“That’s exactly why you have to keep moving. It’s not like I’m expecting you to run a marathon, it’s just to the mailbox and back. Maybe we could use the time for you to tell me more about the tall, handsome guy next door. Or about the prank war.”
“I hardly think some guy who spends all his time with his mother would make a good partner for you.”
“Ah. Another dream dashed. Then tell me more about these pranks.”
“Right,” he said, adjusting himself on the chair with minimal wincing. “So, you know those topiary plants she has along the border of the yard?”
“Yeah. They’re beautifully trimmed, but I can’t figure out what the designs are supposed to be.”
“Oh, to be young and innocent.”
I scoffed, leaning over and gently slapping him on the shoulder.
“That’s what really upped the ante on the pranks.”
“Hmm?”
“The topiaries. She shaped them all like dicks.”
Chapter 3
The warm breezewhipped through the trees as I stared at the grassy patch of earth. Small dandelions had pushed through the ground, and the fuzzy pappi swirled around me. I gripped the plastic cellophane around the tulips, listening to itcrinkle, and grumbled at the white seeds now clinging to my polo. I’d always been a man of few words, but just like the last time I visited—and the time before that—I couldn’t think of anything to say.
Going down to one knee, I laid the tulips beside me and brushed my hand against the cool stone. Yellow pollen had been collecting in the carved letters, so I took a cloth from my back pocket and gently touched the smooth surface. My fingers grazed along, tracing each word in the hope it would ease some of the pressure in my chest.
It didn’t.
The ever-present ache remained. I rubbed my knuckles against my breastbone and glanced at the sky. The sun’s warmth heated my cheeks, and I closed my eyes for two beats, then focused back on my task. Along with the dandelions, clovers were blooming among the swaths of neatly trimmed grass. I plucked the weeds and tossed them aside, still unable to find the will to speak. It wasn’t that Icouldn’t—more like everything that crossed my mind was nothing more than broken promises.
A sharp yip cut through the silence, and I smiled, glancing at Malibu, who’d poked her head out of my open truck window, her tongue lolling and dripping drool. It felt like my first real smile of the day, so I shook my head at the great beast who was always happy to see me, even if I didn’t deserve her love.
“One more minute, darlin’,” I called, raising my hand as she yipped again.
The last clover tossed aside, I plucked the dead lilies from the marble vase and replaced them with the tulips. Still, there were no words to say. I rubbed the back of my neck and shrugged, then stood and went back to my truck, tossing the dead flowers into the cab.
Malibu lunged across the center console and licked me twice before I pushed her away and put on my seatbelt, making short work of the drive to Mom’s condo.
“I think you went a little overboard at the pet store,” she said, taking hold of Malibu’s leash as I struggled to carry the two plush beds and several grocery bags.
“You know you don’t need an excuse to come over here, right? Your visits don’t always need to be about replacing a light bulb or bringing over entirely too many puppy supplies.”
She unclipped the leash, laughing as the Rottweiler ran into the living room and jumped into her oversized dog bed. Turning in three complete circles, she sniffed the air and then plopped down, resting her head on her front paws with her big brown eyes landing on Mom.
“Of course I know that, but why not enjoy your company and be efficient? Plus, most of this is left over from the mutt currently occupying your living room.”
She eyed the price tags on the chew toys in one bag and lifted a brow. My poker face didn’t crack, and she gave up after ten seconds, waving me further into her space.
“Are you making cinnamon rolls?”
“Smell this delicious kitchen and answer your own question. I’ll need you to deliver them for me, please.”
“Deliver?” I asked, stalking to the kitchen and scowling when I saw the dessert neatly wrapped in tinfoil on the counter. My stomach grumbled, and the rolls beckoned, mocking me with their cinnamon deliciousness.
I knew only having a cup of coffee this morning was a mistake.
“Yes. Cam had heart surgery.”
“Oh. You didn’t replace the sugar with salt in those, did you?”
