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“You want me to swing by and pick you up?”
“Nah, I’ll just meet you there.”
“All right, man, see you soon.”
“See ya.” I end the call, tossing my phone on the couch. I close the document I was working on and shut down my laptop before placing everything in a pile on the coffee table. There is definitely no working happening for me today.
I need to get out of this house and out of my own head. I have to stop thinking about her. I should drop in on Palmer and see how the edits are going, but that defeats the purpose of me trying to stop thinking about her.
“Fuck it,” I mutter. Standing, I head to my bedroom and change into a pair of dark jeans and a black fitted T-shirt. I may not get to socialize much, but I still hit my home gym at least five days a week. However, it’s not often I get to show off the fruits of that labor. Tonight is not one of those nights. Tonight I won’t be dressed in my normal suit. Sometimes even if I meet the guys after work for dinner or beers, I go straight from the office. It almost feels foreign to be in plain clothes anywhere other than my own home.
Making sure I have my wallet, I grab my keys and my phone, and I’m out the door. I have no idea where I’m going. I still have a couple of hours before I meet the guys at the Tavern. There’s a part of me that wants to just go sit at the bar, but I know I can’t do that for a multitude of reasons.
I promised Mom I’d come and visit this weekend, and there is no better time than the present. Turning right out of my driveway, I head to their house. It’s dinner time, and my stomach growls. Some of my mom’s home cooking is exactly what I need.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into their driveway. As soon as I climb out of my truck, I can smell the grill, and my growl is more of an intense roar at this point. I don’t bother with the front door. Instead, I make my way around the side of the house and find my parents sitting on the back deck.
“Deacon!” Mom’s face lights up when she sees me. “We didn’t know you were stopping by. Are you hungry? We have plenty.”
“You know there’s no better steak than mine,” Dad tells me.
Cliff Setty is a mean machine on the grill. He mixes his own spices and holds that shit close to his chest. It doesn’t matter how many times I ask for the combination. He refuses. He claims that’s what keeps his kids coming home to visit.
“It smells great,” I say, laughing at him. “You ever going to give up that recipe, old man?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“It’ll be in my will,” he tosses back.
“I wrote your will,” I remind him.
“Fine, it will be in the house. You’ll have to search for it.”
“You hear this?” I ask Mom.
She just shakes her head. “He won’t even tell me.”
“And she,” Dad points his tongs at Mom, “is the love of my life.”
“I’m your son. You made me.”
“She did that.” He points at Mom again. “I just came in with the assist.” He winks at Mom, and the smile that she rewards him with is the one I’ve seen a million times growing up. It’s the look that tells him that he owns her own heart and the look that also shows that she knows she has his too.
My parents have the best relationship. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not all sunshine and roses. They argue like the best of couples. It’s that they never give up. They work out whatever it is, and the love they have for each other always outweighs all the other bullshit. All the white noise. They’re solid, and they gave my sisters and me a great example of what a healthy relationship looks like
“What brings you by?” Mom asks.
“I just needed a break. I’m going to meet Orrin at the Willow Tavern later for a couple of beers. I promised you that I’d stop by.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. You can tell me all about today.” She grins.
“Today?”
“The photo shoot. Palmer was so excited. How did Ramsey do? She was so nervous.”
Ramsey.
Shit. I thought I could come here and get her out of my head, but I should have known better. My parents have always been involved in everything we do. They’ve supported our dreams, no matter how big or small, and I’ve heard her talk about Ramsey before.
“It was fine.” I don’t dare tell my mother that I’m still thinking about the dark-haired beauty. She’ll want to play matchmaker. Then again, probably not. Ramsey is young. I'm more than likely to get lectured on how I need to find a nice woman my own age to settle down with. Either way, neither conversation is one that I want to have.
