Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I swear, if Grant plays the Hamilton soundtrack one more time, I might go mad. I blame you for making him remember it existed.
Sorry, not sorry.
“What are you smiling about?” Aunt Sherry asked. “A new dating prospect?”
“No, just a friend.” Though the idea of him being any sort of prospect made my stomach clench in a strange way. “Delaney. Lane. I met him at my grief group.”
“I remember,” Mom said. “Sounds like he’s been a good friend to you.”
“He has.” I nodded. “He lives in this century home in Cleveland Heights, and I’ll tell you what—”
“You fell in love as soon as you walked inside?” Keisha teased, knowing my proclivity for old, charming things.
“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far,” I replied, almost wincing as I remembered how I did actually fawn over each room once I stepped inside. “But I did offer to help him refinish the cabinets in his kitchen and some other stuff.”
Though I probably freaked him out even mentioning it. Likely, he thought it would disrupt Grant’s life too much. And that was understandable.
“That’s right up your alley,” Mom said. “But don’t you have enough on your plate?”
I shrugged. “This would be in my spare time. For fun.”
Jeff laughed. “Only you would think something like that was fun.”
“Right?” Keisha said, and I rolled my eyes.
“Your grandfather used to do some dabbling on the side too,” Aunt Sherry said. “He loved fixing up their house. Drove your grandmother crazy.”
“He sure did,” Mom added. I smiled at the memories, thankful again that I’d been able to work with my grandfather and inherit his store.
After dinner, we sang happy birthday and passed around slices of cake. I wasn’t a big fan of Black Forest, but I ate it anyway so Mom wouldn’t get on my case about not finishing my plate.
We retired to the living room, where Jeff turned on the Browns and Steelers game, which was on Primetime tonight, obviously due to their decades-old rivalry. I wondered if the television was on in Delaney’s house and if that was something he and Grant shared. I was going to guess not.
Instead of trying to guess, I lifted my cell to ask him.
Does Grant enjoy sports?
I looked up to watch the Steelers run the ball into the end zone as I waited for his reply. Jeff threw up his hands and grumbled about the defense. The usual.
No. Neither of us really do. Why?
Because I’m at my mom’s and the Browns game is on.
See? I totally forget. LOL. I’ll turn it on now.
Don’t bother. They’re already losing.
Ugh. Figures. How was dinner? Did she like your cake?
Good. And yes.
Glad to hear it.
My thumbs hovered over the keys as I wondered if I should tell him more while my nosy sister was seated right beside me. But she seemed as into the game as Jeff.
I also told them about my date, but only after my auntie drilled me about my love life.
That’s always fun, isn’t it? So how did it go?
Surprisingly well. I know some won’t truly understand, but I feel supported nonetheless.
That’s important.
Yeah, it is. Thanks. So how was your day?
Busy with errands. We also visited Rebecca’s grave. Grant wore his Lafayette coat with the brass buttons in her honor, which is likely why he’s been blaring Hamilton all evening.
Damn, that got to me. It was so symbolic and sentimental, and he probably didn’t even realize it.
Ah, that makes a ton of sense. Damn, your kid is something else. Cooler and braver than I’ve ever been.
My confession to my family paled in comparison.
Yeah…yeah, he is.
When I pushed my phone back into my pocket, I could feel Aunt Sherry watching me, but I pretended not to notice.
11
Delaney
I pulled down my street after a stressful workday. It was late September, and I felt like a heavy cloud was hanging over me, due in part to it being our twentieth wedding anniversary. I’d mentioned it at grief group a couple of months ago when important dates had been the topic of conversation, and I’d been deep in the sorrow and shock of it being two years since her passing. I planned to take some of the advice Judy had offered, including indulging in memories even if they were too painful. It was better than ignoring them and allowing them to fester.
Marcus had been supportive as well, walking out with me to the parking lot that night to discuss it and then texting me today.
Thinking of you.
How in the hell did you remember?
I’m good with dates.
Well, shit, teach me your ways.
Ha-ha, maybe someday. For now, be gentle with yourself.
Thanks. I’ll definitely try.
I didn’t think it would hit me as hard as it did, but this morning I considered calling in sick, queuing up the video from our wedding day, and then wallowing in the melancholy.
But I’d needed to send Grant off to school, which forced me out of bed. Always did. He was well aware of the date—I’d said as much during our visit to her grave last weekend. He’d glared at me as he slid in the front seat, wearing full revolutionary garb, the costume Rebecca had helped him find, as if daring me to say something. The visit was sentimental for both of us, and no way was I going to ruin that.