Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Come in,” he said in a grumpy voice. When I pushed open the door, I noticed how he hid his phone.
“The reason I’ve been so strict with you is because I’m sort of winging it here, and I don’t always make the right decisions,” I said, leaning against the doorjamb. “I’ve been overprotective because I’ve always been terrified of losing you too.”
“What? You’re not going to—”
“It kills me to think you wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing certain things with me. I know you had your mom for that, and you probably wish… I’m sorry she’s no longer here.” Goddamn it, I was getting too emotional. I cleared my throat. “I just want you to know that I’ll always support you and root for you. You’re amazingly cool just the way you are.”
His face flushed red as he gaped at me. “Dad, I…uh…”
“You’re gonna be an adult soon enough, and you’ll be facing all kinds of stuff for the first time. So maybe I need to stop treating you like you’re still in middle school.” I motioned with my hand. “Like with the no-upstairs rule when I’m not home. And maybe you can even have a sleepover, stuff you haven’t gotten to experience yet.”
“Really?” He arched an eyebrow. “Where is this coming from? Did you—”
“I’m just trying to be a more understanding parent than my dad ever was to me.” Having said my fill, I stepped back to close the door. “Good night.”
“Wait,” he called out, and I froze to listen.
“I just…um…thank you.” His eyes softened when they met mine. “Night.”
24
Marcus
December
It was the following Saturday, and I was laying down a drop cloth in the kitchen. All that was left were touch-ups on the paint and replacing hardware. They’d selected brushed silver door handles that would complement the other updates well. It’d been a long week, and I’d looked forward to hanging out with Delaney, even if it was under the auspices of more work.
Obviously, today was different, and my stomach had buzzed with anticipation the whole way over. As soon as Delaney had opened the door, in his worn jeans, hair damp from his shower, his smile vibrant, the butterflies in my stomach whirled up a storm. I wanted to pull him into a tight hug just to take in his scent and warmth. But I restrained myself, and it seemed he was too because he’d lifted a trembling hand to touch me before pretending to knock some lint off my shoulder.
Grant had greeted me warmly and told me how excited he was about the trip to New York, which Delaney and I thought might work better closer to spring. Then he’d gone up to his room to prepare for his plans with his grandparents, which involved a visit to the park, followed by a sleepover. Apparently, it’d been a yearly tradition for Donna to snap some photos of Grant for their holiday card, and they were finally resuming the practice after a hiatus the past couple of years.
We got straight to work, so when Donna’s voice rang out from the front door, it startled me. Delaney strode over to greet her, calling up to Grant as he went. “Your grandmother’s here.”
“Hi there,” Donna said as she came through the kitchen. “Wow, this looks awesome.”
“I think so too,” I said, trying to rid myself of the leftover awkwardness from her Halloween visit, which was likely all on my part. Okay, on Delaney’s part too. “The cabinet and wall colors they chose are great, and Grant suggested I stain this island a dark shade.”
“It’s perfect,” she replied, likely a little too enthusiastically because she began coughing, then turned away when the spell went on too long.
“Delaney said you and Howard are both feeling better, but I know how hard it is to shake those symptoms,” I said as Delaney moved to the sink to pour her some water.
“It’s just a leftover cough,” she said, accepting the glass and taking a long sip. “Ah, much better.”
“Glad to hear it.” I retrieved the screwdriver from my toolbox as Delaney went to the stairs again to check on Grant.
“Thanks for inviting them, by the way,” she said when Delaney was out of earshot. “For Thanksgiving.”
I dipped my head. “My family was happy to have them.”
There was something raw and painful in her expression that I’d recognized in Keisha’s, too, whenever I brought up Delaney. I wished I could say something to assuage the ache, but I didn’t have the right words. Maybe none of us did for this sort of situation. When life moved on without them, there was nothing any of us could do to stop time.
Grant came down dressed in a black suit, bow tie, and stovepipe hat that resembled Lincoln’s ensemble. “Wow, you look amazing.”
“Right? This year’s photos will be great,” Delaney said, which made Grant’s expression brighten. “Especially since the weather has held.”