Page 9 of Love Expert

“Dad!”

“Yeah!” I thrust my fist into the air. “I saw, buddy!Andyou did it in front of Mom, too!”

He rolls his eyes, casting a fast glance across her headstone. Because that’s all it is to him. A headstone. A name carved into rock. Anideaof a person, but not someone he actually knows or cares about. How could he? He’s eight years old, and she died about forty-five minutes after he entered this world.

“You’re so weird,” he snickers. “She didn’t even see, silly. Shecan’t.”

“Sure she can. Angels have eyes and get to visit their families all the time.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawls. “I’m gonna go for three, okay? You ready?”

“Yep.” I bring my knees up and rest my elbows on top. “Suppose I should drop a letter into Maggie’s mailbox or something. Tell her I’m sorry for being a dick. Maybe put your obituary in the envelope too, since it’sclearshe has no damn clue you ditched already. I don’t really wanna have an entire conversation about it, and she’s probably one of those super-weepy weird chicks inclined to hug after discussing this sort of stuff.” I toss my blade of grass and select another. “Definitelydon’t want a pity hug. She’s gonna hear about it at some point, and I know she’s gonna feel really bad once she does.”

One. One. One. One.

“She was so fucking sweet back in school,” I sigh. “Nicest girl I’d ever met, so I know guilt will smack her hard once she realizes you didn’t even have the good fortune of cleaning me out in a divorce.”

One. One. One. Two. Zero.

“Ramone thinks she’s hot, and he’s not even shy about it. He’d lick her if she stood still long enough.”

And we both know that bothers you.

Scowling, I bring my eyes back to her name. Her date of birth. Her picture, framed and frozen in time. Forever twenty-five: young, beautiful, and eternally excited for the baby in her belly to arrive. “Don’t act like you know me anymore. It’s been eight years, babe. If he wants to look, I’m totally cool with it, and if she returns his affections, then that’s between the two of ‘em. So long as they keep it decent in public, it’s got nothing to do with me.”

“Dad!” Jeremy snatches up his ball and skitters my way. “Dad, she’s here!”

“She’s…” Rattled, I swing around in search of… who? Maggie? Why the hell would I automatically assumesheis Maggie? Instead, I lock eyes with an older woman over fifty yards away. Her gray hair freshly released from rollers, her dress as flowery as the flowers I picked up from the grocery store an hour ago, and her eyes… fuck. They stare into my soul. “Barbara’s here.” Hurrying, I press a kiss to the tips of my fingers, then slap the digits onto Aria’s framed photo. “We’re outta here. Happy birthday, babe.”

Jeremy sets his ball on the grass, kisses his fingers, and presses them to the picture. “Happy birthday, Mom. I hope the other angels in heaven made you a cake today. And if they did, I hope it’s a chocolate cake, withsprinkles and whipped cream and maybe some candy on top, too. And ice cream. And did you used to like popping candy?Ilike popping candy, but I’ve never had it on a cake before, or even with ice cream. Don’t you think that would be pretty fun, though?”

Yeah, baby. That sounds a-freakin’-mazing.

“I think you just described her favorite cake ever.” I scoop up his ball, allow one last glance over Aria’s smiling photograph, then I grab Jeremy’s hand and lead him away from the mom he always deserved.

We were robbed. And though I get whyIwas slapped by the hands of fate, I can’t for the life of me understand why he was.

He was forty-five-minutes old, for Christ’s sake. What could he have possibly done to deserve that?

“You wanna head to the store after this? We could buy cake mix and popping candy. Ice cream too, if you want.”

“Really?” He folds his head back and licks his lips. Slurping sound and all. “You wanna bake a birthday cake for Mom?”

“Sure. It’s her day, ain’t it?”

“Do you think we should invite Maggie over for cake?”

My heart fucking skips and sizzles. It jumps and aches and, for just a second in time, I’m pretty sure it stops. But then I take a deep breath, restart that shit, and unlock my car. “I’m not sure about that, buddy. She’s probably busy.” And I have no intention ofeverasking her to join us for dead-wife birthday cake. “Maybe next year.”

Not.

“Detective Caster!” Barbara calls out from all the way across the cemetery, waving with her hand high above her head. “Hi, Detective Caster!”

“Quick.” I open the back door and herd my son inside. “We donotwanna start a conversation with her, or we’ll never have time for cake.”

He fusses with his seatbelt. Tugging on the cord… Twisting it… Shoving me toward the edge of insanity as Barbara gallops this way. He stabs the seatbelt into the buckle… and misses.

“Dude!” I snag the silver end and clip him in.