“Hang in there one more month, little guy.”
I’m happy for him, I really am, but I don’t need to witness this sickeningly sweet display.
An odd, prickling sensation goes up my back, like I’ve stepped into a warm draft. I turn around, and there’s Hope standing in my mother’s open front door. Amy greets her as she lets her in, but Hope’s eyes scan the room until they land on me. Her genuine, open smile lights her face, and my heart kicks to rival my nephew. My feet take me across the room to her before my brain can think to tell them to.
“It’s real sweet of you to join us,” Amy says to her when I reach them. “Kat’s in the dining room, I think, and the boys are, oh—here’s Griffin.”
She takes me by the sleeve and moves me even closer, as if I hadn’t been angling for that spot already.
Hope’s smile melts into something else. Not pity, but closer to embarrassment. Like she isn’t sure if I’ll welcome her here and now. We’ve been working side by side all week, and I never mentioned this gathering. I hadn’t wanted to add to this somber party, but I’m grateful to whoever asked her.
She lifts a box in her hands. “I brought a pie from Blackbird’s, I hope that’s okay. It’s a coconut cream. Maureen said that was your dad’s favorite.”
“It was. That was good of you.” The lump in my throat makes my words stick.
“Why don’t I take that into the kitchen for you, honey?” Amy says.
“Put it in the fridge, will you?” I’m selfish, and I don’t want to share this small gift.
Amy pats me on the shoulder and slips away.
I stare at Hope, trying to figure out how she knew to be here.
“I didn’t invite you to this.”
Her gentle smile crumples, and she shrinks closer to the door. “I’m sorry, I—”
I take her by the elbow, her thick, brightly striped sweater softer beneath my fingers than I imagined. My brain is too busy keeping my heart in check tonight to monitor the things that come out of my mouth. I do this a lot. Half the time I don’t care, but this time, I need to make it right.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” I lightly squeeze her arm, wanting to hold on, pull her close,something. But those things would probably tell her more than I’m prepared to. I let her go. “I didn’t know you knew about tonight. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Your mom mentioned it in the store the other day. I just thought…” She looks around at the few dozen people spread throughout the main level of the house. “Well, I wanted to stop by.”
“Thank you.”
“There are a lot of people here.” Her attention snags on the spinning vinyl in the corner by Dad’s guitar. “I kind of wasn’t expecting Led Zeppelin to set the mood, though.”
I laugh softly. “One of his favorites.”
“This explains a lot about your warehouse playlist.” Her mouth pulls into another soft smile, and I feel it straight between my ribs. Her fake smiles leave me itching for something real, but this one is like fireflies soaring around in my chest, leaving sparkling trails behind them.
Is it sacrilege for my stomach to soar when she looks at me this way, here at Dad’s final one-year anniversary? I decide…no. Dad would have shoved me in her direction and told me to go after her. He probably would have already scolded me for dragging my feet, and I only reconnected with her a few days ago. Halfway was never his style.
“Soon you’ll know all my secrets.”
She tips her head to the side. “I doubt that.”
I wouldn’t be so sure. I’m not one to open up much, but when she looks at me like this, I’m tempted to start.
“I’ll never forget how happy James was that day,” a voice says loudly, cutting into our moment.
A small group in the living room has gathered around Bill, one of Dad’s long-time friends. He raises his glass toward Caleb, who still stands with Rowan near the dining room.
“You’d just graduated with a degree in landscape design and told him you were coming home to work with him. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so proud. You made your dad’s dream come true.”
Bill shines a soggy smile Caleb’s way, oblivious to the dagger he’s stuck deep in my chest. I stand stock still while he goes on about how happy my brother made our dad when he joined the family business.
Working with him was the only thing Dad had ever really asked of me. And the only thing I’d ever refused him. If there’s one thing I don’t want to hear about tonight, it’s Dad’s business.
