“Do you think you’ll ever burn out?” Radley asked.
“Absolutely. It seems like everyone in the department does. But for now, I’m good.” She stood back and surveyed the results of the furniture placement.
“When you go to private practice, we can be partners.”
“That would be so fun, Radley.” She smiled at their friend, then looked at Josh. “How are we doing, Josh? You like where we put this?”
“Yes,” he answered before he looked at it.
“Great! Well, I have to run. I’ve got a date.”
“Not so fast,” said Radley. “Spill.”
“He’s a telemarketer,” she said sheepishly. “Timeshares.”
“Oh, my God, honey,” Radley said, recoiling. “Is the dating scene that bad?”
“Yes.”
“Any port in a storm?” Radley asked.
“I just think if I comb through enough manure, I’ll find my diamond.”
“You deserve someone great, Sarah,” Josh said, surprising himself. “You sell yourself short.”
She tilted her head to look at him. “Thank you?”
“You do. Don’t go out with the telemarketer.”
“Hey. He’s employed, unlike half of the men I meet.”
“Maybe you date crappy men so you’ll always have an excuse for why you’re single,” he said.
“Josh!” Radley said. “You need to work on your filter, honey.” He looked at Sarah. “He’s right, though.”
“Oh, fuck you very much, both of you,” she said fondly. “I’ll text you later. Miracles happen. He could be a good person. See you guys soon.”
She left, and Radley sighed. “If I was straight, I’d marry her.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Maybe. Or not. I don’t know. The idea of sex with a woman makes my testicles retract. What shall we do next, Joshua?”
“I was thinking,” he said. Should he filter this next thing? “Um . . . would you like to live here? Maybe? You could have the third floor. And when you start seeing clients, you could use the space over the garage. But if you don’t want to, it’s okay.”
Radley’s eyes were wide. “That’s a very big offer. Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s too big for one person.”
Radley sat back. “Well, Joshua, that’s incredibly kind of you. But you won’t be alone forever. You’ll find someone again.”
“I’m not . . . it’s only been eleven and a half months.” He swallowed. “I would love to have you. If not you, I’d probably find someone else. A tenant or something. I . . . I might be traveling more in the future, and it would be good to have someone here when I’m gone. Dog care and . . . that kind of thing.” He paused. “Companionship.”
Radley sat quietly for a minute. “My lease runs out in March. We’d have to have ground rules about privacy and all that. You might get sick of me.”
“True.” He felt his lips tug in a smile.
“Maybe we can do a trial run. Six months, and if it’s not working or either of us feels uncomfortable, no hard feelings. I mean, I need my own space, too. And I’d insist on paying rent. A token amount, but still.”
“Okay.”
They looked at each other, then Radley leaped to his feet and hugged him. “Oh, my God, this is so exciting! Can I go see my floor?”
Josh laughed, and Radley ran upstairs. “This house is fucking beautiful!” he yelled behind him.
Good. He wouldn’t be alone. Radley never talked about it, but Josh knew money was tight. This would be a win for them both.
As ever, he thought of Lauren. You would love him, he thought. He’s my best friend, outside of you.
In two weeks, it would be their fourth wedding anniversary. And right on the heels of that, the first anniversary of her death.
A year. Would the grief magically lift? Would it get worse? He supposed he was about to find out.
* * *
ON FEBRUARY 14, Josh started drinking wine at noon. Funny that a year ago, he had been a teetotaler. Well. Widowers deserved to drink, especially on a crap day like today. It was dark and sleeting out, the perfect atmosphere for misery. Nothing like New England’s shitty winter weather to underscore the mood. He went into his bedroom and brought the dogwood tree out to the living room and sat it next to the couch.
“Let’s watch our wedding video,” he practically snarled. Great. So he resented the tree now. And why shouldn’t he? It was feeding off his dead wife.
He pulled up the video on the TV. It had been their tradition to watch it on their anniversary. Three whole times. Thanks for killing her, God. If you exist, you’re an asshole. Go ahead, strike me down. I’m ready.
There was Darius, beaming like a proud papa as he walked Lauren down the aisle. Her mother sobbing, Jen beaming, his own mom teary eyed and smiling. Ben looking so dapper as best man.
And Lauren, so full of life and light that she truly did glow. No tears for her that day—she’d been all smiles. The most beautiful expression on her face, solemn yet joyful, as she looked in his eyes and said the words. “I, Lauren Rose Carlisle, take you, Joshua Stellan Park, to be my husband.”
His own voice had been steady and sure that day, and he remembered knowing with every molecule in his body that this was right. They belonged together.
Their first dance hadn’t been slow and romantic. It had been “For Once in My Life” by Stevie Wonder. Happy, bouncy, a song that brought a smile to everyone, and their guests had clapped along as Josh and Lauren spun and laughed and goofed around on the dance floor. No practiced routine for them, no sir. Just pure, unadulterated joy.
And now he was alone, day-drinking and crying. He pulled Pebbles onto his lap and let his tears seep into her soft fur while she licked his head. Just last year, Lauren had left a path of lit candles to their bedroom. It turned out to be the last time they’d made love.
A year. A fucking year without her. He wasn’t proud of himself for surviving it. He would’ve cheerfully died if it were up to him. He should’ve been hit by a bus, and the laughs they’d have in the Great Beyond if that happened . . .
He would never love anyone the way he’d loved her.
It took him some time to notice the red envelope that had been slipped under his door.
Lauren’s handwriting. Happy Anniversary.