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He leaned back in the matching floral chair. “Yeah.”
“Do you live here now?” I asked.
Dex laughed, his eyes crinkling. “No. I live about ten minutes from here. I’m here today helping my dad. He had this silly notion to build a bird house…and he has no tools.”
“Married?” I continued the inquisition.
“No,” he ran his fingers through his wavy dark hair.
“Why not?” The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them. “I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I’m not trying to be nosy. I just—”
“I understand,” he smiled. “You want to get to know me. I was married, but turned out she was banging my boss as well. Real stand up lady. We have a daughter together. Here, I have a picture,” he tugged his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it up.
I smiled at the girl’s picture. She appeared to be about five or six, with straight dark brown hair that reached her shoulders and bangs straight across her forehead. A dimple indented each cheek. She was absolutely adorable and she was my family…my cousin. Holy crap, I had a cousin.
“She’s beautiful,” I handed his wallet back. “What’s her name?”
“Ella,” he answered.
“Do you see her often?” I ventured to ask, praying it wasn’t a sore spot for him.
“Every weekend,” he smiled sadly. “I wish it was more. She’s such a joy. Can’t say the same for her mother though,” he laughed humorlessly. “So,” he pointed a finger to Trace and me, “you two dating?”
“Married,” Trace answered.
Dex narrowed his eyes at Trace’s left hand. “I don’t see a ring.”
“That’s because we got married two days ago,” I supplied. “We’ll exchange rings when we get back home.”
“Mhmm,” Dex hummed in disbelief, sizing Trace up. “Don’t hurt her,” he warned.
It secretly pleased me that Dex was putting on a father act. I had grown up believing Aaron was my father, but he’d never been very…fatherly. I didn’t know what it was like to have a normal father/daughter relationship. Heck, my relationship with my mother had been far from normal with the constant fear she lived with.
The sound of a garage door going up had me on edge.
“Showtime,” Dex waggled his brows.
Trace’s hand sought mine, entwining our fingers together. “It’ll be okay,” he said confidently.
I held my breath, waiting for one of my grandparents to enter the room.
“Dex? Where are you?” A man’s voice called out. “That little punk at the hardware store was less than helpful. Honestly, America’s youth. What are they teaching those kids in school these days? Obviously not manners,” he grumbled. “And did you see that Camaro parked out front?” He continued to rattle as the sound of plastic bags being set down met my ears. “I haven’t seen a ride that nice in forty years.”
“Dad?” Dex called out. “Why don’t you come into the living room, there’s some people I’d like you to meet?”
“What are they selling? Tell them I’m not interested. I might be old but I’m not stupid.”
“Dad,” Dex said a little more sternly. “They’re not selling anything.”
“Then why’d you let them in? Are they holding a gun to your head or something, son? Where’s my shotgun?” He muttered and I heard his feet shuffling against a tile floor. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.
“Dad, just get in here,” Dex rolled his eyes and mouthed, ‘old people.’
“Alright, alright, I’m coming. You don’t need to be so demanding. What happened to treating your elders with respect? I did give you life, don’t forget that.”
An older man with a slightly stooped back and white hair appeared in the doorway. His face was heavily lined but there was a light in his eyes that made him seem much younger.
The breath left my lungs in a gust as his eyes met mine.
