The seafood would be too expensive, unfortunately, so it was going to have to be pork chops.

When I went to the grocery store, Joe’s truck was there. When I came back, it was gone. This made my stomach clutch with fear and it made me act like an idiot. As I put away groceries, vacuumed, folded clothes, loaded and unloaded the washer and dryer and did ironing, I found reasons to go to the kitchen window and look out to his drive, checking to make sure he came home.

But he had to come home, for me. I might have only ever had Tim but I wasn’t stupid. A man like Joe Callahan didn’t wait up for a woman until two o’clock in the morning; he didn’t throw her on his bed and have sex with her for four straight hours; he didn’t react that way, reflexively especially, when she told him she had to leave; and he didn’t want her to come back unless he wanted her.

Which, I told myself, all meant he wanted me. Not for a convenient f**k, there was more going on here and I knew it.

That bitterness and humiliation had washed away and something else replaced it. Something I didn’t expect, not from Joe, hell, not from anyone, but something that I liked.

Tim and I had great sex our whole married life. I was not his first, he had a girl before me, but I was his last. We’d taught each other everything we knew. We were open, honest, even adventurous and it was regular and often, not like clockwork but spontaneous, fun, sexy. We both had healthy appetites, Tim especially and he loved it that I met his appetite (though, he didn’t brag about that or at least not that I knew about).

But he’d never f**ked me on the hood of a car, one second working on an engine, the next going at it with me like it was necessary for his existence. He’d never f**ked me for four hours straight like he was just as hungry for it as I was, like he had to get his fill for fear the beauty of it would be torn away, never to be had again.

And I understood that now. God, did I.

I didn’t take anything for granted, not anymore.

I was going to get my fill.

When I went to the kitchen to start the pork chops, I saw Joe’s truck in the drive and instead of that settling inside me, my body electrified. I felt the specter of his mouth, his hands, his shaft driving inside me and it was so strong, I had to lean into the counter to hold myself up when my knees went weak.

Shit, he was like a drug and I realized I’d been jonesing for him all day.

I also realized, dumping the breadcrumbs and spices into the Ziploc bag, preparing the breading for the chops, that I liked him.

He shoveled my snow. He saw me outside shoveling my snow and he knew I’d given up the chore to see to Kate and Dane and he’d finished it for me, making it safe for me and my girls to pull out of our drive.

And he remembered the conversation about the condoms. And, even though I was guessing it was well out of character, he’d tried to explain his behavior with Kenzie and he’d had a good reason to be angry even though he took it too far in my opinion. But he was an aggressively masculine man, she had to know that and she’d played with it. She should have known better, she should have seen that coming.

And he’d waited up for me, until late, and he didn’t want me to go.

I liked that he didn’t talk much and I liked that he let his face speak for him. I liked how big he was and that he could carry me around and he did, that he could pick me up and plant me in his truck and he did. I liked that he was rough with me, no, I loved that. I wasn’t the mother of his children. I was a woman, a woman he wanted and he made that abundantly clear and I liked that too.

And I liked that sometimes he looked at me and there was something working in his eyes, something I didn’t quite get but whatever it was, it was about me.

And it was good.

I just knew it.

Joe Callahan couldn’t be more different than Tim Winters and to my shock, I was okay with that. I wasn’t stupid enough to think after the last, two crazy days that Joe was going to be the next love of my life. But I wanted this, I wanted him, I wanted to explore what was happening and I wanted it a lot.

And I couldn’t wait to get back to his house, his bed, him.

Dane came over for pork chops and after, he helped Kate do the dishes (another checkmark on the good column for Dane) and then he and Kate settled in the recliners in the study to do their homework. I sat with Keira on the couch in the living room and read at the same time Keira was watching TV and I watched Dane and Kate.

They were cute together. Dane was a handsome kid and he complimented my pretty daughter. And he was gentle with Kate. I liked the way he looked at her when she was talking like there was nothing else he wanted to do but hear what she had to say. But I especially liked it when she didn’t know he was looking at her like he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and he couldn’t believe his luck.

So, okay, I liked my daughter’s boyfriend. I smiled to myself, tilted my head to my book, didn’t read a word and felt that hollowing out of my belly.

Just a little longer to wait.

* * * * *

I pulled on my violet underwear that was liberally dosed with black lace. In fact, the ass of the panties was all lace; there was only a lace-edged triangle at the front. The demi-bra had such a deep edge of lace you could see my ni**les through it. The bottom of the cup and the straps were violet satin, however.

Over these I pulled on my black satin nightie, no lace or other adornment. It was just low cut so you could see the bra and had slits to my h*ps on the sides so you could see the panties if I moved.

I’d bought these for Tim about two weeks before he was murdered and never worn them. I was holding onto them for a special occasion like, say, when the girls were spending the night at his parents’ house. He’d liked my sexy undies and nighties and I’d made it a habit to wear only them for him.

After he died, I’d meant to throw the lingerie out.

Now I was glad I didn’t.

I yanked on the black satin robe that went with the nightie, not wanting to wear Tim’s robe to Joe’s. Tim’s robe could stay on the door when I was with Joe. It might be chill outside but Joe wasn’t that far away.

Before I left my dark room, I bit my lip and put my fingers to my wedding rings. I hadn’t taken them off, never considered it, but I wondered if I should now.

My eyes went to the picture on my nightstand and I felt something move in me then settle. It wasn’t painful. I’d already had the pain, nearly a year and a half of it.

It was life.

“You know I’ll always love you,” I whispered to the picture.