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“You look beautiful,” I whisper, as though I haven’t seen her in days. Only it hasn’t been days, it’s been hours. It’s been two days since our reunion, and we’ve spent as much of them as we can together. I’ve helped her at Animal Haven, and in the evenings after Phil is in bed, we’ve cuddled together on his front porch, looking at the stars and reminiscing about old times.
Her bright smile shines up at me, a pink tinge infusing her cheeks. She bites her lower lip, and I have to step away or risk getting a chubby in front of my parents and Phil.
When I turn to Phil, one side of his mouth is lifted up in what I believe to be a smile. It’s hard to tell, because the other side has a slight droop.
Phil was always larger than life. He had a big heart and an even bigger frame, and if he hadn’t showed up with Mo tonight, I’m not sure I would’ve recognized him. This is the same man who taught me how to shoe a horse and bopped me upside the head when he caught me ogling his fifteen-year-old daughter in her bikini. I have almost as many memories of Phil as I do of my own parents, and I have to swallow past a lump in my throat when I step toward him.
Unsure what he’s capable of, but not wanting to insult him, I hold out my hand and return his smile. “It’s good to see you, Phil.”
It takes a bit of time, but he manages to lift his hand. His grip isn’t nearly as strong as it once was, but I can tell he appreciates the gesture.
“It’s b-been way too l-long.”
“I know it has, sir.”
“Guess that’s n-not a problem anymore?” He glances up at Mo.
She blushes.
Mom smiles.
I laugh.
“No, sir, I suppose it isn’t. And I hope you’re hungry, because Mom made enough food to feed an army.”
He nods jerkily and pulls his hand back, resting it in his lap. “W-what are we w-w-waiting for?”
Mom scurries around to the back of Phil’s wheelchair and pushes him toward the house. I wait until they’re a few steps ahead of us and grab Mo’s hand. Her fingers lace with mine.
“How was it getting him here?” I ask.
“Good. It’s not hard to transport him. He’s able to help me out quite a bit, and I owe most of that to his therapist
s.”
“How many does he have?”
“Just physical and occupational. They come in a couple of times a week, and his caregivers are good at working with him too. Where’s everyone else?” she asks, looking at the empty driveway.
“Mom didn’t want to overwhelm your dad by inviting the whole tribe over on his first trip here.”
She looks up at me. “First trip, huh?”
“If I play my cards right, I’m hoping there’ll be some more family dinners, and a few dates scattered in there, too.”
“Rhett.” Mo stops and tugs my hand. “My life isn’t normal. I can’t just pick up and go out on a date with you or come to one of your shows, and I don’t want you to feel like—”
My mouth on hers stops everything. Her words melt away, and all the jumbled mess of feelings I’ve had lately seem to work themselves out as I lose myself in this kiss. Her hands dip into my hair, and she grips it tightly, pulling me close. My tongue pushes into her mouth, and off in the distance, I register the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Shit. We have an audience.
Mo must hear it at the same time, because she pulls back. Her eyes are hooded, lips swollen. When she places her fingers over her mouth, I pull them away and kiss her again.
“We’re going to finish that kiss later.”
“And the conversation,” she adds softly.
“Would you give the girl some room to breathe?” Dad chides, shouldering past me.
