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I never tried to contact her, never apologized for the things I’d said. My life took a new turn, and I forced myself to move on. It hurt like a motherfucker, but day-by-day, I adjusted to a world without Darby.
After all these years, who would have thought she’d return? But now, I have my definitive answer, which my gut already knew.
Darby Graham is back.
Chapter 2
Darby
“We have the weirdest parents on the planet.” The dregs of sugar at the bottom of my glass make me gag. “And this is the last glass of sweet tea I drink forever.”
“Heard both of those statements before.” Evin leans back in his chair, tilting it on two legs and perching his feet on the table in an art he perfected a long time ago. I tried it twice and, both times, landed ass back, embarrassed as hell, and one time with a knot on my head.
“Why do two people who love each other this much get divorced?”
It’s the same question I’ve had since I was twenty-five and my parents announced they were getting a divorce. I was in Charlotte and cried for three weeks before my mom and dad showed up together to explain. They never really set me clear, but I had to accept it. Since then, they have continued to not only be best friends and awesome parents, but they grew suspiciously closer. Proof of that is playing out in front of me as Dad guides Mom across the living room floor, holding her close as they dance. He swears it’s the best therapy for her.
She agrees.
They talk softly, huddling close, and he holds her injured hip delicately. Edward Graham loves my mother, and she loves him, so why aren’t they still married?
“I have a bar in the shed. Can we make a run for it?” I whisper.
“Lead the fucking way.” His chair hits the floor hard, thudding as we stand.
“Ed, I think our children are trying to get away from us.” Mom tosses her head our way.
“Let them go. I’ll get you to bed safely.” Dad winks at me.
I race outside the back door, my brother on my heels. Once we are safely inside the shed, I scream, “Make it stop!!!”
“Where’s the booze?” is all I get out of him.
“Everywhere. Full liquor bar set up in the corner, and cold beer and wine are in the fridge.”
“Where do I start?”
“How about pouring me a glass of wine? Get what you want.”
“I’ll open the Pinot if you get this straggler off of me.”
I notice Runner is now full–up on his hind legs, paws on Evin’s chest, and begging for attention. My poor brother is still in his work slacks and shirt, and my dog’s breathing doggy breath with drool. I can’t help but curl over in hysterics, laughing and clapping until my baby pushes him away and pounces on me.
Runner licks, cuddles, and wrestles until I have him half-pinned to the ground, shaking him like a ragdoll. He woofs in approval, lapping his tongue everywhere.
“He needs finishing school.” Evin stands over me with two glasses of wine, watching with amusement.
“He has me. I’m as finished as they come.”
“If you say so. Meet you on the deck.” He steps over us, opening the door and whistling loud. Runner perks up, barely glancing at me for approval, and takes off outside.
I haul my ass off the floor, grab the bottle, and meet my brother on the deck. My butt hits the seat next to his, and I take the wine glass, almost inhaling the whole thing with the first gulp.
“Bliss.” I exhale.
“She’s not stupid,” Evin says.
“I know, but considering she shouldn’t drink on her meds, I don’t want to rub it in her face. She’s dying for a glass of wine, and Dad has explicitly told me he forbids it. I’m not getting in the middle of it. Plus, if she wants to judge my liquor lifestyle, she can bring her ass down the steps, across the lawn, and into the shed to ask me for a drink.”
He chuckles, toasting my glass lightly. “Good to have you home.”
“Thanks.”
“She is better when you’re here.”
“That’s questionable since she has critiqued every healthy meal fixed, quaffed at my attempt to do therapeutic yoga, and blown off the spa baths. She only shows appreciation when I bring home all my left-over items from the bakery.”
“It’s her way.”
“I do kinda like being around. I’ve missed this place.”
“It’d be nice if you stuck around.” The good-natured mood of our conversation changes.
“I’m here for now.”
“You’re not fooling anyone, Darby. Sneaking out at four-thirty in the morning while it’s still dark to go to work. The bakery is so hidden and non-descript no one knows it exists. Having your supplies delivered here and hauling them into town by yourself. Hiring a different delivery driver that meets you around the corner. Then sneaking back and hiding out with Mom until it’s time for bed. It’s been three weeks, and you act like a fugitive on the run.”
