I thought he would have knocked on my back door well before this. Maybe my body isn’t as addictive as I thought?

Maybe he’s moved on to eat at another restaurant already.

Damn it. Why did Chloe say that to me? Now it’s all I can think about.

“Morning, Carol,” I call.

“Morning, dear.” Carol smiles. She walks across the road toward me in her fluffy pink dressing gown, coffee cup in hand. “Good morning, Barry.” She smiles down at my little best friend.

Henley’s garage door slowly goes up, and I try not to look.

“Did you see the boys are having a bonfire on Friday night?”

“What?”

“We all got invitations.”

“I didn’t.” I feel a little dejected.

“Check your mailbox.”

I open it to see the invitation, a hand-scribbled note.

Bonfire.

My house, Friday night.

Antony.

Phew . . . oh shit, I’m working.

Henley’s car pulls out of his garage, and he slows down as he passes us and lowers the window. “Morning, ladies.”

I instinctively go up onto my toes in excitement. “Morning.”

“Morning, dear Henley.” Carol smiles. “How are you today, darling?”

“Better now that I’ve seen you two.” He gives a playful wink, and I feel it down to my toes.

Get into the back seat of your car . . . right now!

“Have a good day.” I smile.

“You too.” His eyes hold mine for a beat longer than they should, and then he drives away. Carol and I stare after him like the groupies we are.

“Such a good man.” Carol smiles as she watches his car turn the corner. “I bet Taryn is already planning her next move.”

My eyes flick to Carol. “What?”

“She came over to my house yesterday and told me that she knows that Henley is the man for her. Plans on making a move.”

“Is that right?”

“I guess this bonfire on Friday night will be the perfect opportunity. A few drinks, romantic fire, and music.”

“Hmm,” I reply, distracted by the angry heartbeat sounding in my ears.

“Anyway”—Carol shrugs—“good for her, I guess.”

“Yeah, good for her.”

It would also be especially good for her to meet a grisly end. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going.” I begin to run. “Bye, Carol.”

“Bye, dear.”

I run up the street and around the corner and immediately take out my phone and dial.

“Hello.”

“Hi, it’s Juliet.”

“Hi, Juliet.”

“I have a huge favor to ask.”

“What’s that?”

“Can you cover my shift on Friday night?”

It’s 8:00 p.m.

My second shift at the nursing home and room 206 is calling me.

And I don’t know why. If he doesn’t remember his own son, he’s definitely not going to talk any sense to me. But for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about meeting Henley’s dad.

I knock quietly. “Come in,” a deep voice calls.

I poke my head around the door. “Hello.”

He looks over at me sternly from his bed. “You’ll have to be quick; my wife will be here soon.”

“Okay.” I walk in and replace his water jug. “My name is Juliet.”

“Hi.” His eyes stay fixed on his television.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Bernard,” he replies curtly.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bernard.” I clean his room as I talk. “Are you having a nice day?”

“Was all right before you started jabbering and interrupting M*A*S*H.”

“Oh.” I glance up to see that his television is on the ad channel. “You like the show M*A*S*H?”

“Yep.” He keeps watching the ads. “You better hurry. Caroline will be here to bring me home soon.”

My heart sinks. “Okay.” I clean a little more while I think of what to say. “Is Caroline your wife?”

“Yep.”

“Do you have any children?”

“A son and three angels.”

I stop still. “You’ve lost three children?”

“Before they were born.”

“Oh . . .”

Fuck.

“What’s your son’s name?”

“Henley.”

I smile. He remembered his name.

“He’s four.”

“Four?”

He nods.

“Tell me about him?”

“He’ll be back soon.” He smiles wistfully. “He’s at camp right now.”

“Camp?” I smile. “What kind of camp is it?”

“I don’t know.” He rolls his eyes. “Caroline takes him to these silly things. He prefers to stay home with me.”

Sadness rolls in. His long-term memory is still firmly intact. He’s lost track of time. He thinks it’s back then.

“What’s Henley like?”

“He’s a good boy.” He nods. “Smart like his mother.”

“I bet he is.”

“Can build Lego for hours. You’ve never seen a kid concentrate for so long.”

I smile as I listen.

“He’ll be back from camp soon; we’ll build something big.”

I nod.

“Caroline is coming to take me home.”

My heart sinks.

She’s never coming back.

“And I’m sick of the scratching in my closet,” he continues. “You need to get someone to look into that.”

“What scratching?” I frown.

“That damn cat won’t leave me alone—scratching and scratching on the door to get out.”

I smile. “Do you want me to check on it?”

“You’d better,” he replies seriously as his eyes stay focused on the ad channel.

I open the closet door to humor him, and I see a pile of photo albums. “What are these?” I ask.

“Oh, they’re the photos.”

“Can you show me?” I take them out and put them on the bed.

He shuffles through them until he gets to the red one. He opens it to the first page. “This is Caroline.” It’s a picture from their wedding. She looks like Henley: same dark features and big eyes. “She’s pretty.”

He nods. “The most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.”

I smile and turn the page to see her pregnant. “She’s having a baby?”

“That’s Henley in there.” He points to her stomach.

I smile as I turn a few more pages and see a little boy laughing in his mother’s arms.

He’s probably two. He’s wearing cute little overalls, and his dark hair has a curl to it.

The way his mother is looking at him is pure adoration.

I turn the page and see another photo of him on her shoulders, holding her two hands and leaning down to kiss his father, who is standing beside them.

So much love.

My heart constricts, and I feel suddenly emotional for all that Henley has lost. I blink away the tears.

Why am I crying?

I don’t want Bernard to see my tears, so I close the book. “We should do this another time. I don’t want to keep you.”

“Okay.” He turns back to the television. “Caroline is coming to take me home soon.”

“I know she is.”

I return his photo albums to the closet and pull his blankets up over him and restraighten his bed linens. I fill his glass with water. “Can I get you anything, Bernard?”

“Shh with all the jabbering. I’m watching M*A*S*H.”

I glance up at the television to see a Wonder Mop being advertised. “I’ll leave you to it.” I walk to the door and look back at Bernard. He’s concentrating on the television, totally engrossed.

With a heavy heart I walk up the corridor and get back to work.

Sometimes life just isn’t fair.

I peer out the upstairs window of my spare room.