Chapter 24
“The doctor guy called for you,” Dad said before I’d even opened the front door all the way and stepped inside. My shoulders slumped, and any lingering euphoria I felt from brunch faded. “I said you’d call him later. He seemed eager to talk. Whatever you did, keep doing it.”
“Daaaaad,” I chastised, stretching out the word in the hopes he’d understand my frustration. “We barely spoke, and I never agreed to call him in the first place.”
“Oh? Because he said your conversation at the bakery was too short for his liking.” Dad glanced up from his recliner, pausing the television like he expected me to go all weak in the knees.
“For his liking? Really? What about my liking?”
No thanks. Let’s leave that drama nonsense to Mina’s first bestseller.
I grimaced and shook my head, laying my purse on the table by the door and putting my keys and the twenty different travel brochures Mina shoved into my hands into the giant scallop shell my middle sister had brought Dad from some exotic island she visited with her husband.
“The conversation lacked, and I couldn’t even remember his first name. I don’t plan on calling him back, Dad. Please drop this.”
He didn’t.
“But I only want what’s best for you, and who’s better than a heart surgeon?”
I sighed, sitting on the couch as he turned to face me, scowling. My fingers pressed against my temple, and I closed my eyes, pushing his expression from my mind.
“How about someone I have a connection with? Someone I’m attracted to? Perhaps someone I share interests with?”
Someone who kept my bed warm last night?
I kept my eyes closed and leaned against the back of the sofa, letting the soft cushion help melt the tension in my shoulders.
“Well, you didn’t pick so well the first time and it’s not like you have a connection with anyone else right now,” he huffed, and I cracked an eye open, watching as he snatched the remote from the side table but didn’t take the TV off mute.
“Thanks for that lovely reminder that I wasted the last decade of my life, Dad. Listen, I’m not going to argue with you, but I would appreciate you leaving this thing with your doctor alone.
I’m so far from interested I might as well be in Antarctica.
Now, I have a couple hours’ worth of work to finish, so I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back to fix your lunch later.”
“Oh, I have lunch taken care of,” a familiar voice called from the kitchen.
“But I would like to know why it sounds so grumpy in there. I thought you were going to explain squash to me, Cam, even though it sounds too much like tennis for my liking.” Bev stepped into the living room, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen and tugging off an oven mitt.
“Hey there, Summer. I made low-sugar cinnamon rolls with honey ham and cheese sliders.”
“More like low-flavor rolls,” Dad said, crossing his arms.
“Enough from the peanut gallery. Have you finished your leg exercises?” she asked, propping a hand on her hip and arching a brow in an eerily similar gesture to someone I’d recently become intimately acquainted with.
“Yeah. They’re done. I’m going to need a damn massage or pain killers now, though.”
“Are you asking me for a rubdown, Cameron Winston? Because I never knew you had such a naughty side. I’m mildly impressed.”
I stared between Dad and Bev with my mouth gaping like a guppy, waiting for some smart remark, sass, or biting retort, but it never came. Instead, he rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like agreement.
“Not a no, then. So, start on your arm exercises or get up and set the table. I refuse to lose another game of chess against you until I’m properly fed.”
“If you listened to my suggestions, you’d at least lose with dignity.”
“Hey,” she said, pointing a finger at Dad, who smirked, raising his hands in defense. “Throwing defenseless pieces is completely acceptable if you beat me after a dozen damn moves.”
“Have I stepped into the Twilight Zone?” I asked, pressing a palm to my forehead and glancing between them. “I thought you two were sworn enemies in the middle of an epic prank war?”
The look they shared while I stared bordered on unhinged, and I tilted my head, watching them fidget like guilty teenagers.
Had I missed something that had been under my nose all these months?
Surely not. This had to be Bev experiencing some misplaced guilt because of his surgery, or from her last prank, which apparently involved peanut butter, honey, and birdseed.
Bev examined her nails, painted to mimic Fabergé eggs, while Dad met my gaze, daring me to continue this derailed train of thought.
“Epic? Goodness no. Simply harmless fun between two consenting adults. But since your dad conceded victory to me before his surgery, the least I could do was keep him fed. It’s the neighborly thing to do, you know?”
“Conceded victory, my left foot.” Dad stood, grumbling under his breath as he brushed past Bev and into the kitchen.
He had his heart pillow firmly clutched in his hands, but I noticed he’d been relying on it less and less these days.
Perhaps the metal wiring holding his breastbone together had finally healed.
I stayed on the couch as he walked into the kitchen, stunned into silence as drawers opened and silverware clinked.
“How was brunch?” Bev asked, coming over and sitting beside me. Her hand went to my kneecap, and she squeezed reassuringly.
“Great, actually. Mina and I really hit it off.”
“I’m so glad you’ve met someone your own age. I was going to invite you to look at yarn with me today at Knit Happens, but something tells me that’s not exactly your taste.”
I laughed, shaking my head and turning to face her. “Just because I’m not into rage knitting doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy getting out of the house.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. And speaking of getting out of the house…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced toward her condo, then back to me before leaning in closer.
“You know, I don’t mean to over share, but right now, my oldest son is fixing a dishwasher that isn’t broken because my kitchen has a splendid view of the street. More importantly, where we park.”
“Really?” I said, not able to help the silly grin that overtook my features.
I could pretend it was from the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen, or that Dad truly had my best interest at heart, even if he went about it the wrong way, but I knew those were lies.
My thoughts had been fixated on the quiet, tattooed man since he left my bed.
“Your oldest son might have been a topic at brunch this morning.”
“But you wouldn’t tell him that, right? No sense giving that man a gigantic head,” Bev quipped, matching my smile.
A retort was on the tip of my tongue, a knee-jerk reaction to say exactly what part of his body was gigantic, but I paused with my mouth open and my brows furrowed. Because no matter how friendly the two of us were, a mother had no desire to have that kind of information about her kid.
“No. No. I don’t suppose that is a good idea.”
“Again, not to push, and not to assume anything has changed between the two of you, but I’m happy. So happy, Summer. Out of all my children, he’s the one I wanted the most for. I hope he’s happy, and I hope you are, too.”
I rested my head on her shoulder for a moment, not wanting to get my hopes up, but still knowing the truth.
“I don’t know if this is even going anywhere or what to do next. But I am, Bev. I’m happy.”