Pulling up my phone, I see that time is not on my side. No more procrastination. I have to face everyone.
I stroke the back of my hand across Bo’s cheek once. “You’re about to get a lot of attention. A saving grace really. The truth is, I’m scared. Your mom thinks they will judge her, but it’s probably me who will face their wrath.”
But I can’t break. Summer and my brother are counting on me to make it all okay.
Opening the front door,I hear the tail end of a conversation about what my mom will cook for Thanksgiving. Dropping the bag of groceries on the floor by the bottom of the stairs, I hold Nephew in my other arm. I take a few strides into the living room.
Then it happens.
My parents have smiles of happiness with a hint of sadness when their heads turn.
Summer’s eyes catch with mine as she sits on the edge of the sofa arm. She must have been facing the brunt of chit-chat for who knows how long.
“There is my little bear.” My mom’s arms are already outstretched to take over as she stands. She looks a bit more refreshed than a few months ago. No longer frail, she must be returning to her bi-weekly trip to the salon for her nails and hair, and she’s back to wearing slacks and turtlenecks with jewelry.
“Here he is.” I grin and rub Bo’s stomach, right before my mom snatches him out of my arms.
My father joins my mother to look down at their grandson. “Already turning into a little gentleman.” Dad is just the same, stoic and wearing a polo shirt. His steely demeanor means that I’ve never quite figured out what he’s been going through since Zac died.
My mom glances up and has a warm smile on her face. “Don’t you just turn into a puddle of goo every time you see this little guy,” she asks me with eyes bright.
I swipe my hand behind my neck. “Well, I’m still standing, so I guess not a puddle.”
“You’re just getting way too big.” She’s already rocking him side to side on her hip.
My eyes shift to my father who has taken a step back. His eyes have a glint in them, and as per usual, he is hard to read, but our eyes meet for a chilly recognition.
The moment is broken when Summer clears her throat. “How was the grocery store?”
“Fine. Bo loves it,” I tell everyone. “Which reminds me, I should get the bag of stuff into the fridge.”
“I’ll help.” Summer sounds way too eager, but my parents don’t seem to bat a lash. They are completely in the Bo zone.
Summer and I make the quickest exit in history, and I swipe up the bag on that journey. When we’re in the kitchen, I set the bag on the counter and begin to unpack. Summer helps but bubbles a laugh as she holds up a box of oatmeal.
“Don’t see any items that need the fridge.” Her brows rise, as she’s well aware that she called me out.
“Trust me, I debated if pre-chilled wine was the way to go but decided against it. Can’t have them thinking that we need a shortcut to downing some alcohol percentage.”
The soft smile on Summer’s face puts me at ease, and she turns to rest her back against the counter and crosses her arms. “They haven’t cried yet,” she mentions delicately.
On the opposite side of her, I mirror her pose. “That’s good.”
“Your parents only asked about the Dizzy Duck and how it’s funny that I trust you to take Bo alone somewhere. More in a joking way.”
My nose lifts up. “Maybe this won’t be as emotional as we thought.” I sound hopeful.
Summer quirks her lips out, and it’s clear she doesn’t quite believe me. “At some point a reminder will hit them of who is missing at Thanksgiving dinner.”
I don’t like hearing that realization, so I widen my eyes and survey the kitchen, deciding a snack plate for the room is in order. “You already got them drinks, right?” Avoidance of the upcoming holiday weekend is where I seem to be heading. “Maybe some cheese and crackers? I think we have olives somewhere,” I jabber away as I search for crackers.
“Sure. I think they will only stay a little longer then grab dinner themselves somewhere. They must be tired from their trip.”
A long sigh leaves me as I break the seal on a canister of nuts that I found in the cupboard, completely giving up on crackers. “Summer…”
She subtly touches my wrist from behind. “Nash.”
“Why does it feel like the next few days are going to be hard, and it might have nothing to do with us?”
