“My mom is taking Hannah and Parker to a movie tomorrow night, so she is busy.”
“What does my mom know about us, Brody?” I ask, arching an eyebrow. I’ve been tiptoeing around the subject with Mom and Melody, but I’m almost positive Melody knows far more than what I’ve told her, which means Mom is up to date on the current events.
“I don’t think she’s thrilled that we haven’t come clean about us—the time we’ve been spending together.”
I’m in my thirties. I shouldn’t have to confide in her when figuring out my love life, but Mom likes to know all details of mine and Melody’s life. We’re like her personal soap opera. “Things are new,” I tell him.
“Yes, but are we ending this anytime soon?”
My cheeks burn at the thought because I don’t want to end things or even consider the thought because I’m enjoying every moment I spend with Brody. “I don’t want to,” I tell him. “Unless you grow the beard back and then, I don’t know … we might have to have a conversation.”
“Oh my God,” he sighs.
“Actually, the beard isn’t so bad. Maybe you should grow it back. I might like it more now.” I know I’m messing with him, but I can’t let my guard down completely.
“You’re like an evil champion of mind manipulation, Journey.” I grin because I’m proud of my strengths. “So, what do you say? Should I make reservations somewhere tomorrow night for the three of us?”
My gaze falls to the ground as I think through what the night will be like—a million intruding questions, dreamy looks from Mom to Brody, and wedding bells flashing in her eyes. I’ve been watching this happen between Mom, Melody, and Brett. Mom has desperately needed distractions to keep her mind going and from slipping into a state of sadness over losing Dad. Knowing it will bring her some happiness, I suppose it isn’t the worst idea to bring her. “Okay, we can do this.”
Brody reaches over and sweeps his thumb across my cheek. “Everything will be okay. We’re fine. Everything's fine.” Until she asks me if I’ve gone to a doctor. I don’t want to send her on that downward spiral again. It’s why I’ve been avoiding Mom for the last week, keeping our conversations short and somewhat rushed. I won’t lie, but if I don’t give her the chance to ask me questions, I don’t have to dance around the truth.
“Thank you for breakfast, and I’ll be at your house at five tonight.”
“You’re amazing,” he says, leaning forward and gently brushing his lips against mine. The scent of coffee on his breath and sweet taste he leaves behind lingers on my tongue. “I enjoy starting my day off with a dose of you. Plus, you're smiling, and I feel like I did this—it makes me proud. I just wish I could hang it up on my fridge next to Hannah’s artwork.”
I don’t mind his hint of cockiness. It’s cute, but I can’t imagine how large his ego would grow if he knew I would spend most of my day smiling because of him.
Few people make me nervous, but a ten-year-old is making my palms sweat as I pull into Brody’s driveway, parking to the side of his truck. I’m sure at ten, Hannah probably has the mindset of not needing supervision while Brody is away. I was the same way at her age, but the innocence of a tween keeps the scary troubles out of their mind when dreaming of independence, especially at night in a dark house.
I’ve been curious to see how my cleaning job held up, and I’m pleasantly surprised to walk into a clean mudroom and kitchen. Hannah is at the kitchen table with a textbook and a notepad. She lifts her head and shockingly smiles at me. “Hi, Journey,” she says.
“Hey, Hannah. This does not look like fun,” I say, being honest.
“It’s awful,” she agrees.
“Maybe I can help while your dad is at the meeting?”
Hannah shrugs, proving her typical response hasn't disappeared completely.
Brody seems panicked, and, in a rush when he walks into the kitchen, dressed in slacks and a light blue button-down. “You dress for the occasion?” I ask with a small laugh.
He glances down at his attire. “No, I had a vendor meeting at two-thirty, and it ran late.”
“He was late picking me up today,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes.
“You had drama club,” Brody argues, holding his hands up with a look of question.
“If I didn’t have drama club, you would have been late.”
“Yeah, but I knew you had drama club.”
“He’s usually the only parent sitting in the auditorium rooting me on like he’s watching a football game,” Hannah says, shaking her head as she continues to write.
Hannah doesn’t realize how much more she’s making me fall for the real Brody.
“Anyway,” Brody says, leaning down and kissing Hannah on the head. “I love you. Please behave for Journey.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hannah groans.
