Chapter 39
Riley
“Thought I was here so you didn’t have ta be,” Bobby says with a raised eyebrow as I approach the bar.
Steph’s having a girls’ night tonight, so I’d reached out to my brother and asked if he wanted to get a drink.
Things are still a little awkward between us—tentative—but he agreed to meet me after his shift ended.
I figured I’d check in with Bobby while I wait and decided to head over to Aroma’s early.
The older man is at the bar, drying pint glasses when I perch on the stool in front of him.
He doesn’t often work evenings and has scaled his hours way back in recent months, leaving me with more and more responsibility, but tonight he’d offered to cover when the new bartender I’d hired called in sick so I could have the night off.
“Can’t stay away.”
“Think ya missed me,” he quips, and I laugh, though it’s not far from the truth.
Since hiring me, the man has become somewhat of a mentor and father figure, taking on a role in my life that Jack had filled for my brother.
He took a chance on an ex-con, and I like to think I haven’t let him down.
We’ve built a bond that’s only solidified since I fell apart in his office on Thanksgiving.
“I have missed you,” I respond genuinely. “I’m glad you’ve been enjoying your free time, getting in all that fishing, but it means I don’t get to see your face around here much anymore.”
He drops the rag he was using and makes ridiculous ‘vogue’ gestures with his hands around his face—the ones from the Madonna video I’m shocked he’s even aware of. “This ugly mug?”
“That’s the one,” I deadpan. “I still wanna see it every once in a while.”
He picks up the rag and reaches for the next glass, his throat working. “You got it, kid.”
“Maybe I could go fishing with you sometime …”
He pauses. “Didn’t think you were into that.”
It’s not about the fishing, and we both know it, but Bobby’s not one for sentimentality.
I shrug. “I could be. Been out with my mom a few times since I’ve been back.”
He grunts, then nods, and I take it for agreement, but what he says is, “You want a drink, you’re gonna have to come around here ‘n get it yourself,” effectively changing the subject.
I roll my eyes. “I’m meeting Aidan in a little bit, so I think I’ll wait on him.”
That gets me another raised eyebrow. “How’s that goin’?”
“It’s baby steps, but I’ll take it.”
Another nod.
“And your girl? Things goin’ better with her these days?”
I can’t help the grin that creeps over my face. “Yeah, real good. I’ve been spending time with the boys lately, too.”
He puts the last pint glass away, then moves to get me some water with lemon, knowing I’ll sip on it while I wait for Aidan.
I smile my thanks as he slides it across the bar.
He makes a noise of acknowledgement, then leans forward, propping his elbows on the wood with an expression that says ‘I’m all ears. ’
So, I indulge him.
I tell him about that first night I cooked dinner for them, and how we’d played football and then later, video games. I tell him how I’ve been back several nights a week since then and on weekends, too, casually trying to slip myself into their routine and their lives as if I’d always been there.
Like I should have always been.
It actually hasn’t been as easy as all that; it’s a balancing act, for sure, as we each try to figure out boundaries and our new roles as they relate to one another. But Matt and Alex have been trying, for their mother’s sake, and she’s been trying for me.
Lola comes out from the back, then, returning from her break, and sidles over to join us, leaning next to Bobby on the bar top.
“There’s a new game coming out for PS5 on the twelfth I think the boys would probably like,” she says.
“Oh yeah?” I brighten. “Send me the details, please.”
Her eyes snag on a customer approaching the bar to our left, and she nods, calling, “Will do,” over her shoulder as she moves in their direction.
“I’m not above a little bribery,” I explain to Bobby as he watches her retreating figure with an amused half smile. “Lola taught me the gaming basics, and it was a big help that first time I played with them.”
“Sounds like you’re makin’ good progress,” he observes, and I nod. “But I assume that means the boys still don’t know …” he trails off, not wanting to mention Matt’s paternity out loud.
I shake my head. “No. Steph’s not ready to tell them, and I’m doing my best to respect her wishes.
She obviously knows what’s best for them, so I’ve agreed to follow her timeline.
For now, I’m just happy to be spending so much time with all three of them, and I hope the foundation we’re laying now will make it easier when the time does come to reveal the truth. ”
There’s more grunting from Bobby, and if I’m not mistaken, it leans towards skepticism. I choose not to acknowledge it, instead sharing another positive interaction I’d had with my son recently.
“I didn’t tell Steph this, but when I was over a few weekends ago doing some work in the yard, Matt came out and helped me dig up the grass along the fence to make some garden beds.
We mostly worked in silence, but at the end, we sat on the deck for a while, admiring a job well done, and …
” I pause, my heart warming all over again at the memory.
“He thanked me for making his mom smile again. Said he and Alex had both noticed how much lighter she’d seemed the last few months, how much more often she laughed. ”
Bobby grunts in what I know to be a sound of approval.
“I thought I was going to have a long uphill battle to win their favor,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief, “but it turns out they’re a lot more observant and gracious than I would have expected from teenage boys.”
“Sounds like,” Bobby agrees.
I huff out a laugh. “Not only that,” I start, glancing around to make sure no one else is nearby—Steph would kill me if this story got out—“but they knew I’d been sneaking into her room through the window at night.”
Bobby’s eyes widen, and he snorts.
“Steph nearly died of embarrassment when Matt called us out on it,” I add with a chuckle. “But the thing is … they weren’t even angry. Sure, there was an uncomfortable conversation the next morning, but mostly they were amused.”
“They want their mother to be happy,” Bobby observes.
I nod.
“They’re good kids.”
“Yeah, they are.”
And blood or no, they’re mine.