Page 31 of Six Month Wife

Eventually, I finish dressing the wounds and stand up to make some notes on his chart.

“All done here, Mr. Harris. But promise me you’ll keep an eye out for those sneaky squirrels next time.”

“Will do, Doc. Thanks.” He reaches out and gives my hand a firm shake, holding it for a moment. “Take care of that wife of yours, Doctor. She's the best part of your life, hands down.”

I nod, and he offers me a small smile before he’s wheeled back out to the assisted living facility’s van. I watch him go, feeling strangely unsettled.

The words stick.

In my mind, I see her barefoot in her living room, curled up with a glass of wine, sharp as hell and already under my skin.

Six months isn’t that long.

Suddenly, out of the blue, it isn't long enough.

Back in the break room, I pour myself a quick cup of coffee and wrap my hands around the hot paper cup. Before I can take a sip, my phone beeps in my pocket.

I pull it out to see my dad’s name.

The last time we spoke was the morning Roger died. His voice was clipped and clinical, delivering the news like he was updating a court docket. No pause. No condolences. Just, “Thought you’d want to know, seeing how close you two were.”

I haven’t spoken to him since. And I wasn’t planning to, especially not now, not with the will in motion and the six-month marriage clause already in effect.

The last thing I need is Leeland Matthews sniffing around something he wasn’t invited to.

Despite everything telling me to ignore the call, I answer. I can’t avoid him for six months. Hopefully I can give him enough to keep him at arm’s length.

“Hey, Dad.”

“How are you, son?”

He never calls me by my name. Justson.Like it’s a title. A role. A leash.

There’s a pause. Then he says, measured and dry, “I wanted to touch base about Roger's inheritance.”

And there it is.

Fuck. He knows.

I clear my throat, but I’m at a loss for words. I’m exactly where he wants me.

“It’s a significant estate, as you're aware,” he adds, like we’re talking about someone else's quarterly portfolio.

My stomach twists. I keep my tone neutral.

“I wasn’t aware that was public knowledge,” I say, carefully. Not too sharp or accusingly. But I want to know how he found out, and so quickly. “The estate attorney said everything was being handled privately.”

“It is,” he says, like that should comfort me. “But after hearing of Roger’s passing, I did some research.”

I shake my head, trying not to explode. Of course. I should’ve known he’d dig. I want to ask him how, but I don't care to listen to his bullshit.

"Gotha." Looks like I've walked myself right into my biggest nightmare.

“Clever of him to file it out-of-state,” Leeland continues. “If it hadn’t been for that land, I may never havethought to look there. I helped him with a title issue years back.”

Roger was smart, but it would have taken a miracle for him to keep it hidden from Leeland.

“Turns out,” he says. “My brother left it all to you.”