"Baby girl, I think that's Stone," My father calls out.
"I thought you were asleep," I fuss back.
"Can't sleep until the house is settled."
My heart is racing and I feel jittery. I take a quick look at my reflection in the refrigerator, smooth a bit of my curls behind my ear, and then the realization hits me. My anxiety is not based in fear, but because I'm actually nervous. Nervous about what this strange felon is going to think about me.
Will he remember me?
Will he think that I'm pretty?
Am I losing my damn mind?
The bell rings again.
Oh crap, now I hear my father around.
"Never mind, Ariana. I'll get the door," he says grumbling. "You're always so slow."
Yeah, slowly losing my common sense.
He beats me to the door, so I just stay in the kitchen. Suspended in motion. Using a wooden spoon to stir a pot of my homemade chicken and rice soup that's already finished cooking.
I can hear the two of them clunking around the living room moving toward the enclosed deck. Carrying what I suspect are Stone's purchases to his new abode. Dad has spent the last seventy-two hours getting what was once a neglected pet project of his into an actual livable space for Stone. It looks really nice now.
He installed insulation and drywall and painted it a soft sugar cookie batter color (my paint selection). He also bought a dark brown sofa bed on clearance, which will be great if Bottle decides to lay on it, because you won't be able to see her hair on the couch at first glance (another one of my bright ideas). Vacuuming Bottle's fur is definitely one of my least favorite chores to do. Pretending that it's not there because it blends in with the couch is a much better plan.
"Sit, girl!" I hear my father reprimand Bottle. I can hear her claws clicking and sliding across the floor. She's definitely jumping all over the place.
"Sorry, Stone." I hear him apologize. "She's just excited."
While my dad has never said the words, I think that he is the one who's beyond excited that his dear deceased friend's son is coming to live with us. My father loves to live his life swaddled in the memories of the people he loved. Jack included.
"What's taking you so long, baby girl?" he asks from the other room. I can hear him settling into his recliner. An ugly piece of furniture that he refuses to donate or toss or preferably burn.
"I'm fixing your soup."
"Smells good but give it a rest, and come out here to say hi to Stone."
I plunk the wooden spoon down on the counter and take a deep cleansing breath as I wipe my clammy hands on a dishtowel.
"Coming."
I'm being silly. If my friends Sloan and Elizabeth could see me they would smack me into next week. I give myself an inner tongue lashing in honor of their absence.
I take a final breath and walk into the living room with a wide smile and my boobs pointed high.
He's just another man.
His opinion doesn't matter.
Let me just get this introduction over with.
* * *
