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“Thank you. That means a lot.” My voice was gruff, so I cleared my throat. “Me too.”
“Good.” Then Donna’s face changed as she backed up, and a steaming-mad expression replaced the gentle one she’d just worn. She lifted a finger at me, the other hand on her hip. “But if you follow through with that idiotic motorcycle idea, I’m going to have your head. Do you understand me?”
A laugh bubbled out of me as the shock of her expression change wore off, and I grinned. “Come on, Mrs. B. Don’t you know I wanna look cool for the ladies? Don’t harsh my vibe.”
She picked up her dish towel and swatted me with it, my teasing tone making her laugh. Then I looked over her shoulder and saw Aria standing in the same doorway I’d been while she’d talked to her mom earlier. It was a night for doorway eavesdropping, apparently. Hopefully she’d only heard the lighter notes at the end and not the gut-wrenching moments that preceded it.
Aria looked so much like the older woman standing before me. Their faces were slightly different thanks to her dad’s genetic contribution, but their mannerisms and expressions were nearly identical. I could imagine Aria in the future, when she was a wife and mom, standing in a kitchen just like this one. In addition to resembling her mother, I also imagined she’d be just as strong, patient, and kind with her future kids that her mom always was to us.
I gave Donna one last–much more casual–hug. “Thanks again for dinner. It was great.”
“Anytime, dear. Be safe.”
“Always,” I replied, heading toward Aria. “You’re still here?”
“Yeah, I was hanging with my dad,” she said as we walked into the living room.
“You always were the last one to leave,” Joe said. He got up from the couch and shook my hand.
There was absolutely zero chance I’d go down that particular stretch of Memory Lane again tonight, so I brushed off his comment and headed for the door. “Well, I’m leaving now. Thanks for having me.”
“Anytime, son.”
I didn’t flinch at his use of the word like I used to, but I came close. “Thanks.”
“I’m leaving, too, Dad,” Aria said, hugging him tightly.
“Did you two ride together?”
“No,” we both said, possibly too quickly and with too much force.
He chuckled. “Okay. Get home safe.”
We gave him a final wave and then did an awkward dance at the door, both of us reaching for the knob and then pulling back several times. With a quirked brow, I put my hands up and backed up. She reached for the doorknob and pulled it open, stepping onto the porch with her designer bag on her shoulder. I followed her out, closing the door behind me.
“So, a motorcycle, huh?” she asked with a blank expression.
Man, I would give anything to know what she thought of that idea. Did she think it was hot? That wasn’t my main motivation for getting the bike, but I’d totally take it as a fringe benefit. Was she about to pull a Shelby and tell me I couldn’t get one? No, that wouldn’t make sense. She wasn’t my ball and chain. And she never would be, no matter how much I wished things were different so she could be.
Instead of giving me a hint about her opinion, she lifted a shoulder and turned to go. “Nice. See ya.”
My feet stuttered down the porch steps after her. “Wait.Nice?That’s it?”
I had no idea why I was dying to know what she thought. Why did I even want to know? What good would it do to find out? If she thought it was hot, I wasn’t going to do anything with that information other than feel guilty about it. If she told me not to get one, I didn’t plan to listen. The feel of the wind whipping past me while I blasted through it, the freedom it promised, the sheer stress relief? Now that the idea of getting a bike had taken root, I wasn’t changing my mind.
“Yeah. Nice. What do you want me to say?”
This brought me up short. I had no idea. “Nice is fine.”
“Great.”
She took off toward her car again, parked on the street in front of mine since both of her parents’ were taking up the driveway. I kept my eyes on her back as I followed her down the sidewalk, unwilling to look up at my old house.
Aria clicked a button on her remote and opened the passenger door, slinging her bag into the front seat. I was in her way. If she turned this way to round her car, I’d be right there when she did. And yet, I didn’t move.
With a toss of her long blonde hair, she spun around, and for the second time tonight, she crashed right into my chest. “Will, crap. Why do you keep doing that?”
“It’s not my fault you don’t watch where you’re walking.”
