Except with me.
The hounds of hell couldn’t break the bond we’d forged.
“I met a girl,” I start but pause and then correct, “a woman.”
“You did?” she asks, her blue eyes lighting up. “Well, what are we havin’ so you can tell me all about her?”
I chuckle but it’s bittersweet. So many nights I’d gone to bed hungry growing up—though often Bodhi had lied and given me his portion, saying he was full so that I would eat more. And yet, here we were years later, stable and thriving and about to indulge in a sweet treat just to gossip.
The thought is absurd, but it doesn’t make it any less true.
My brother and I made it, and I won’t ever feel guilty that we hadn’t become a statistic.
“I made bread pudding; have you tried that before?” she asks and I shake my head. She’d changed the question early on after we met fromdo you liketohave you tried…?It was a simple adjustment of words, but the consideration and care they held was something that had nearly brought me to tears.
Because even though Bodhi and I weren’t still searching for change in the couch cushions to split something from a vending machine, we weren’t the kind to go out of our way for something extravagant.
Setting two plates down, she pours us each a cup of hot tea—another thing I’d never had until I came here—before taking the chair across from me.
“Now,” she says as I take a bite and savor the decadent cinnamon and sweet vanilla flavor, “tell me about thiswomanyou met.”
“Lana. She’s incredible. She’s a single mom and we met doing that photoshoot thing for Hannah.”
“I remember her talkin’ about that.” She chuckles. “Givesblind datea whole new meaning.”
“I was supposed to be paired with someone else, but Hannah called that morning and said the guy she’d paired with Lana hadto cancel and asked if I could fill in.” I shrug one shoulder. “It felt a lot like I was supposed to be the one.”
“I do love when that happens,” she agrees as she lifts her mug and blows on the hot liquid before taking a sip.
“I’ve never met anyone like her before—never felt that kind ofpulltoward another person.”
“And you said she’s a single mom?” She chuckles. “Just like my Otto. You boys have so much love to give. I think that’s why you connect with those gals.”
“She’s…a little older than I am.” Shoving the last bite in my mouth, I try to hold off for as long as I can because even though I don’t care, I know other people will. “By about eleven years.”
“How long until I get to meet her?” she asks, completely ignoring the elephant in the room.
“Not gonna comment?” I ask, unable to let it go. Flora is my sounding board, and I need this softball interaction to prepare me for all the bullshit we’ll get if Lana and I keep seeing each other.
“Would you like me to pick a fight about her age?”
“I just know there will be pushback.”
“Mason,” she says, holding her mug in both hands as she stares at me, “all of my children, those related to me and those I’ve claimed as my own,”—she raises a single eyebrow to drive that point home—“have walked a different path and have found their person when it’s suited them. If you’re askin’ if I think you’re too young to have found someone that you hope to be with long-term, the answer is no, you’re not too young.”
“Her kids are twelve and eight.”
Setting her tea down, she reaches across the table and wraps both of her hands around mine. “You don’t need me to tell you all the cruel things people might say. You’ve endured enough of that in your lifetime, and I won’t be the one who adds anything else to that pile. Your heart is big enough to love Lana and herkids if you choose to take that step. And your experience will no doubt bond you to those kids in a way others will never be able to.” I open my mouth to speak but she shakes her head. “Trust yourself to be what they need. Be a good partner for Lana, thoughtful and understanding, and show you’re listening to the things she’s saying. In turn, be a good role model for those kids, be thoughtful and understanding, and show them you’re listening to the things they’re saying.”
I don’t miss the fact that her advice applies to all of them.
“What if the kids don’t like me?”
“You’re impossible not to like, sweetheart.”
Frowning, I take a minute and try to put into words what worries me about taking this leap. “What if the kids don’t take me seriously? Or people who see us together?”
“People will always find something to judge, but that’s a reflection of them,not you,” she says, making it sound substantially easier than it is. “If her ex-husband is a good man and things just didn’t work out, then talk to Otto and let him help you find a way to connect with the ex in a way that creates a positive environment for the kids.”
