Chapter 26 #2
Drake subtly reaches for my hand and folds our fingers together.
“It’s about a little of this, a little of that,” I say. “Mostly, it has to do with relationships. People call me for advice.”
“So you’re a modern-day … what did they call that, Barb? That thing in the newspapers?”
“Dear Abby?” she offers.
“Yes. You’re a modern-day Dear Abby,” he says.
I laugh, not sure that comparison is fair for Abby. “I think she was probably a little more proper in her responses than I am. I just … say stuff.”
Drake cuts in. “Don’t let her fool you. She has one of the highest-rated podcasts in the world.”
“What’s your podcast called?” Barb asks. “I’ll have to tune in.”
Please. Don’t. The thought of Drake’s mom listening to me talk about men and sex is enough to make me never want to sit in front of the mic again. “Gianna Knows Things.”
“Evie is a huge fan,” Drake tells his mother. “She’ll be pissed that you got to meet Gianna before she did.”
“Well, Gianna, what do you know?” Edward asks. “Tell us something.”
“Dad …”
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “What do you want to know?”
He thinks for a moment. “Who’s going to win the baseball championship this year? Can ya tell me that?”
Drake smirks, waiting patiently for my answer. He’s probably wondering how I’m going to talk my way out of this one. I feel his gaze on my face but ignore it. Instead, I nod as if I’m really into this conversation with his dad.
“I’ll tell you who it’s not going to be, and that’s the Bobcats,” I say, hoping to hell that’s right.
Drake recoils in shock. “How do you know who the Bobcats are?”
“The Bobcats have two pitchers, and no one can get on base. I doubt they make it to the postseason. My money would be on the Oilers, but they’re going to have to fix that hole in their batting lineup, or they’ll get exposed.”
The words roll off my tongue, but I have no idea if they make sense. It’s a piecemeal of comments I recall hearing, and I’m surprised I remember any of this.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Drake asks, laughing. “How do you know who the Bobcats and Oilers are? What’s happening right now?”
“I’m an athlete, remember? Volleyball?” I smirk. “Or maybe I recall a certain guy going over it on a podcast. Because I listen.”
His jaw hangs open, but I can tell he’s impressed. “Who is the armchair quarterback now?”
I giggle, remembering when I called him that.
“You are something else,” he says, his eyes promising me round two as soon as we get back home. My core tightens at the thought.
“Barb, we got any tea?” Edward asks. “I’ll go get it if we do.”
She stands, ten times more relaxed than when we arrived, and runs her hands down her joggers. “I’ll get it. Drake, there’s a little meat-and-cheese tray in the fridge. Why don’t you come get that and a package of Hawaiian rolls out of the pantry so we can have a little snack?”
At this hour? Granted, it’s not late-late, but it’s later than I’d imagine most people have a snack in that form. No judgment. If they’re snacky, they might be my kind of people, after all.
“That sounds great,” Edward says.
“Gianna,” Barb says. “You don’t have any allergies or anything that I need to be aware of, do you, honey? I can whip up something safe for you if you need it.”
How sweet. “No. I can eat anything but shellfish, but not because I’m allergic. I just don’t like them.”
“Perfect. I don’t like them either.”
“Do you want to come with me, or stay here? Either is fine,” Drake says softly.
A part of me thinks Barb needs a moment alone with her son. After all, that’s why we’re here—so he can offer whatever support they need. That’s important to him, so it’s important to me.
“I’m good,” I say. “I’ll hang with Big Ed.”
Drake snort laughs, rolling his eyes. “Big Ed, huh? Lord, help us.” He follows his mother out of the room.
I sit back against the soft cushions and breathe a sigh of relief.
Everything is going so well. Barb and Big Ed seem to like me well enough, and Big Ed looks relaxed and happy—and not only did he remember Drake, I think Drake is what brought him around.
The way his face lit up when he saw him was incredible.
My heart aches as I watch Big Ed fiddle with the remote control. It’s easy to see what kind of man he once was. Hardworking, honest, capable. A lot like this son.
“That boy of mine …” He nods his head. “He’s a good one. But you probably know that.”
“I had an inkling that was the case.”
“My girls are my pride and joy,” he says. “But that Drake. He’s a one of a kind. Not a boy in the world who made his father more proud.”
A lump lodges in my throat, and a burning sensation bridges my nose. The sincerity in his words wraps around my heart. It’s clear to see why Drake is the way he is. His family is amazing.
“You must be one helluva girl to have him bring you home. He doesn’t do that. I was telling him the other day to pick a woman like his mom and not to settle for anything less—then you show up. That says a lot about you.”
I take a shaky breath. “Well, I hope that’s true. Barb seems like a wonderful person.”
“Wonderful?” He pfft’s me. “God broke the mold when he made that woman. She’s a damn saint. The best mother. Hell of a wife.” He sighs. “She’s my best friend, and as proud as I am that Drake’s my son, I’m even more proud that I’m her husband.”
Big Ed stretches back in his recliner, a sad, haunting look settling over his face. The lump grows as I watch him shift in front of me. His gaze turns to mine.
“Gianna?” He licks his lips. “I’m getting confused a lot lately. Even when I’m not, I don’t really feel like myself. Can I count on you to do me a favor?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
His eyes fill with unshed tears. “When my brain can’t think anymore, or I’m gone for good, will you please remind my wife how much I love her? And that I only spoke well of her when she wasn’t around? The only thing that I’m afraid of is that she’ll forget that.”
Tears slide down the apples of my cheeks.
Damn you, Big Ed.
Damn you.