It felt less like a win than her other smiles, but still worthwhile.
“Cody and Liem seemed nice. Arizona too,” I said. “Like good people to have in your corner.”
She uncrossed her legs and shifted so her feet were under her to one side, her knees pointed at me.
And yeah, I looked at them. Briefly.
When I looked back up at her, her indigo eyes were waging a debate.
“What is it?” I asked.
She rolled her lips together before answering. “Today was the first time I’d met Cody in person.”
My eyebrows shot up. I’d been watching all theexchanges at lunch keenly, and they’d seemed comfortable with each other. Like friends.
“And really, I don’t know Liem all that well either. Not for lack of him trying,” she admitted. “But they’re good people. As for Ari….” She swallowed thickly. “She’s incredible.”
“Your dad sure seemed to agree,” I said with a teasing smile.
Her lips twitched. “Yeah. Speaking of Dad’s attentions….” She leaned back and fished something out of her front pocket. “Here.”
I took the wadded-up napkin from her, my fingertips skimming the soft skin of her wrist unintentionally.
Our eyes met, but she looked away and put her hand back in her lap. “Dad told me to give that to you.”
Best as I could, I uncrumpled the napkin against my thigh. “I’ll be damned,” I said with a smile. “That’s me. The upper half, anyway.” I studied the drawing of me as a seahorse with a chuckle. “Should we frame it?”
Ireland nodded slowly. “I think we should, actually. Hold on.”
She unfolded herself gracefully from the couch, and I dutifully ignored the way my heart had fluttered at her use of “we.”
I had to get a grip.
Less than a minute later, she returned from her room with a wooden frame held against her chest.
“It’s, um, too big for just that, but Dad doodles a lot, so…”
“We’ll fill it in no time,” I said with a smile, completing her thought, trying out the “we” for myself. “Wanna do the honors?” I asked, holding out the napkin to her.
She took it and returned to her spot on the couch butsat a little closer to me this time before setting the frame down carefully on the coffee table.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, hovering my hand over the frame. “May I?”
She nodded, and with the lightest touch, I ran my fingertips over the wood. It was exceedingly smooth, with some faint embellishments obviously made with a precision tool. The corners were perfect, no glue or nails to be seen. The wood was natural, unstained.
“Did your dad make this?” I asked.
“No,” she answered quietly, her gaze still on the frame. “It was made at the Locc. Liem and his uncle did a class where they made these.”
“Sounds nice,” I said.
“It was,” she agreed, but sadness still clung to her as she glanced between me and the frame.
“Gil, Ari’s husband, made this.” Her voice turned soft. Small. “He passed away a few weeks ago. Very unexpectedly.”
My heart squeezed as I processed the information bit by bit. That sweet woman at lunch was a new widow. Liem and his family…. They were all grieving. And so was Ireland.
Thatwas what changed between that morning when we fell on the street and now. Grief.
