Chapter 6
Desmond
The artificial voice of the map app tells me we arrive, so I click it off and pull slowly into the driveway.
“Holy crap!” Parker exclaims, face practically pressed against the window as he watches the scenery. “We’re like…in the wilderness.”
I laugh. We’re not, but I can admit that the unpaved, tree-lined drive certainly makes it feel that way. Pulling up to Nico’s garage, I put the car in park and turn around before Parker can go tearing out the door.
“Parks.” He looks at me. “Remember what we talked about, okay? Be careful with their things, and don’t make a mess. Chew with your mouth closed, and?—”
“—say please and thank you,” he cuts in, mimicking me in a mocking voice.
“Parker,” I say sternly. He sighs, and rolls his eyes.
“I know! I know. ”
“Remember what I said about my boss?” I press, nervous now that we’re here. “About his eyes?”
“Yes, I remember. I’ll be good, I promise.”
Deciding that he seems earnest enough, and knowing it’s too late at this point anyway, I open my door.
Parker follows, looking around eagerly at the house and the front yard.
He seems nearly as excited to be here as he was to play Minecraft with Jack.
Excited enough that, for a moment, he’s able to forget about his parents and me and everything that’s hard right now.
I put a hand on the back of his neck and tug him into my side, not giving him a full hug but enough of one that I hope the message is received.
He doesn’t push me away, but remains at my side as I ring the doorbell.
Although Nico warned me they had a dog, there’s no answering barks.
Nico opens the door, dressed casually the way he told me to come with Parker.
He’s not wearing shoes, and the sight of his socked feet reminds me there’s one thing I forgot to cover with Parker.
I keep my hand on the back of his neck, holding on to him in case he gets it in his head to go tearing through the house in search of the dog.
“Come on in, Desmond,” Nico says, stepping back and holding the door wide. “You must be Parker? I’ve heard quite a bit about you from your uncle.”
Parker moves a little closer to me as we walk in and Nico shuts the door behind us, skin warm where his arm is pressed against mine. I’m grateful Nico added that last bit about knowing he’s not my son, eager to not repeat the way Parker told Jack about his dead parents.
“Hi,” Parker replies quietly, apparently feeling shy. Nico doesn’t seem bothered, and hovers patiently next to us.
“Take your shoes off, little man,” I tell him. “Thanks again for having us, Macca. It’s beautiful back here.” Parker toes his shoes off, and I grab them before he launches them into the wall the way he always seems to do at home. I point at Nico. “This is Nico, my boss.”
“Hi,” he repeats. “Where’s your dog?”
I close my eyes, wondering if parenting is really just a long string of moments defined by being embarrassed by your children.
Nico chuckles, and gestures for us to follow him.
Parker looks at me before following; keeping his head on a swivel as he tries to look at everything all at once.
I do the same thing, but in a less obvious way.
When he’d invited us over for dinner, Nico had warned me that his house was spartan because it provided less obstacles and things for him to trip over.
I’d wondered why he’d felt the need to issue a warning about it, but now I can sort of see where he’s coming from.
The furniture is placed rather oddly, and the lack of any rugs gives the rooms a cavernous feel.
Even with the art on the walls, it gives strong model home vibes.
Parker, who neither knows nor cares about interior decorating, pivots his head around in search of the elusive dog.
“Parker, Desmond, this is Anthony. My partner,” Nico says, leading us into the kitchen where Anthony Lawson is prepping something on a baking sheet. He beams at us and reaches out to shake my hand.
“Nice to finally meet you,” he says, before immediately turning to Parker and wrapping him in what looks like a tight, one-armed hug.
Parker looks surprised, but doesn’t pull away and even goes so far as to put his own arm around Anthony.
I try not to feel too hurt by that. The last time I’d tried to give him a hug, he’d acted as though I was a carrier of the plague .
“Hi,” Parker says, temporarily distracted from his quest to find the dog by the friendliness of this large stranger. “Desmond is my uncle.”
Anthony nods, and gives him a little squeeze before dropping his arm and stepping back.
“Good to know. I’m an uncle to seven nieces and nephews,” he says conspiratorially. “So I know how great uncles are.”
I smile at that, happy with any and all good words that are put in with Parker for me.
We’ve been doing remarkably well together, and the therapist has provided several gentle warnings about the timeline of Parker’s grief.
I don’t want to rush him, and I definitely don’t want him to think I’m trying to replace his parents.
