Page 52 of What Happens at Nightfall

“Ben?” Adam bent over and extracted Cookie Monster’s arm from under the door.

“Go away.” Ben was lying face down on his bed. His iPad lay open next to him. On the home screen, Kate, forever thirty-six, grinned out at him, one arm around each kid, windswept on a peak in New Hampshire. Little Ben, front tooth missing, looked so open and happy in that picture that it made his heart hurt.

Adam held up the discarded stuffed animal. “Why did you throw Cookie Monster?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” came Ben’s muffled voice from the pillow.

Adam looked at the Cookie Monster in his hands. It was a perfectly normal Cookie Monster. No smoke coming from its mouth. No red eyes. Just a slightly battered stuffy that had gotten mangy from being put through the wash that time Ben had puked on him in the grips of a truly epic case of norovirus.

Adam tried to remember who had first mentioned evil Cookie Monster.

Jess. Jess had.

Adam felt a trickle of unease, like cold breath against the back of his neck. He set Cookie down on Ben’s dresser and sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling the mattress sag under him.

“Are you angry at me?”

Ben turned his head to glare at Adam. “Why did you bring her here again?”

“Jess?” Adam was taken aback by the depth of Ben’s hostility. “She was helping me with something.”

“Yeah, I saw.” Ben attempted to sneer, but it came out wobbly. “You don’t know who she is. You shouldn’t trust her.”

Adam looked at his son quizzically. “She brought you home the other night when you were alone and upset.”

Ben scrambled to a sitting position, burning with intensity and Degree deodorant. “Maybe she did it on purpose. Maybe she planned the whole thing just to get to you.”

It was flattering, but . . . “I don’t think women are going to go to those sorts of lengths to get my attention,” said Adam mildly. “I’m not that much of a catch.”

“She shouldn’t be here, Dad. She’s trouble.”

There it was again, that prickling on the back of his neck. Evil Cookie Monster. None of this happening until Jess showed up. Adam didn’t know what to think; he didn’t have the brain space to think. “Is this about your mom? Ben, is that why you went to the tomb the other night? To try to talk to Mom?”

Ben hunched his head into his shoulders. “I knew it wouldn’t work.”

So, yes. How could he help Ben with his feelings when he’d never dealt with his own? Deep down, he was still angry—and guilty. “I think the important thing is remembering her as she was and the time you had with her.”

“So that’s it? The time we had with her? That’s all?”

“It’s not all,” Adam hedged. “It’s a lot. Mom is a part of you. She’ll always be a part of you—and Melinda.”

“But now she’s gone and you’re ready to move on?” Ben clutched a stuffed T. rex from the Bronx Zoo. Chomper the T. rex snarled at Adam over Ben’s clenched arms. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s been four years, so you’re replacing Mom.”

Ben dashed away a tear with the back of his hand, scowling to try to hide it.

Great. Adam had a crying woman downstairs and a crying kid upstairs. He was going to need to invest in more tissues.

“I’m not going all Captain von Trapp on you and Melinda. I’m not planning to go find a bride at the nearest nunnery. Among other things, we have blinds, not drapes. She’d never be able to sew you outfits out of them.”

Ben was not amused.

Adam let out a sigh. “I’m not ruling out the possibility of dating again. But not right now!” he added hastily, as Ben’s expression darkened. “I’m not planning to date anyone anytime soon. Just—someday.”

Someday it would be nice to not be alone. He loved his kids, but he never felt more alone than at moments like these.

“You were kissing that woman.”

“I am human. Parents are people too.” Adam decided he didn’t need to go into too much detail on that. “I don’t intend to make a habit of it. I don’t think she does either.”