I Joined My Dead Sister's Curling Team, and Her Widower Joined Me novel · Chapter 15 of 24

Chapter 15: Is This a Wednesday

Dale soaped my shoulders with his scarred left hand, and told me to stop holding myself up.

"I'm not," I said.

"You are," he said.

"You've been standing rigid since your mother came through that door. Lean on me."

I leaned.

My back met his chest, and the hot water poured over both of us from the rain head he had bolted into the ceiling himself.

His shower was gray slate and black steel, and every fixture sat square to every other.

It smelled of cedar soap.

I had driven to his house straight from the club on Friday night and rung the bell with my coat still buttoned.

He had looked at my face and said, "Come."

He had not asked what happened, and he had not asked why I wasn't at Gunnar's.

He had taken my coat and led me upstairs, and he had undressed me one button at a time.

Now he soaped the slope of my neck and down my spine with a slow, flat hand.

"You told Gunnar it was every day," Dale said, near my ear.

"On Monday. In his hall."

"I did," I said.

"Gunnar tells us everything now."

"I know," I said.

"Is this a Wednesday?"

His hand stopped on my hip.

I laughed, and my head dropped back onto his shoulder.

"No, sir," I said.

"It's a Friday. It's yours."

"Good," Dale said.

His other hand slid around my waist and spread across my belly, wide and warm and slick with soap.

He did not move it.

"I worked it out in the truck on Monday," he said.

"There's nothing to work out."

His thumb moved once over my skin.

"It could be mine or Nils's or any of ours, and the only way to know is to ask a laboratory," he said.

"I don't want to know."

"I want it to be ours, and I want to be the one who stands in the door."

"Dale," I said.

"That's all," he said.

"That's all I wanted to say."

I turned in his arms.

Water ran down his gray crew cut and his pale eyes and the old burn scar on his hand.

I put my mouth on his, and he kissed me back slowly and then not slowly, with a week of waiting in it.

He backed me against the slate.

It was cool on my shoulder blades, and the water was hot on my breasts, and his thigh pushed between my legs.

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