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“That his father lives across the country and couldn’t come to California with us.”
“And that satisfies him?” he questions, arching a brow.
“Well, he’s five; it doesn’t take much convincing. He’s got a pretty short attention span, so he typically moves on pretty quickly.” I shrug.
“And what about when he gets older?” he presses. “Are you going to tell him the kind of guy his father was?”
“I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” I admit. “Why are you asking me this?”
“I’m just curious.” He shakes off whatever seems to have settled over him. “Come on, I’m dying to meet this little dude.” He smiles, making a move to exit the car.
I grab his forearm, halting his movements.
“Actually, would you mind waiting in the car?” I ask, feeling weirdly awkward asking such a question. “My grandma is really weird about who I bring around Jackson, and even though you’re just an old friend, I really don’t feel like getting the fifth degree right now. I will say friend and all she will hear isguy I’m screwing.”
Ant chuckles next to me, clearly finding humor in my statement.
“You think I’m kidding.” I nudge him with my elbow.
“I think it’s good that she’s protective of him,” he says, falling serious. “Doesn’t hurt to have people looking out for you.”
“True. I just wish she did it in a less intrusive way.” I shake my head. “Just stay put, okay? I’ll be back in five minutes,” I promise.
“I’m timing you.” He checks his wrist even though he doesn’t have a watch on.
I smile, quickly climbing out of the car, my stomach full of what can only be described as butterflies; feeling like at any moment I’m going to take flight.
God, I just need to get over whatever the hell is wrong with me right now. I mean, Ant always had a way of making me feel a little giddy. I acknowledged the crush I had on him long ago—at least to myself—and I found a way to not let it affect our friendship. So why is it I can’t seem to shove those feelings back into the same file as before—the one that saysProperty of your Best Friend, do not open.
I try to push down the inner turmoil brewing deep in my gut and step inside the house, finding my grandpa kicked back in his normal recliner, a newspaper just inches from his face. I smile at the sight. How my mother came from these people I will never know. They are sweet and caring, willing to do anything for anyone. And my mom… Well, let’s just say she couldn’t be more opposite.
“Hi, Grandpa.”
My voice pulls his concentration and he looks up from his paper, meeting my gaze over the top of his glasses.
“Hi, darlin’,” he greets me with his usual endearment.
“Where’s Grandma?” I ask, finding the house quieter than it normally is when my child is here.
“She’s out back. That boy of yours is helping her in the garden.”
“Putting him to work, is she?” I smile.
“More like he’s putting her to work. He couldn’t wait to go outside and dig.” He chuckles, setting the newspaper in his lap.
“So he should be nice and dirty for me then,” I joke, crossing through the living room toward the back sliding glass door.
“That’s what grandparents do,” I hear him say just moments before I’m exiting into the backyard.
My eyes instantly land on Jackson, his dark hair matted to the side of his face from sweat as he uses a green plastic shovel to dig next to my grandma. He looks up when he hears the back door close and instantly jumps to his feet.
“Mama!” He smiles wide before taking off toward me.
“Hi, buddy.” I lean down and give him a big hug despite his dirt-covered clothes. “You having fun with Nana?”
“She let me pull weeds,” he says excitedly.
“She did?” I laugh, knowing that in ten years she probably won’t be able to pay him to pull weeds, and yet at this age it’s something he thinks is so cool.
