Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“You are not a threat to me.”
“Not you.”
It’s my turn for bewilderment to appear.
“But the memories of what your family was like before I entered it.”
He’s shot a second glare, yet this one is much deeper. Colder. “Why are you calling?”
“I was hoping that you might be interested in grabbing a bite since you’re still in town.”
Oh, no.
This is definitely a neon bright sign to change that shit.
“I would like to get to know you. More about your travels and artwork. And maybe in doing so, you might be more receptive to get to know me. See what we have in common.”
“Please don’t feel compelled to play the doting parent role with me to overcompensate for your failed relationship with a biological son.”
“I don’t have a biological son.”
My mouth twitches open to make the obvious correction.
“Or daughter. I have no children of my own.”
“And I don’t need you to suddenly pretend you want one just because you gave my grandfather a whale tooth.”
“Huh?”
Realizing the Fijian custom is probably unknown to many outside the region, I simply shake my head and snap, “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you don’t have to do a song and dance and put on an ‘Oh, I’ve always wanted a son’ performance to appease my fucking family.”
“I have always wanted children of my own.”
“Then why didn’t you have ‘em?”
“Slow swimmers.” He openly admits without hesitation. “Plus, I married Janine late in life. Unfortunately, around the time we were to start discussing fertility options and the possibility of adoption, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.”
Guilt gut punches me so hard that I’m thrown back into my chair. “Fuck…”
“It was…” his voice noticeably dips, “hard to get through. Hard to wanna live after.”
I honestly don’t know what’s worse.
Having to slowly watch the person you love die or having them snatched from you suddenly.
“However, I did.” He regains his composure at an impressive rate. “And I’m glad I did because I eventually found my own selfish reason to get out of bed every morning, Tucker, and that’s Brit.”
Against my own volition, I warmly smile.
Maybe because I get it?
Maybe because the way he feels about the heartless woman who just locked my father away like a curse she couldn’t bear to face is the way I feel about the female who has made it okay to cry about old memories of him while watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle reruns.
Maybe she has provided him with comforting arms she never could me.
And if she has?
Good for him.
But fuck her.
“She mentioned you like street food,” Richard cautiously continues. “Maybe we could meet downtown for dinner one day next week?”
I don’t reply.
“Or lunch?”
No answer.
“Uh…maybe coffee?”
Still not a word escapes.
I want them to.
I wanna tell him that maybe he has an interesting story to be told and that maybe I wanna know about him and that maybe – just maybe – he might be an alright dude with shit taste in women, which happens.
A lot.
But I can’t.
Won’t.
Not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because she doesn’t.
Because I can’t welcome some new man into our family to make memories with when I’m not even entitled to the previous ones.
The ones she buried in the ground with him.
“Take your time, Tucker,” he proclaims after a long pause. “Call or text me if you’re interested. At any time. I’ll text you my personal cell too. You can reach me on either.”
Nodding occurs in spite of the fact he can’t see it and ending the conversation there is effortless.
Almost as effortless as it is getting up out of my patio chair.
Going into my bedroom.
Grabbing my backpack.
Putting it on the bed for optimal packing capabilities.
“Tuck!” June unexpectedly calls out, interrupting the beginning of my ritual bailing movements. “I’m back!”
There’s no resisting the smile just the sound of her voice brings my face; however, I can’t deny the prickle along the back of my neck that indicates it won’t always do the trick. That one day…one day soon…I’ll start packing and not stop until I’m finished.
And when that day comes?
I hope she’s not around to see it.
Seeing my favorite masterpiece take that type of damage isn’t something I wanna witness.
Not if I can avoid it.
Thankfully…avoiding is my specialty.
Chapter 14
June
Sometimes life gives you inspiration when you least expect it.
Or in my case when I always least expect it.
Nonetheless, all of Tuck’s Greek and Roman mythology references make for a fun art class exercise.
“Miss June!” Chloe Alvez, the adorable five-year-old primarily being raised by her oldest sister shoots her hand into the air. “Is this what Apena looked like?!”
“Athena,” I warmly correct while picking up a few of the fallen air-dry clay pieces we’re working with. “And you know the rules on art. It’s yours. So, make it however it you feel it.”
“Which is a brilliant policy,” Tucker encourages from his nearby seat where he too is playing with the crafting material.