“Done,” he replied without skipping a beat.
She laughed, and he opened his mouth to say something, but someone called for him from the back entrance of the gym.
“I’ll catch you later,” Duncan said.
Once he was out of earshot, Philippa said, “I might get my ass a boxing gym membership.”
Retta bid the two of them a good evening and entered her car. She had a date to get to.
Before she could pull out into the street, however, a message came through her phone. She laughed when she read the text her would-be date sent:Hey, so sorry this is last minute, but raincheck?
ChapterFive
As Duncan steppedinto the house he grew up in, a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t holding his breath that it would fade at any point during brunch today.
“Hi,” he said as he entered the bright yellow kitchen. He found his mom in front of the well-used stove and kissed her on the cheek before washing his hands.
“You made it,” his mother said, beaming at him as she placed her hands on her hips.
Gwen laughed from her place at the dining table. She was occupied with marking students’ work, so she didn’t catch his cutting look.
“What do you want me to do?” Duncan asked.
She handed him a plate of pancakes and a jug of orange juice.
“How’re the first weeks going at the gym?” his mother asked as she continued to flutter about in the kitchen.
“Good,” Duncan said, placing the food on the table. “We got a nice feature in a business magazine. Also, we’re seeing decent monthly and annual pass purchases.”
“Look at my baby,” his mother said as she joined them at the table.
His sister put her work away, and they studied the meal spread out in front of them.
“It’s a shame the food is growing cold,” his mother said after a moment, still smiling. She looked at the time on the stove before turning back to face her children. “Just like your father to be late for something scheduled.”
But it was as if speaking about Malcolm Gilmore’s tardiness made him miraculously appear.
“Hello, hello, hello,” Duncan’s dad said, his voice ringing through the house. When he entered the dining area, he slapped Duncan’s back and gave Gwen’s shoulders a squeeze.
He looked over to their mom and said, “Trudy.”
“Malcolm,” she replied, fluffing the short curls on her head.
The greeting was on par with how they interacted nowadays. Before, there might have been a peck on the cheek or a cold hug. If nothing else, Duncan appreciated the lack of pretense. It had been six months since his parents separated. His father moved out soon after the announcement; however, you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at the place. Plants his father had nurtured for years were still in the house. The bookshelf remained packed with his books. Even the coat closet still smelled like his cologne.
They all settled around the table and filled their plates. A breeze filtered in through the open sliding door, carrying with it the laughter of the neighborhood children.
“Where’s Eric?” their dad asked Gwen.
“He’s on a business trip,” his sister said of her long-term boyfriend.
“One day we’ll have everyone at the table,” their mom said, laughing lightly.
For a while, they ate in silence.
“A bit cold,” his father said after a forkful of pancakes.
Their mother took a sip from her glass and said, “Well, if you’d shown up a little earlier, maybe—”
