“It was good seeing you. Come see me more often. Say hello. I practically raised you, and you took off and forgot all about me.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’ll keep in touch.”
“You do that.” He kisses my cheek and opens the gate. Before I’m all the way out, he speaks again. “Neely?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep in touch with that boy of mine too. I know he can be a pain in the ass, but you’re good for him. And I think he’s good for you too.”
I don’t confirm or deny, partially because I’m unsure. Instead, I give him a smile and head to the truck.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DANE
Bowl or plate?” I ask.
“Do we have garlic bread?” Mia asks, surveying the kitchen.
“Do I ever make spaghetti without garlic bread?”
She eyes me. “When you forget to buy it. But I’m not judging you because I can’t feed myself.”
“Yes, smarty-pants. We have garlic bread. So, bowl or plate?”
“Bowl. I like to dip the bread in the sauce, and the bowl lets me dip better.”
“So scientific,” I mutter. Putting on the oven mitts, I retrieve the bread from the oven and pop it on top of the stove. The air is filled with a garlicky scent that’s one of my favorite kitchen smells. Much better than that damn lavender soap.
While I serve up two bowls of spaghetti, Mia fills two glasses with ice water. Just as I’m carrying the food to the table, the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it,” Mia calls, hustling toward the door.
“Look out the window and see who it is before you . . .” I don’t get to finish the sentence before I hear Haley’s voice. In a few moments she and Mia come around the corner. “We were just going to eat. Want some?”
“What are we having?” she asks, looking at the table and wrinkling her nose. “Did you use jarred sauce again?”
“I’m out of your frozen fancy homemade stuff.”
“So that’s a yes to the jarred?”
I take my seat across from Mia and give my cousin a look. “Take it or leave it. I don’t care either way. But now you can make your own plate.”
“Fine, fine.” She serves herself while Mia gets her a drink, and a few seconds later, we’re finally in our seats. “Who is saying grace?”
Mia smiles. “Me.” She rattles off a simple prayer she’s used since she could pray. “Amen.”
“Amen,” we say.
The breakfast nook fills with the sound of silverware clattering against ceramic. We eat in peace for a while before I catch Haley looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
“What?” I ask, dipping my bread in the sauce.
“If you said to someone you needed a break, what would that mean?”
I look at my daughter. She’s busy making sure her spaghetti and garlic bread don’t touch. “You’re just going to dip it anyway. Why are you wasting your time?”
“Because it’ll be soggy if it sits there.” She looks at me like I’m stupid. “If I dip it, the bread is still nice and crunchy.”
A glimpse of the upcoming teenage years brushes through my mind, and I have a hard time not just taking her to her room and locking the door now. Before I can get too far with that line of thought, Haley speaks.
“So?” she asks. “What would it mean?”
“It would mean I didn’t want to see them for a while,” I say.
“Why?”
“That would depend.” I take a sip of water. “I’m guessing someone said that to you?”
“John, and I liked him.” She moans. “I thought he was The One—”
“No offense,” Mia interrupts. “But you thought Harry was The One too. And before him it was Noah.”
I tip my fork toward Mia. “And who was the hippie? What was his name?”
“Joel,” Mia says through a mouthful of spaghetti.
Haley winces. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Mia. And don’t remember everything either. You’re like an elephant.”
Mia giggles, stabbing her fork in the middle of the pile of spaghetti in her bowl. “Can I be excused? Remembering Joel the Hippie made me lose my appetite.”
“What are you talking about? You liked him.” Haley laughs.
Mia holds her hand so I can’t see her lips. “I know,” she whispers loud enough for me to hear. “But I really want to go watch TV.” She drops her hand and looks at me. “Please, Dad?”
I survey her bowl. “You can be excused, but get a shower before you do anything else. You smell like cereal from the fish.”
“Got it,” she says, scooting her chair back. “Thanks, Dad. Bye, Haley.”
“Bye, rascal. See you at church in the morning.”
Mia’s footsteps ascend the stairs as I take another bite of dinner. Haley pushes her food around her plate.
