“I know.” I dropped my head.
“Hey.” He reached across the table, tipping my chin with his forefinger to lift my head back up. “No matter what he says, you’ll always have me, babe. I’ve got you.”
“I know,” I said in a low voice, and I couldn’t help wondering if he’d used those exact words with Melanie when it came to her sister.
And now look at her. Dead.
* * *
Roland had a friend in town named Felipe who was going to be around for the next three days. Roland decided he’d set up a lunch for him that same afternoon after getting the call, so we hurried back home and informed Yadira. She went to the grocery store for what she needed and while we waited for him to arrive, Roland and I changed clothes and got ready.
Yadira had put together steaks, potatoes, and steamed vegetables, and we all ate at the dining table, our glasses of wine being refilled every so often by her.
Felipe was a handsome guy. He was about an inch or so shorter than Roland, who was six-foot-three, and he had warm tan skin, like he bathed in sunlight frequently. His hair was curly and shoulder length, two dimples in his cheeks.
At the six-top table, Roland sat across from me, and Dylan was sitting to my right. Felipe was sitting next to Roland, diagonally across from me. I noticed Yadira had asked Dylan if he wanted any wine and he passed, requesting sweet tea instead.
“You know Felipe does graphic designing too, Samira?” Roland looked at me, his wineglass in hand.
“Yeah?” I put my attention on Felipe.
“I do,” Felipe said, his Colombian accent thick. “Roland tells me you do it as a hobby.”
“I do.” I smiled. “I’m not a professional by any means, but I do love to put designs together. I was thinking of making digital prints and selling them online. I want to start up my own small business or something, sell stickers, decals, prints—all that.” I smiled.
“That would be nice, and I know many people who are making a killing doing that right now.” Felipe flashed his smile and I smiled in return. “I’d love to see your work—if you have any.”
“Do you have any work to see?” Roland asked. “You have the iPad now, right?”
“I do. I’ve tried my hand at some things, but I don’t think they’re good enough to show yet.” I pressed my lips, fighting the urge to grin.
“You’re modest,” said Felipe, smirking and then sipping his wine. “Modesty in a woman is good for Roland.”
Roland slid his gaze over to Felipe and I noticed a moment of tension spark between them, but Roland simply nodded and sipped his wine again.
I glanced at Dylan, who was using his fork to move his vegetables around on his plate.
“Did you know his first wife well?” After I’d asked, all of their eyes were on me. None of them smiled. They appeared almost stunned by my question. “What? Is talking about her forbidden now that I’m around?” I joked.
Dylan dropped his fork and Roland’s jaw ticked. Felipe cleared his throat and sat up in his chair, placing his glass down. “I knew her well enough—through Roland, of course. But do not worry, there is no competition to be had. You are a much better wife to him. Nicer on the eyes too.”
Felipe chuckled and swung his eyes to Roland, who huffed a laugh. Dylan sipped his tea with a straight face, staring at a wall across from him and avoiding everyone else’s.
When lunch was over, the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, the leftover rays streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Roland took the guys to the garage, where they played darts and drank some more (except Dylan), and while they did, I dismissed myself and figured I’d help Yadira clean up.
But my mind kept going back to those journals. I had been thinking about them all day, even while trying my damnedest not to. Now, Roland was occupied, and the shed was calling my name.
“Lunch was good?” Yadira asked, washing the last of the dishes.
“It was. Thank you for that.”
“I was thinking fish for dinner. I’m not sure if Felipe is staying, but I’ll make extra, just in case.”
“That’ll be good.”
“And strawberry shortcake for dessert.”
“Mm-hmm.” I tossed some potato peels in the trash and then went for the broom on the hook. I looked out of the double doors, past the back deck, at the desolate shed in front of the trees.
“Oh—don’t worry about that, Samira. I’ve got it.” Yadira turned, wiping her hands off on her apron and then extending an arm, reaching for the broom. “I’ll sweep.”
“Oh. Okay.” I handed it to her.
One of her brows peaked as she stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I think I’m just going to go out to the shed while Roland is hanging out. Clear up more of her things.”