Is that a bad thing?I waited for him to continue.
His eyes found mine. “I need to clean the house and get their room ready. I need groceries. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get to it, probably late tomorrow before they get in. It will just have to be good enough.”
I scanned the open living area. Some of Luna’s things—books, shoes, toys, tennis equipment—had piled up. There was a growing stack of mail, several water bottles, and a few tubes of sunscreen on the counter. Some dust and dirt had accumulated in the corners from the constant coming and going of all three of us. But it wasn’t bad by any means. Nothing a quick tidy and vacuum couldn’t fix.
“I can help tidy tomorrow. It’s not in bad shape, and I’ll be around anyway.”
“No, absolutely not. Your only job is taking care of Luna. You’re not a cleaner.”
“I know, but I can still help.”
“Seriously, you don’t have to. You have Mimi, and your books to read, your writing, and your return-to-work stuff, plus all the extra hours I’ve needed you to stay with Luna. It’s not necessary.”
I tried not to read too much into him mentioning my writing like it was important. I’d only told him about it that one time. Now he asked me how the writing was coming or if I got many words in almost every day.
“Okay.” I sensed I should drop it for now.
He ran his hand down his face. “I love it when they come to visit. We have a solid relationship, and they adore Luna. She’s so excited to see them. But I always feel like…” He paused, searching for the right words. “I feel like they’re judging me, if I’m doing a good enough job, and our whole life is under a microscope. They always end up saying something about taking her, like she’s some kind of burden to me, or like she’d be better off with them than just with me.” Anger laced his tone.
I’d be angry, too.
He shook his head. “I thought they would have stopped by now.” He glanced around the room again, and I could tell he wasmentally cataloging everything that needed to be cleaned up so there’d be nothing for his parents to critique. “They’re not happy that Monica chose me, that I didn’t decline becoming her guardian, and that I didn’t move back to Pennsylvania with them. But I had just bought this house and started my business here and I wanted to stay.”
“That makes perfect sense, Luke. You were building a life, and you brought Luna into it.”
He nodded and swallowed, but he didn’t look convinced.
“They could move here,” I suggested. I assumed given his parents’ age, they might have some flexibility.
“Ha. It does not go well when I mention ideas like that.” Luke shook his head. “My dad’s business is in Pennsylvania, and I’m pretty sure he will keep working until the day he drops dead.”
My eyes flew wide.
“Sorry. That was in jest. Somewhat. He’s just…intense. Super reliable, and I know he loves us, he’s just…intenseis really the only word for it.”
“I get it.” I opened my mouth to ask a question that popped into my head but thought better of it.
“What?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m sure everything will be fine.” I smiled.
“C’mon, I like knowing what’s going on in there.” He tapped his temple.
I chewed the inside of my lip, contemplating whether to ask my question.
He raised his brows, egging me on.
“Why do you think your sister and brother-in-law chose you and not your parents?”
I wasn’t sure how he’d react to such a personal question, but the smile he gave me certainly wasn’t what I was expecting.
“It took me a while to figure it out. I actually do know why. But I’ve never told my parents, so it’s a secret.” He gestured for me to come closer, like he didn’t want to say it at full volume. I got up from the couch I was sitting on and joined him on the other one.He shifted so his body was angled toward me. We weren’t touching, but we were only separated by a few inches now.
“Everyone was surprised they picked a twenty-eight-year-old bachelor as their preferred guardian over my parents, or Gardner’s parents. My parents offered to take her, but I declined. If that was what Monica wanted before she died, then I wouldn’t let her down. It’s because she didn’t get along with Dad. Nothing too bad, they just didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, especially parenting.”
He paused but I didn’t say anything. I wanted him to go on.
“We were raised in a tough-love household. Dad thought, ‘the world will be hard on you, so I’m going to be hard on you so you’re prepared.’ Monica hated it. He’s not a bad person, and not even a bad dad; he’s just not warm. And in hindsight, he may have taken the tough love thing a little too far sometimes. It didn’t bother me that much growing up—his criticisms about sports or school or some mistake I’d made. But it bothered her. She’d always pull me aside, tell me she was proud of me, that I was doing my best, that I was human, that she loved me no matter what.”
