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“I did.” Except for the two A minuses my junior year of high school and a B fucking plus the first year of undergrad that just about had me spiraling. Maybe in a decade, I’d let that one go.
Tim hummed. “Figured so. But I promise you one thing, Ivy. We would’ve loved that unimpressive attempt just as much, no matter how messy it was. The result is never quite as important to me as knowing someone tried. I always had to remind my straight A kiddos of that because they’re always the first to forget it.”
My heart beat sluggishly, trying to imagine what that kind of grace and understanding felt like as a child. I tore my gaze away from the trees and studied the tired lines of his face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
He gave me a soft smile. “Of course. If I expected all my kids to be perfect, that’s the surest way to end up disappointed in this life. Just like they better not expect perfection out of me. I’ve messed up my fair share, lost my temper, and said things I shouldn’t have said when my frustration gets the best of me. At the end of the day, I want them to be happy and feel loved. To be good, kind, loving people.”
“I think you’ve managed that quite successfully,” I told him, only the slightest tremble in my voice.
Tim reached across the table and gently patted my hand. “Thank you, dear. Most of the time, they’re pretty good kids. I think I’ll keep ’em.”
I know he wanted me to laugh, but my insides were so twisted up from the emotional whiplash this place gave me, I couldn’t quite manage it. The door to the house opened, and Poppy joined us, settling herself on the porch railing opposite our chairs. “When did you get here?” she asked with a smile on her pretty face.
“Not too long ago,” I said.
“She brought me some chocolate,” Tim said. “I’d share it, but Ivy said it’s just for me.” He winked in my direction.
Poppy snorted. “I bet she did.” Then she directed her gaze toward me. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Oh?”
“I’m feeling cooped up. Want to go get a drink with me tonight?”
“I’m feeling cooped up, too,” Tim said. “Does that mean I can come?”
Poppy grinned. “Oh sure, I bet Mom would happily wheel your ass into the bar.”
They both laughed, and I studied Poppy’s facial expression. “You want to get a drink with me?” I clarified. “Why?”
Poppy fought a smile. “Are you always this skeptical when someone tries to befriend you?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
At my frank answer, Tim coughed to cover up his laughter, and my cheeks heated.
Poppy nodded, like my response gave her all the information she needed to know. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Sound good?”
I swallowed around a tight fist in my throat. I had no excuse not to go with her, and the whole reason I was on the front porch to begin with was trying to overcome this ridiculous apprehension of spending time with people who’d been nothing but welcoming and kind and wonderful.
Even if a fear was irrational, it was still fear. And I was finally ready to face it head-on because I was no chickenshit.
My brows lowered. “Is it … casual? Dressy?”
Poppy smiled. “You wear whatever you feel most comfortable in. I’ll probably be wearing a cute top and some jeans.”
My nose wrinkled, and Poppy laughed in delight.
I sniffed. “Well, as long as jeans aren’t required, then yes, seven is perfect.”
Tim glanced between us, a smile hovering on his lips. “Now that that’s settled,” he said, “how about a game of chess? I hear you might like to play, young lady.”
I squared my shoulders and turned in my chair to face him. “I do,” I said cautiously.
Tim nodded succinctly. “Good. Poppy, can you go grab the board for us?”
She hopped off the railing and went back into the house.
I gave him an appraising look. “I won’t go easy on you because you’re being so nice to me.”
