Sandy - Melanie Moreland Page 0,3

diagnosed with late-onset MS, the conversations were numerous but not as funny. Even then, I was in denial he would ever leave me. I couldn’t imagine life without him.

Now, I was having trouble remembering life with him. Happiness seemed difficult to find and harder to hold.

Life was harder.

I cupped Reid’s cheek and offered him a tight smile.

“I’ll do my best.”

The suite rang with laughter. There were three different treatment areas set up, and I had taken advantage of them all. My skin was glowing, my nails buffed, and my toes sparkled with fresh polish. I sighed as I rolled my shoulders, the massage having worked wonders on my sore muscles. Max always teased me that I carried my tension in my shoulders. “Like cement,” he would mumble while trying ineffectually to rub them. While his embraces and soft words were perfection, his massage technique was terrible. After a few bumbling, inept attempts on his behalf to rub my shoulders early on in our relationship, he treated me to a bimonthly massage. After he died, I had stopped going. I stopped doing a lot of things.

I looked around the room, smiling at the girls. Young, happy, and in love, they all made me smile, even as my heart ached to remember that time in my life. I loved that they included me in their girl time. To me, they were all extensions of my family—adopted daughters—and I loved them all.

Becca came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a thick, white terry cloth robe. Her skin glowed—from the facial or the wine she had consumed I wasn’t sure, but she looked radiant. She had been late this morning, blushing as she rushed out to the car, Reid following her and catching her before she stepped in to kiss her long and lovingly. Judging from the smug expression on his face, there was no doubt as to why we waited for her, and it had set the tone for the day with constant teasing and banter.

She flung herself beside me with a grin. “How you doin’?” she winked and deadpanned. “Looking good, Sandy.”

I laughed. “So do you.”

Her phone buzzed and I chuckled. “I think Reid is missing you today.”

She rolled her eyes, but her grin was wide. “I think he is. My phone has been blowing up all day.”

I patted her hand. “That’s a good thing, Becca. Enjoy it.”

She nodded, her eyes on the screen. “I do. I love his silly texts and pictures.”

“He worships you,” I informed her.

Her cheeks flushed, and this time, I knew it wasn’t the wine. “The feeling is mutual.”

“I know.”

Cami and Dee strolled over to the seating area and curled up on the sofa across from us. Like me, they were both relaxed from their pampering. Liv and Emmy were finishing up with their massages and would join us. Bentley had arranged not only a light lunch, but a full afternoon tea to be served in the room. He knew how much I enjoyed a real afternoon tea, and I was touched by his efforts.

We chatted and laughed until the rest of the girls joined us. We sat, sipping our beverages and talking about a multitude of things. Life, houses, work, motherhood, and finally, the conversation turned to men. There was some oversharing, funny stories, and cute moments of the antics of all their men, and Becca turned to me.

“Sandy,” she began.

I shook my head. “I know what you’re about to say, Becca. I’m fine. Honestly, I am. I have bad days, and one in particular last week, but that is to be expected.”

Emmy leaned forward, taking my hand. “What brought it on, Sandy?”

With a sigh, I told them about the storm and my dream. They all had tears in their eyes as I recalled Max’s words.

“Do you think it was real?” Dee asked quietly. “Do you think Max was telling you it’s time to move on?”

I shrugged, unsure how to answer. It had felt real. His words had echoed the sentiments he had expressed so often when we would discuss the future and he would insist I had to accept the thought of one without him. How he wanted me to find happiness and love again.

“You have too much in you to give to spend the rest of your life grieving for me, my girl.”

“I can’t fathom loving anyone else, Max,” I informed him. It was the simple truth.

He had run his fingers over my cheek. “Not the way you love me, but you can love again,