knew she was right. But the world had a different opinion. Society had very specific views on how fast or slow one moved on after losing someone.
It didn’t matter if it was a spouse or a child. A friend or a lover. People expected you to grieve for what they deemed an appropriate amount of time.
The problem was, everyone differed on what was appropriate.
“Rachel wanted me to move on,” I said. I didn’t know how she did it, but Haizley had a way of getting me to admit things I didn’t want to tell anyone.
“What did she say?”
I cleared my throat but still had trouble getting the words past the lump in my chest. I rubbed at my chest and spat out, “She told me I was her forever, but she wasn’t mine.”
I stood and walked to the window. I couldn’t look at Haizley while I said this. The guilt that Rachel didn’t feel loved the way she loved ate at me. How could I love someone else more than her without it affecting me?
“She told me to grieve how I needed to. But when I met my forever, even if it was the day after her death, to love her the way I couldn’t love Rachel.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stem the shame. Haizley was quiet behind me. I wanted to scream at her to say something. When I finally turned around, Haizley wasn’t even looking at me.
