I trudge down the stairs with a heavy heart and walk out to find Claire packing up the spaceship model and Fletcher standing nearby. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Putting this in the Goodwill bin.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s lying, and I won’t tolerate it. I’m not taking his crap anymore, Tristan. I’m done with it. There is no excuse for his behavior.”

“Leave it on the table,” I say.

“Tristan.”

“I said leave it,” I snap. How the fuck do I defend him without telling her what I know?

“Why are you suddenly on his side?” she snaps back. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Just fucking ease up on him, will you?” I sigh. “Have your dinner, have a shower, and go to bed. The boys and I will clean up. Leave Harrison alone for the moment. You’re tired and emotional. Things will seem better tomorrow; deal with it then.”

Fletcher gives me a lopsided smile.

“Tricky, you ready for dinner?” I call.

Patrick comes bouncing in from the living room. “Yes, my favorite.”

I sit in my car and watch Harrison as he walks up the road. I’m outside his school, it’s just around three o’clock, it’s finished for the day, and I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.

Well, I do, but I’m pretty sure Claire would go postal if she did.

Too bad . . . I have to do this. It’s been eating at me all day. I drive the car up alongside him. “Wiz,” I call.

He turns and frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Get in.”

“No.” He keeps walking.

“Get in, or I’m telling her,” I threaten.

He glares at me, exhales heavily, and walks around and gets into my car. “What?”

I hand him a packet of cigars, just like the ones that got wet. He frowns as he looks at them in his hand.

“Do you want to go see your dad?” I ask.

His eyes search mine, and he drops his head and stares at the cigars once more.

That means yes.

I pull out into the street, and after a very silent car ride, I park the car at the cemetery.

He climbs out, and I tentatively follow him through the tombstones. It’s beautiful here, with green lush lawns, and immaculately kept.

WADE ANDERSON

BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER

FOREVER LOVED, SADLY MISSED

I put my hands into my suit pockets as I look on. Harrison wipes the nameplate clean with his shirt and straightens the flowers, and I can tell that he comes here often.

Alone.

I get a lump in my throat as I watch him.

With a shaky hand, he opens the packet and gets out a cigar and carefully places it on the grave.

“Here they are, Dad,” he whispers. “Your favorite.”

I clench my jaw. This is too much.

He takes one out and holds it in his hand, and then he passes one to me.

I frown in surprise.

I take it, pull out a lighter from my pocket, and flick it on. He stares at me for a moment, shocked. I bend and light my cigar and inhale deeply, and then I hold it alight for him. He does the same. He takes in a big breath and coughs as he chokes, and I chuckle as I blow out the thin stream of smoke.

I hold the cigar up and look at it. “Not bad.” I smile. “You got good taste,” I say to the tombstone.

Harrison fights a smile as he takes another drag. He puffs the smoke out like a dragon, and I can tell he doesn’t normally smoke.

“This is Tristan,” Harrison says to the tombstone.

I smile and dip my head in a greeting. “Mr. Anderson.”

Harrison looks at me for a moment and then touches the tombstone. “You can touch it.” He pats it, as if to entice me.

He wants me to shake hands with his dad.

I walk over and put my hand on the top of the cold hard stone.

Goose bumps scatter up my arms, and a weird emotion overwhelms me.

In some strange way, I feel like this is the changing of the guard.

The family he loved . . . is now with me.

In my care, for me to love.

“Nice to meet you, Wade,” I whisper.

Claire

I watch the man in the expensive navy suit and perfect posture—the big-time city businessman who looks so out of place here. He slowly lifts the cigar to his lips and inhales deeply. He says something to the young boy he’s with, then exhales the smoke in a thin stream. His hand rests on the boy’s shoulder as they continue their conversation.

My heart constricts.

I lean up against the tree in the cemetery. Their silhouettes blur through tears as I watch Harrison and Tristan standing over Wade’s grave.

If someone cut my heart open with a knife, it would be less painful than watching this.

The man whom I love, taking my son to see his dead father . . . smoking a cigar with them. And I know that Harrison is too young to smoke, and they shouldn’t be doing this. I should be furious. I should be appalled . . . but then . . .

Wade loved cigars.

My chest shudders as I try to get a hold on my emotions.

This would be so special to Wade . . . having a cigar with his son.

I close my eyes, the pain unbearable.

I went to pick up Harrison from school so I could try to talk to him alone, and then I saw him getting into Tristan’s car, and I followed them here.

This is the last thing I expected to see.

I don’t want them to see me. I turn and walk back to my car, the tears streaming down my face. I get in, and without looking back, I drive home in tears.

I’m in love with a beautiful man.

I toss the salad in the bowl and glance at the clock. Seven o’clock. The boys have done their chores and are watching television.

My heart is bursting with love, and I am totally in awe of Tristan.

He did something, he did something very special for me . . . and for Wade—and to know that he has Harry’s back when I didn’t cuts my heart wide open.

I’ve just realized that he has a specialized skill that, no matter what, I couldn’t give my boys.