Free Sleep Don't Come Easy by Victor McGlothin

and shoulder-length locks added to the exotic appeal of the man. He reminded her of one of those men immortalized on the covers of romance novels.
    â€œSorry I’m late,” he said as soon as he sat down. “Traffic.”
    The waitress appeared as if by magic. “Hi. What can I get you?”
    â€œJust coffee,” he said, taking off his coat.
    â€œAnd are you still good?” she asked Fatema, without ever taking her eyes off Nelson.
    â€œI’m fine. Thank you.”
    Fatema wondered if he truly knew how mesmerizing he was to women, but from the indifferent look on his face, she figured that was her answer. Involuntarily, a comparison between Drew and Nelson formed in her mind. OK, so it was lame of her to compare every man to her ex-husband, but until she got a new husband, Drew was all she had to work with in recent years. Drew was that pretty kind of handsome, chiseled, and defined. Nelson, he was grown-man handsome. Rugged? No. Just earthy. Almost as if you could smell a breeze coming from him. She made a conscious effort not to stare.
    â€œI didn’t see you at the funeral,” she said during the conversation that came surprisingly easy to both of them.
    â€œI was there,” he said, quietly. “Saying goodbye was difficult.”
    â€œYeah,” Fatema said reflectively. “Still is.”
    â€œShe used to talk about you all the time. Had some pretty interesting stories.”
    Fatema looked frightened. “What did she say?”
    He laughed. “Don’t worry. Nothing I could sell to the tabloids.”
    For some reason, she found very little comfort in that.
    â€œHow long were the two of you seeing each other? If you don’t mind my asking.”
    â€œNot long enough,” he said sadly. “She started volunteering at the shelter about six months ago, and I fell for her the first day I laid eyes on her.” He smiled. “She wasn’t feeling me like that, though.”
    Boy, please! She wanted to scream. If she knew Toni the way she thought she knew Toni, then she knew without a doubt that she was feeling him too.
    â€œDid you ever meet her family?”
    â€œI met her sister, Tracy. Spitting image of Toni.”
    â€œYeah, well, don’t let her hear you say that. She’s got a major case of the don’t-compare-me-to-my-big-sister syndrome.”
    â€œYeah, but you could tell she was proud of her, though. Looked up to her like she was the big sister.”
    Fatema smiled. “This is true. I think we both did. I’m older than Toni by three months, but she was always the more responsible one, and most of the time, I tried to do whatever she told me because she was usually right.”
    â€œShe usually was.” He sounded melancholy.
    â€œIt was pretty serious between you two, though?” Fatema probed further.
    He nodded. “It was on its way to becoming very serious. I’d never met anyone like her before. Toni and I were on the same page about a lot of things. I’ve been in plenty of relationships where women come into it believing they can handle my commitment to The Broadway, until they get a taste of what that really means.”
    â€œThey couldn’t handle it?”
    â€œThey could as long as it didn’t interfere with the weekends, evenings, holidays.” He laughed. “Those are the peak times at that place, and I have to be there. Toni understood that, and there were many times when I’d look up on Thanksgiving or Friday evenings, Sunday mornings, and see her coming through the door, ready to don an apron and get to work. It meant almost as much to her as it does to me. And she wasn’t fronting. She genuinely cared.”
    Fatema broached the next question carefully. “Did she ever talk to you about a man she called Luke that she may have been seeing at one time?”
    He hesitated before answering. “Yes. She told me about him.”
    â€œDid she stop seeing