Then she closed her eyes, and sucked harder at her thumb, and within seconds, she was asleep. Josh could hear the women in his bedroom, sorting through his wife’s things, and he was so relieved not to have done this horrible task alone, so angry that they were laughing, so lonely after that short note from Lauren, so fed up with himself for being a goddamn moody bastard.
But mostly so glad for the warmth of the baby next to him. A little genetic piece of Lauren lived inside her.
Maybe Jen would give him Octavia. It seemed only fair.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, Donna and Jen had left, taking the baby, alas. They’d also taken the majority of Lauren’s clothes, scarves, shoes, purses. Some would be donated, some they were keeping.
Sarah was still here. She, too, had a bag and was scrolling through her phone, at home on the couch with Pebbles at her side.
Would she wear those things? Would he have to see her one day in Lauren’s sweater, or wearing Lauren’s earrings? The very idea made him feel both gutted and a little vicious. She wouldn’t look nearly as good. She’d look like the runner-up she was.
Jesus, he was turning mean. Lauren would hate him these days. Good. He hated her for dying.
“How you doing, Josh?” Sarah asked, pushing a strand of long blond hair behind her ear.
“Fine.”
“This can’t have been easy.”
No shit, Sherlock. “It’s fine. It’s what Lauren wanted.”
She kept toying with her hair. “Is that what’s in the letter? A list of . . . tasks?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Sorry. Not my business.” She forced a smile. “So. You mentioned you’re going furniture shopping?”
“Yeah. Radley should be here in a few minutes. He lives near Jen, and he’s picking up their truck.”
“Great.” She did her signature move of scooping her long hair to one side of her neck.
“Sarah, we get it. You have long blond hair.”
“What?”
“You. You’re always drawing attention to your hair in case someone missed that it’s long and blond. It’s annoying.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Wow. So sorry to offend you.”
“It’s just . . . adolescent, okay? You should be more aware.”
She gave him a pointed look. “I’m gonna give you a pass because I think you’re really sad today, but in my heart, I’m saying fuck off. I miss her, too, you know.”
“I know. Best friends from third grade.” Sarah had used that as an introduction every goddamn time she’d come to an appointment with them. Her way of saying, Hi! I’m important!
“Second grade, actually.”
“If you were best friends, why were you always so . . . pissy with her?” he asked. “You think no one noticed? Even at our wedding, you looked like you bit a lemon.”
“Josh! I did not! I was happy for her.”
“Yeah. And jealous.”
“Yes! And jealous! They can exist at the same time, you know.”
“It was more than jealousy. You resented her. Long before we got married. You always felt like you came in second, and you blamed her for it. She felt it, you know. You only became a great friend when she was sick. When it was easy because you finally had something on her. Health.”
She burst into tears. “Jesus, Josh! That’s so unfair.”
It was. But he didn’t say anything else. Just shrugged, like an asshole.
“How dare you!” she shouted, jumping to her feet. “How fucking dare you, Joshua? I loved her like a sister. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not the only one who lost someone. You’re not the first, you’re not the last, and you’re not unique. This poor-widower-who-can-barely-feed-himself act is getting a little tired, don’t you think?”
“I think you should leave,” he said, looking at the wall over her head.
“Oh, believe me, I’m already leaving. You’re welcome for the help, by the way. Asshole.”
She breezed past him and Pebbles, who was wagging her tail, hoping for a pet. A second later, the door slammed.
“Good,” he said.
But it wasn’t. He’d been a dick, and he felt himself flush with guilt and shame.
“Hello, Joshua! Can I come in?” Radley.
Josh went into the living room. “Hey. Yeah, of course.”
“Hey, I passed a woman on the stairs. She was angry and crying?”
Shame heated his face. “Yeah. Lauren’s friend.”
“Uh-oh. Want to talk about it?”
“No. Let’s get this couch downstairs, and then the bed, okay?”
“You’re the boss.”
Josh and Radley removed the cushions and throw pillows from the couch. Lauren had bought them from her beloved Target, and when, goddamnit, when would he stop thinking of her every second of the day?
“Heave ho,” Radley said as Pebbles sniffed and wagged and licked Radley’s jeans. They wrestled the couch out the door and onto the elevator, came back for the cushions and pillows, went down and loaded everything into the truck, then repeated the process with the bed.
That one was harder, emotionally speaking.
The bed where he’d first made love to Lauren. The bed where they’d spent their first night as husband and wife. The bed where they’d held each other so close the day of her diagnosis. The last place she’d been in this apartment, that night when she woke up, gasping for air.
“You okay?” Radley asked.
“Yes.”
The new mattress would be delivered later today, and the movers would take the old one with them.
They drove to ReStore and dropped off the bed, which was made out of burled maple and snatched up immediately by a young couple.
“Should I tell them it’s cursed?” Josh asked.
“Probably not,” Radley said. “This place is great. I should totally shop here.”
“What’s your place like?” Josh asked. It occurred to him that he should have asked by now.
“Unremarkable. I share an apartment in a two-family house,” he said. “Nice street. Want to come over some night for dinner?”
No. I never want to go anywhere. “Sure,” he said.
“Okay, pal, let’s go see what you like at West Elm, shall we?”