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“Lasagna, ravioli, a salad, and some bread that I just took out of the oven. The food was still pretty hot.”
My stomach growled and we both laughed.
“What can I do to help?” I asked.
“Nothing at all. You just take it easy.”
Smiling, I fiddled with the napkin he slid over to me.
“Wine?”
Sighing, I replied, “Wine sounds perfect.”
Wes placed a plate full of food in front of me followed by the glass of red wine. He pulled a stool around so he could sit across from me.
“It looks and smells so good.”
Wes took a bite and moaned. “It’s so good.”
He wasn’t lying. The food was amazing. Wes started to ask questions about my parents, and I soon found myself sharing stories of the places we would go on vacations. He sat there and listened with a smile on his face while I took a walk down memory lane. I talked about the one Christmas my father put my Barbie mansion together. How he had taught me to ride a bike on a camping trip. Wes then asked what they did for a living.
“My father is a lawyer, retired from the Marines in his early forties, and went to work for a firm in Boston.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. Is that why Tim went in?”
I shrugged. “Probably. My mother is a therapist. A sex therapist.”
Wes choked on his food. “What?”
Laughing, I nodded. “Yeah.”
“It sounds like you and Tim had a great childhood,” Wes said with a smile.
Nodding, I said, “We did. They made sure we had a fun time growing up. My father was raised by two very strict parents, and my mother never knew her father. He left before she was born.”
“Damn, that’s a dick move.”
I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, it was. My mother and father wanted Tim and me to have the childhood they never had, and in some ways, I feel like they spoiled us.”
Closing my eyes, I slowly exhaled, then looked back at Wes. “I was so scared, Wes. I thought for sure I was going to lose them.”
He reached across the table and took my hand in his. “You didn’t lose them, so don’t even think that way.”
I quickly wiped a tear away. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I don’t think I could be home alone.”
Squeezing my hand, our eyes met. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“You are?”
Wes nodded. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
The bubble of happiness quickly deflated, and I forced myself not to show even an ounce of disappointment.
He filled my wine glass up again. “Why don’t you head on over to the sofa and enjoy your wine. Put whatever you want on the TV, and I’ll clean up.”
“I can help you clean up.”
Wes held up his hand. “You’re the guest, you relax and let me take care of you for once.”
