“Can you cut all these into big chunks for me?”
“Sure, I’d be happy to.”
I pulled the cutting board close and started on the pile of onions.
As I chopped onions and peeled garlic cloves, she washed and quartered the carrots, potatoes, and celery. This atmosphere felt different from when Daniella and I did household chores together. Preparing ingredients with Lacey felt warmer somehow. Something simmered between us, just beneath the surface.
I’d never understood the appeal of domesticity. It always sounded soul-crushingly boring. But in this moment, I could maybe see why my married coworkers talked so fondly about coming home. Seeing their wives’ familiar, affectionate smiles after a long day, giving them a hello kiss, helping them keep house.
When I finished my share of the vegetables, I noticed Lacey still working on hers. And there were tears streaming down her cheeks. What the hell?
“Did the onions get to you?”
She shook her head, quickly wiping her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I thought I’d be fine once I got home.”
Remembering her text from earlier, I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tough day at work?”
She smiled sadly. “Something like that.”
“You can talk to me.”
I wasn’t even sure why I said it; what had started between us as instant physical attraction and carefree fun was quickly turning into something more serious. Normally that would be enough to send me running, but right now, all I wanted was comfort her. Hold her tight. Make her pain go away.
“They put down Charlie today,” she said haltingly as a fresh wave of tears filled her eyes.
“Who’s Charlie?”
“An old basset hound. He was so sweet . . . I loved him. B-but he was in kidney failure, and they didn’t want him to suffer anymore.” She buried her face in her hands as quiet sobs shook her shoulders.
I stood awkwardly for a moment. If there was one thing I was clueless about, it was crying women. Daniella wasn’t the emotional type, I had no sisters, and my mom was one tough cookie. The one and only time I’d seen her cry was at my dad’s funeral.
Then realization struck. That’s exactly what this was, but without the casket or flowers. Lacey had lost someone she cared about today. Before I knew it, I had pulled her to my chest, shushing her cries and telling her all about the last person I’d lost: my old teammate, Marcus Sutton, who my new best friend was named after.
As I spoke, the memories rushed back.
Watching my mom become a shadow of her former self after losing her other half hadn’t put me on the fast track to commitment. The spunky, book-club attending, wine-swilling, foul-mouthed woman I’d grown up loving because she was so different from my friends’ soccer moms had been replaced by a hollowed-out shell who wandered the house with a vacant look in her eyes.
Mom tended to her garden. Watched the evening news. Occasionally brought over a pan of lasagna for Daniella and me to share. Just went through the motions of life. She put on a brave face, but that kind of loss wasn’t something that healed. And while I loved her as much as ever, I hated the situation we were in.
Lacey’s sobs subsided as she listened to my story. I wasn’t even sure why I was telling her all this. I just needed to fill the silence, needed to occupy her with something other than her own sorrow.
“Shortly after I lost my dad, I flew back to Fallujah. I’d been there only a few days when a car bomb was detonated near our post, sending shrapnel flying in every direction.”
Lacey pulled back from her spot at my chest to listen. She could tell that this was the clincher of my story, the freshest and deepest wound.
“Marcus Sutton had a new wife at home, a house with a white picket fence, and way too much on the line. I held his head in my lap and felt his blood oozing through my uniform pants.” My voice shook, and I took a deep breath to compose myself.
What I didn’t tell Lacey was that that was it for me. As the light faded in Sutton’s eyes, a single tear streamed down my cheek. All I could think of was Marcus’s bride waiting at home, just like Mom still waited for Dad. Her heart might have kept on beating, but she’d become a ghost right along with him. I couldn’t even imagine the heartbreak that Finley Sutton was in for. I knew that torment would last for years to come. So right then and there I’d vowed fuck love. It got you nowhere but broken. No fucking thank you.
Lacey stepped back and wiped her eyes a final time. “I’m sorry for breaking down like that. I know losing a dog is nothing like losing a best friend, and especially in such a tragic way.” Her eyes met mine, and I could see that she felt my pain.
“Please don’t apologize. I’m glad I’m here with you tonight.”
Letting out a sigh, she nodded. “Me too.”
“We’ll have a good meal, and you can tell me more about Charlie if you want,” I offered.
She smiled sadly. “No, really, I’m okay. It’s just going to be weird walking in tomorrow and seeing his bed empty. I think this is just hitting me hard because I’m homesick. I’m feeling extra emotional.”
“Trust me, I understand loss more than anyone. You can talk to me about it if it helps.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Deciding that the best thing to do was to keep us occupied, I found the butter, greased the Dutch oven standing on the stove, and switched on the heat so it would be ready to sauté. I turned around to grab the onions and saw Lacey watching me.