His dad. But I also can’t help the fact that I desperately crave what he’s so casually giving a stranger.
“Yeah,” Parker agrees with Anthony before once more remembering the real reason he’s here. “You guys have a puppy, right?”
Nico chuckles softly. “Yes. Drou. I’ll go get him out,” he tells Parker.
Minutes after he leaves the kitchen, there’s the frantic click of nails on the hardwood and a whine.
Anthony glances over at the doorway, smiling.
Nico walks back in with a red puppy on a leash, and Parker’s face breaks into the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks.
The dog, lanky and thin as though midway through a growth spurt, wiggles his entire body like his tail is a joystick.
“Oh wow,” Parker says on an exhale, and takes a step forward. He looks up at me and I raise my eyebrows at him. He adds, “Can I pet him? Please?”
“Of course,” Nico says, and can barely get the words out before Parker is hitting his knees and reaching for the dog. I catch Nico’s eye .
“Is it really okay if he…?” I trail off, unsure of what the hard rules are concerning the dog. Nico had told me they’re planning on having the puppy trained. Knowing about his eyesight, I’m wondering if “being trained” means he’s a service dog. Aren’t people supposed to not pet those dogs?
“Oh, he’s fine,” Nico says, bending down to hand the leash off to Parker before stepping away. “Drou’s not quite old enough for training yet, and I won’t need him as a full seeing-eye dog anyway. More just…very well behaved.”
I nod. He seems pretty calm for a puppy to me, and apparently doesn’t mind the way Parker is running his hands all over him and squishing his face.
As I watch, he vigorously licks Parker’s arms, making him laugh.
The leash is already forgotten, sitting discarded on the floor.
Thinking that there’s probably a good reason for the puppy not to be running amok in the house, I bend down and grab it.
“Let me see your arm, Parks.” Obediently, he holds it out and I loop the leash over his wrist, keeping my voice low as I talk to him. “Keep hold of that okay, bud? I don’t think the puppy is supposed to run around in here.”
He nods, probably realizing that if he doesn’t follow the rules, the puppy privileges will be revoked.
“Okay,” he agrees. “I will.”
“So,” Anthony Lawson cuts in, spreading his arms wide to encompass the counter like a game-show host. “We’ve got chicken and steak to grill, tons of veggies because those are Parker’s favorite.”
Parker laughs, and an intense feeling of gratefulness surges through me. Nico had told me Anthony loves kids, and clearly that’s true. We’ve been here less than fifteen minutes, and he’s already ranking higher than me on the list of Parker’s favorite people .
“But we also have some potato salad, a…bean-looking thing. Not really sure what that one is, actually,” he continues, squinting at a large, oval Tupperware that does appear to be full of beans. “Homemade salsa and guacamole, mild, because Nico is allergic to flavor.”
“Says the man born in the Midwest,” Nico mumbles, approaching the counter.
“With ice cream and pie for dessert,” Anthony finishes, dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiles at me. “Two types of pie, and apparently one of them is chocolate.”
“Chocolate pie ?” Parker chimes in, now seated cross-legged on the floor with Drou fully in his lap, tongue hanging happily out of his mouth at the undivided attention.
“That’s what the chef told me,” Anthony confirms. He looks at me. “I told Corwin we had a younger dinner guest, and he thought chocolate might go over better than cherry.”
“He was probably right,” I agree. “Thank you, this is…this is a lot. You could have just ordered a pizza.”
“No, no, it’s fine. We never have new people over, so we had to pull out all the stops. And by ‘we,’ I obviously mean Cor, because I didn’t make a single bit of this.”
Nico snorts. “Do you want to eat outside? If you wanted, Parker, you could throw the ball for Drou or run around with him. He loves to play, and you can take him off the leash outside.”
“Really? Yes!” Parker agrees vehemently, gently extracting himself from the dog and scrambling to his feet. The leash slides up and down his skinny forearm. Drou yips and wags his tail so hard he tilts to the side, picking up on the excitement. “I love it here, this is so great.”
After grabbing our shoes, Nico walks to the back door and the puppy follows, tugging Parker along by the leash.
He’s a beautiful dog, with a deep, shiny red coat and light eyes.
His coloring is remarkably similar to Jack’s—hair a rare, stunning crimson, and eyes a lovely tawny color.
As cute as the puppy is, though, I do think Jack pulls off the look better.