The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time by Julianne MacLean Page A

into a ponytail.
    “Why do you think I’d be stressed?” I asked innocently.
    She faced me again and raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean.”
    Sadly, I did. She was referring to my turbulent love life, currently revolving around the man I’d been dating for the past five months.
    Although “dating” was an understated word for whatever we were. Our relationship had begun with an intensity that knocked the breath out of both of us. We’d met here in the pub when he came in with a couple of friends to enjoy a few beers on a Friday afternoon. I’d waited on them at the booth in the back corner and sparks had flown instantly while we flirted.
    Derek was handsome and fit and he made a good living as a contractor, running his own business here in Portland. The only downside was that he was married. Separated, actually, but not yet divorced. He’d only been separated for a few months when we first met, though I’d been divorced from Ethan for a number of years.
    Derek had just moved into a tidy, modern one-bedroom apartment in one of the newer developments, while his wife, Addison, continued to live in their family home in the suburbs with their two children, aged twelve and fourteen.
    Derek still went over there all the time to visit. It seemed like there was always something he had to take care of—a plumbing issue in the kitchen or some rotting boards on the deck.
    It was also an excuse for him to spend time with his children, so I couldn’t fault him for that because I admired men who were good fathers. It’s part of why I found him so attractive. But it never sat well with me when I knew he was visiting there for hours on end and I didn’t know what was happening with his wife—an attractive, successful C.P.A. with long, shiny, jet-black hair. Addison wore skirts and heels to work and carried a briefcase.
    I think her level of education, and the fact that she was a professional, intimidated me a little, because I’d never gone to college. I’d always planned to—and maybe I still would—but Ethan and I had married young. I had been nineteen, barely out of high school when we defied his parents, snuck off to city hall one afternoon and tied the knot.
    The only way we’d been able to manage those first few years was for me to work full-time and support us while he finished his degree. Because his father cut us off.
    The reason I was in possession of the mansion now was because—not long after his parents’ private jet went down over the Atlantic—we found out that his mother had penned a private will of her own. This house was always deeded in her name and she had left it to Ethan, against his father’s wishes.
    Ethan then gave it to me in the divorce settlement, in exchange for me supporting us for all those years, I suppose.
    But that was a lifetime ago, and I was trying not to dwell on the past. So, back to Derek…
    I hadn’t actually met Derek’s wife. I had only seen pictures of her on Derek’s Facebook page, but I knew she was aware of my existence and my relationship with her husband.
    Scratch that.
    She was aware of my relationship with her soon-to-be ex- husband.
    Derek had told me she was uptight about him introducing new girlfriends to their children, however. She didn’t want to confuse or upset them with a revolving door of new “lady friends” every week. I wasn’t even supposed to post anything on his Facebook page because the kids were online constantly with their mobile phones.
    Lately I’d been pushing Derek to talk to Addison, to try and convince her to lighten up with the rules and allow me to meet his children, but Derek was firm on the issue and insisted that they weren’t ready for that.
    So that’s what Cassie had meant by the “stress dream” comment. She knew I was frustrated.
    “Maybe the dream about Ethan dying meant something else entirely,” I said. “Maybe it means I’m finally letting go of that part of my life.”
    “I should hope so,” she replied.