Page 3

Now, I wake up, roll onto my back, stare up at the ornate ceiling of my bedroom and wonder if today will be the day I feel ready to love again.
Or if I ever will.
After twenty-something years, I really doubt it’s possible to love again. Not in the way I did with Tina. I’ve surmised that it’s likely to be more of a companionship than true love.
Is that even what I want?
I park the Bentley and climb out, lifting my sunglasses onto my head.
“Afternoon sir,” Hank, my butler, says, stepping out of the front door and holding it open for me.
“Hank.” I nod at him then turn back to the driveway. “I thought Bella would be here already.”
“Mrs. Dufort, Bella, had to leave. Jamie was unwell, so she said she would message you,” he says. “It was very noisy.”
I laugh as I slap him on the shoulder. “Babies are noisy, Hank.”
They also fill the home with delicious joy, smelly diapers, and a whole bunch of washing. To be fair, I never dealt with much of that. We were able to hire help, and Tina was a hands-on mom.
I’m disappointed to not see my daughter, but Bella is an excellent mother, and I know she will have done right by Jamie.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial.
“Dad, I’m sorry.” Bella answers and I can barely hear her through the screaming.
“Is Blake home?” I stop walking.
“Yes. The doctor is on the way,” she says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Or if it's serious.”
“Yes. Love you, Dad.” She hangs up.
I try not to worry or show the kids, but the thought of losing any of them is so much more pronounced now.
Esmeralda greets me as I walk into the kitchen and drop my keys.
“Afternoon...or nearly evening, sir.” Esmeralda smiles.
“Looks like it’s just me tonight.” I tell her. “Jamie is unwell.”
“I heard.” Esmeralda grins. “Great lungs that kid has.”
I roll up the sleeves of my shirt and glance at my Rolex. It’s not even six but it’s cold outside, even for early February, and the board meeting dragged on today.
“I’ll have an early dinner. In the library, Esmeralda.”
“Certainly. I’ll bring it through in about ten minutes,” she replies.
Walking through the enormous house, I wonder for the hundredth time if I should sell it. The echoes of my wife are in every tile on the floor, on every painting on the wall. In the kids’ rooms. The living areas. In our bedroom.
Jesus, how could I date?
How could I bring another woman home to our house or into our bed? I know for a fact I can’t. I have spent a sum total of one night with another woman since Tina died.
Penelope.
Beautiful Penelope.