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That’s it.
That’s all the information I got.
I asked why he moved, but I only received silence as an answer.
It’s my own fault for being nosy.
Jay-Jay’s paintings hang on the fridge, an unfinished Lego set is on the table, and the long hallway from the kitchen is littered with photo frames.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I examine each one carefully. All in black and white. I study the newborn draped over a woman’s shoulder. Her profile is beautiful, the black and white casting shadows on her face, and her loose curls hang over her shoulder as she stares at the sleeping baby.
There’s more of Jay-Jay—crawling, laughing on a swing set, holding the first tooth he lost. A gummy smile beams back at me. Every milestone is right here on this wall.
His very own memory lane.
The last one is a wedding photo. She’s thinner than in the other pictures but no less beautiful. Her veil blows in the wind and she’s smiling up at Jake. His hair is shorter, fewer ghosts behind his eyes, and those familiar broad shoulders fill out his tuxedo. He’s bigger now, every muscle more defined, if it’s even possible.
A tear falls before I have time to catch it because he’s so full of hope in the photo, it makes my chest ache. He doesn’t know what’s coming.
Was it the last time she smiled at him like that?
Was it the last time he smiled without pain?
I suddenly feel like I’m intruding on an intimate moment and quickly return to the kitchen.
We stopped by my house on the way, and Jake scoped it better than the FBI. I half expected him to shout ‘clear’ after every room.
He’s bringing my bags to the guest bedroom.
The kitchen door flies open like a hurricane has whipped through the house.
“Claire!” Jay-Jay shouts, running toward me, stopping short of hugging me. His eyes are bright, excitement making him shift on his feet.
I ruffle his hair, and his arms come around my waist, making my chest warm. After the evening I’ve had, I need a hug, and this kid gives the best.
“Dad told Grandma your house is leaking, and you get to stay with us.”
Good thinking, Jake.
“I’m sure they will fix it in no time. You and your dad will have your man cave back.”
God, I hope it is.
I hate the unknown.
He shrugs, adjusting his blue-rimmed glasses. His glasses are different colors every time I see him.
I think this eight-year-old is cooler than I’ll ever be.
“We never have people stay with us.”
Jake was telling the truth. He doesn’t date. Or at least they’re not around long enough to meet his son.
“You can play my piano if you’d like? It’s down the hall.”
This move just got a little easier.
“Thanks, handsome.”
