“Are you planning on taking a vacation soon?” I asked, changing the subject and gesturing to the picture of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
“Me? Nope. I’m perfectly content here, playing pranks on your mother. Summer brought those home from brunch the other day, mumbling about traveling. The aunt that left her that inheritance is from Italy.”
“Oh. I hadn’t realized travel was on her radar,” I said, a mix of anxiousness and hurt crawling up my spine. I pushed away the thought of her leaving on a trip she hadn’t told me about, reminding my foolish emotions that I had absolutely no claim on her. Though, with each passing minute, that was morphing into me wanting her in every way she’d have me.
He huffed, shaking his head as I stepped further inside. “I don’t know what’s on her radar, honestly. But there has to be more to her life than working from the kitchen table and cooking for me.”
“Yeah. My mom is constantly on me about the same kind of thing.”
“Well, parents always want more for their kids. Right now, I feel like she’s in high school, and my only job is to intimidate the poor bastard who shows up thinking he’s good enough for her.”
Cam arched a brow, and I chuckled, feeling every bit like that teenager picking up a pretty girl.
“Then shouldn’t you be polishing a gun or giving me a speech about how you aren’t scared to go back to prison?” I said, arching a brow and waiting for his reaction.
“Do I need to do that, son?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s what I thought. Come on and have a seat while you wait.”
“Thank you. How have you been feeling?”
“Me?” Cam said, as if he expected me to be asking about the Ficus by the fireplace. “I’m fit as a damn fiddle. Even with that low-fat crap your mother and my daughter keep serving.”
“That’s good to hear. Mom says you’ve been kicking her ass at chess. Is that revenge for the rabbit food?”
“Ha! She told you that, did she? And you get it, right? Me whooping her serves her right for thinking a peach pie could be low sugar. And for planting dirty words in the backyard.”
“I’m sorry, what now?”
“Yeah. Look in the backyard some time, would you? She used Bermuda grass to spell outbutt licker.”
I chuckled, running a hand over my freshly shaved chin. “That sounds more like one of my younger brothers than Mom.”
“I wouldn’t put it past that woman, though. She’s wily.”
“You won’t hear an argument from me. Maybe I could sneak you over one of her full-fat cinnamon rolls the next time she bakes them. You know, to make up for the grass. And if you ever want to play someone a little more skilled at chess, let me know,” I said, adjusting my tie and smoothing down my shirt.
“Skilled? You think you have the skills to go up against the five-time champion of the Lyon’s Club annual tournament?” he asked, puffing out his chest and crossing his arms.
“I don’t think I have that kind of talent, but my dad taught me how to play, and I’m willing to try.”
We stood facing one another in the entryway to the living room. My hands hung loosely by my side while his stayed crossed.
“Your dad taught you, huh?”
“Yes, sir. Back when I was in high school.”
“Well then. Let’s see what you got.”
The board was already set as Cam walked further into the room and took his place behind the white pieces. I nodded, moving around to the other side of the table and sitting behind the black.
Within the first three moves, I knew I was screwed. But unlike how quickly he usually wiped Mom off the board, Cam seemedto stretch the game out, making sounds and gestures when I’d almost made a mistake, giving me time to rethink my strategy.
He was at least ten steps ahead of me, but as the game went on and the number of pieces on the board dwindled, the memories from playing with my dad came back like a long-lost friend I’d been unexpectedly reunited with.
“My heart doctor called the other day asking about Summer. Did she tell you that?”
