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“I don’t really. I sort of…looked it up,” Grant said, his cheeks pink. “It’s just that it's old and cool and should be shown off.”
“I like that idea,” I said, and Marcus agreed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll text you when I’m coming home.” Grant got on his bike and headed down the driveway toward Ellie’s house.
“Have fun,” Marcus said with a wave, then turned to me. “Good job, Dad.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not freaking out about the car thing. Or maybe it’s just me who’d have a hard time with my teen on the road.” He winced. “That might have to do with Carmen’s accident, though.”
Fuck, I’d forgotten about her car accident. He hadn’t mentioned it in a while.
“I’m sorry. That totally makes sense.” When I squeezed his shoulder, I could feel him shiver, either from my warm hand or the memory. “And don’t let me fool you. I’m always freaking out about Grant’s safety. But I’ve been trying not to make him feel like a little kid.”
Marcus playfully elbowed me. “I say it’s working.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, my ears feeling hot.
We stared at each other for an elongated moment, and I couldn’t help thinking how appealing he was even in his paint-stained work clothes. I cleared my throat. “So, I’m gonna go finish prepping that wall.”
“Sounds good.”
I headed inside to update the electrical socket and put tape around the trim and baseboards. Then I got lost in the motion of the paint roller, which I’d always felt was somehow soothing. Before I knew it, another couple of hours had passed. I stored away the paint supplies and my tool kit, then scrubbed my hands in the sink.
“All set for today,” Marcus said, startling me out of my thoughts as he came through the door. “Looks good in here. Okay if I use your bathroom to wash up?”
“Of course. You have plans to get to?”
“Not really. Just hate the dust from the sander.”
“I hear you.” I hesitated a moment, then said, “You wanna grab dinner? I have some leftover chicken paprikash, or we could order—”
“I would love some,” Marcus said, and my stomach felt all funny, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because I enjoyed his company so much. He turned toward the hallway with the bag he’d brought in. “Be right back.”
I pulled out the leftovers, then set the table while it was reheating.
“Smells amazing,” Marcus said when he rejoined me in the kitchen. He’d changed into clean jeans and a T-shirt.
There was too much clutter around, so we took our plates and a couple of beers into the living room. We ate on the couch while watching an action movie that was already in progress.
“So good,” Marcus said as he shoveled in another bite, and I smiled, pleased at the compliment. A comfortable silence descended while we enjoyed our food and relaxed.
“Has Grant ever dated anyone?” he asked, his gaze transfixed on a photo of the three of us on the end table. It was of us downtown in front of the Playhouse Theatre, the Hamilton marquee lit above our heads. Grant had been so happy that night, had even dressed for the occasion.
“No. We did wonder about Ellie at one time, but I think they’re just tight, and Jeremy rounds out their trio. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t really know. Just curious, I guess.” He glanced over at me. “He’s a good kid and would certainly make for an interesting date.”
“He would,” I replied, then winced. “Though it’s hard to imagine your kid flirting with anyone.”
Marcus laughed. “Just like it was for us to imagine our own parents.”
“True,” I mused. “Grant would shield his eyes whenever I’d hug or kiss Rebecca. Just like I did when my dad would give my mom those eyes. You know the ones I’m talking about.”
“Oh yeah, I’m well aware.” Marcus placed his empty plate on the coffee table. “Would you consider yourself an affectionate person?”
I thought about it a second, but the answer came almost immediately. “Definitely. It feels nice to be touched. How about you?”
Marcus nodded. “I miss that. Which is why the offer from the other night still stands.”
Our eyes met and held. I could feel myself trembling, so I placed my empty dish atop his. I nearly got up to take them to the sink to avoid the conversation but then stayed put to face it head-on. I thought about it at least once a day, after all. “I wouldn’t mind another one of your hugs.”
Without a word, he pulled me against him as if he’d only been waiting for permission. I wound my arms around his neck, my head landing at his throat as I took in his spicy scent and the warmth of his skin.
“Fuck, why does this feel so good?” I murmured against his skin, making him shiver.
“Because it’s human contact?”
