CHAPTER 14
DISINFECTANT WIPE
LILA
The clattering of dishes and the piercing scrape of a fork against a plate frays my already fragile nerves. My leg bounces so vigorously under the table that my teeth rattle. Condensation drips down the side of the untouched glass of ice water in front of me.
The door to the restaurant swings open as a lightning bolt of dread zings down my spine.
My muscles release a tenth of their tension as a haggard-looking mother comes through the door. Her son pulls her through the crowded room as she balances a sleeping little girl on her hip.
The trio disappears into the crowd to join the equally haggard father as I reread Kam’s texts.
Kam
Posey just put Dax in his place. I wish you could have seen her.
Ellie and Posey are officially best friends.
*photo of Posey and Ellie coloring*
I might have promised Jasper I’d take him to a Flyers game soon.
*photo of Jasper watching the Flyers game on the couch with the guys*
I scroll through the photos he’s sent me in the twenty minutes since I dropped Jasper and Posey off at his townhouse. My heart warms with every swipe as I take in the twins’ smiles.
I’m doing this for them.
If the judge thinks they’re my best shot at a support system, then that’s exactly what I’m going to pursue.
The mental timeline for this visit I spent many sleepless nights working through flows like a slideshow through my mind.
A respectful introduction. Maybe even a handshake.
I offer them a seat at the table I purposefully requested in the quietest part of the restaurant.
We bond over our loss.
They ask how I’ve been holding up after losing the most crucial people in my life.
The slideshow goes on and on until I get dizzy.
The door to the restaurant opening stings of betrayal as I open the door to a relationship my mom and dad fought so hard to protect us from.
My heart beats a crescendo with every step they take toward me. His dark, tailored suit and her black dress are more fitting for the funeral they didn’t bother attending for my parents than a steakhouse on a Sunday afternoon.
Eyes so similar in color to my mom’s but so different in sincerity appraise me. Her perfect, white curls don’t move an inch as she tilts her head to the side in silent inspection.
Her calculating gaze glides from my simple navy heels, past my white sundress, to settle on my loose curls. With one look,she scrutinizes every failure I’ve had in her absence over the past ten years. “Hello, Lila.”
My eyes beg for permission to look away. I refuse to give it. “Hello, Grandmother.”
A gruff voice I so seldom heard, I had forgotten its cadence speaks from behind her. “Lila.”
My gaze shifts to be snared by stern, grey eyes. “Hello, Grandfather.”
My hands stay locked at my sides as I remain determined to resist the urge to fidget as they glance around the local steakhouse I picked for lunch today.
