“Off duty today, bud.”
Actually, off-duty cops were allowed to carry, and Luc often did, but not today. Not for this.
A woman came out of the kitchen drying her hands on a blue and white towel. Luc looked up and met her familiar brown gaze.
“Hey, Bev.”
“Luca.”
To his surprise, she was in front of him in five steps, wrapping him in a warm hug he surely didn’t deserve.
When she stepped back, there were tears in her eyes, but she was still smiling. “I’m glad you’ve come.”
She was?
The way Luc figured, she’d only agreed to this meeting out of pity, but it wasn’t pity he saw in her welcoming gaze.
“Mom, can I go play Mario?”
“Honey, you haven’t seen Uncle Luc in two years. Don’t you want to talk to him?”
Luc and Joey exchanged a man-to-man gaze. Eight-year-old boys didn’t want to talk when there was a decent shot at playing video games on the table.
“Nah, let him go, Bev. I’ll swing by another time; maybe we can throw a ball or something.”
The boy’s face scrunched, and Luc backtracked. “Or I can kick your butt at Mario.”
“Get real,” the kid said, good humor restored. “I know all the shortcuts.”
Joey started to bound away with a cheeky grin, but drew up short when his mother cleared her throat.
“Nice to see you again, Uncle Luc,” the boy said dutifully.
The boy’s eyes crinkled a little like his dad’s when he smiled, and Luc’s chest tightened again.
“See ya, bud.”
Both he and Beverly watched as Joey headed to video game heaven, and Luc gave a rueful shake of his head. “I shouldn’t have stayed away.”
Bev’s hand touched his arm briefly. “I know why you did. No judgment here. Come on in; I’ve got coffee and I’ve got beer.”
“Coffee’s great,” he said, following Beverly into the small but cheerful kitchen. She’d redecorated since Luc had last been here after Mike’s memorial.
The former blue walls had been repainted a bright yellow, and she seemed to have some sort of citrus theme going on, with lemon and lime decorations all over the place.
He was glad it was different. Though it was still too easy to remember what it had been like before.
Luc sat at a tiny white table as she pulled a mug out of the cupboard, also with lemons on it.
He studied her, looking for signs of a broken woman, but there were none. She was simply the curvy, warm woman he remembered.
A little sadder maybe. How could she not be?
But this was not a woman who’d let herself be destroyed by the loss of a spouse.
She was a survivor.
Just as Mike would have wanted.
“You’re looking good, Bev.”
She laughed as she handed him the coffee, black, the way he liked it. “Good of you to say. Mid-forties aren’t agreeing with me. The hair is easy enough to fix, thank you, Clairol. The lower metabolism…” She patted a rounded hip. “Not so much.”
She smiled, poured herself coffee, and sat across from him, studying his face.
“You’re looking happy, Luc.”
The word surprised him.
Happy? Was he?
If he was, he didn’t deserve to be.
Bev smiled into her coffee. “I know that look.”
Luc groaned. How was it that all females thought he had a look lately. “Do I even want to hear this?”
“Probably not, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell you that you have the mark of a woman all over you?”
He glanced down at his light gray polo and jeans.
“No, not like that,” Bev said, waving her hand. “It’s on your face. Someone’s got you feeling happy and you don’t know how to react.”
An image of Ava with crooked glasses, messy hair, and a sassy smile flitted through his mind. He pushed the thought away.
Luc wasn’t going to go there. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Instead, he reached across the table for Beverly’s hand. “What about you, Bev? Are you the woman making some guy happy?”