I shouldn’t ask her what’s wrong—it’ll devolve into a therapy session, and I really don’t want to figure out her problems. I have my hands full with mine. It’s strange how having a smile on your face as you cook dinner can be construed as a problem, but that’s reality for you.
I’ve worked my ass off to create a safe, happy life for Mia. She eats all the colors of a rainbow on most days. I took the bumper out of her crib when she was a baby because I read an article that said kids can get their faces into the padding and suffocate. She’s had swim lessons, and I don’t bring people in her life who aren’t good for her. Except Penn, of course, but he’s a good guy at heart.
The only thing I can’t get around is my Achilles’ heel. The chink in my armor. The one thing that screws me all up every time: Neely.
The day I accompanied Matt to her house to apologize was the start of a connection that’s never waned. Sure, it wasn’t romantic when it started—we were kids. And now we haven’t seen each other for years. But the same feeling, a sense of balance, came rushing back as soon as I saw her.
I’ve always been a little rough around the edges. Reserved in a lot of ways. I always wonder what people want out of me, but I’ve never had that thought with Neely. When she’s around, I feel like me. Like it’s okay to be me. That she understands it and, whether she likes it or not, accepts it. No one else has ever made me feel that way. Not even my parents.
Quite frankly, I love Neely. I always have. I probably always will, and that really sucks.
Dropping my fork, I start to get up when Haley sighs.
“Why do I always get my heart broken?” she asks.
My butt hits the chair again. I take in her forlorn face, the slight frown on her lips, and the way her forehead wrinkles. “This isn’t a broken heart, Hay. It’s just disappointment. You’ll survive.”
“How can you tell me if my heart is broken or not? Asshole.”
“You came to this asshole for advice. Just pointing that out.”
She puts her head in her hands. “You’re all I got, okay? If there was another option, trust me, I’d go to them.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I lift my fork and take another bite. The sauce is just fine, despite the way Haley licks at it before taking the smallest bites known to man. Reaching for my glass, I notice the way tears are welling up in the corners of her eyes.
Why do I have to care?
“Fine,” I say, putting my glass back on the table. “Coming from someone who has seen you with a broken heart, this is not one. Okay?”
“Who do you think broke mine?”
“The hippie. You really liked him, I think. I don’t know why you did, but you did.” I shrug. “Watching you tonight, I’d venture to say you’ll have moved on in a week. Back happily in love with some other unsuspecting soul.”
She loads her fork with spaghetti and pretends to launch it across the table. “I should shoot this at your face for being a jerk.”
“How am I a jerk?” I laugh. “I just call it like I see it, and you are ‘in love’ with someone new every two months. I don’t even try to learn their names anymore. It’s pointless.”
She sits back in her seat and sighs. “Enough about me. What did you do today? You’re more chipper than usual.”
“I did have an eventful evening.” That damn smile that I wore on the ride home, while Mia and I pulled weeds out front, and then while I made dinner comes back. Haley doesn’t miss a beat.
She leans forward, resting her chin on her hands. “I’m waiting.”
There’s no doubt this is going to backfire. If I tell Miss Romantic here that I spent time with Neely, she’ll be planning our wedding before the spaghetti gets cold. I should make up some story and play it off, but for some reason I don’t understand, I want to tell her. I want to tell someone.
I brace myself for her reaction. “Neely went with Mia and me to Dad’s.”
Haley gasps. Her hands hit the table so hard the plates rattle. “You’re joking. Dane! This is amazing.”
“This is not amazing.” I scoff despite the grin plastered on my lips. “But it was nice, and Mia enjoyed it, I think.”
“And you,” she says, poking a finger my way. “You enjoyed it. I know you did, so don’t even try to lie to me.”
“Very funny.”
She wads up the napkin from her lap and places it next to her plate. “You know, ever since I found that picture of the two of you in your closet, I had a feeling this would come full circle.”
“Slow down,” I warn. “First of all, that picture was of me, her, Matt, and Claire. Second of all—”
“Her head was on your shoulder.”
“And Claire’s hand was on my ass. You just couldn’t see it,” I lie. “Second of all, she’s just visiting her mom. She’ll be back in New York by the end of the week.”