I knocked twice on the door before opening it. “It’s just me,” I called out.
“We’re in the kitchen,” my mom replied.
I followed the sound to the kitchen, where she was standing practically hip-to-hip with my dad. They had their backs toward me and were laughing about something. After a moment, my mom sighed softly and kissed my dad on the cheek before turning to see me standing on the other side of the breakfast bar, waiting.
“There you are, honey. How are you?” Mom wiped her hands on a towel and rushed over to wrap me in her arms.
Immediately, tears stung my eyes. I blinked them away, squeezing her tightly. “I’m okay,” I said, my voice thick and husky.
Mom pulled back and looked at me, fixing me with her chestnut brown eyes. “Asher…” Her tone was a warning.
“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
“If you insist.” She patted my arms as she let me go. “We were just making fettuccine alfredo with chicken. And your dad’s making a salad.”
I grinned and nodded. “I do love your chicken alfredo.”
“Good. Now sit.” She pointed at a chair with her big stirring spoon.
“Let me help you,” I said, stepping around the bar and into the kitchen.
Mom swatted me with a towel. “I have enough help with your dad in here. You can set the table if you need something to do with yourself.”
“Deal.” I grabbed the plates I’d need and set them out before getting glasses, cutlery, and napkins onto the table.
I watched with an ache in my chest as my parents cooked together, laughing and smiling, having a great time together despite the fact that they’d just spent a month together on a cruise ship. I wanted that, wanted what they had. I missed Micah.
Once Mom served dinner, she took a seat across from me and gestured for me to fill my plate. As I did, she started peppering me with questions. “So, what’s new? How are you feeling? How’s your shoulder? And your head?”
“Mom. One thing at a time.”
Her smile was sheepish. “You’re right. How’s your head?”
I nodded and piled my plate with pasta and slices of chicken breast. “It’s good. No more headaches. Seems to have healed well.”
Dad spoke up then, clearing his throat to interrupt. “And that shoulder?”
“It’s great.” I rotated my shoulder a little to prove it.
He nodded and took a bite of his pasta. After a moment’s thoughtful chewing, he put his fork down. “How did it happen again?”
I laughed, embarrassed, and looked at my plate for a moment before meeting his gaze. “I fell off a ladder.”
“Oh, Asher!” Mom said.
“I know,” I muttered, already knowing what she was going to say. “I shouldn’t be going up ladders.”
Mom shook her head slowly. “You know you’re not good with heights. You haven’t been since—”
“Iknow, Mom.” What I knew was that I sounded like a petulant kid right then.
She held up her hands to stop me. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”
I gave her a softer smile and nodded again. “I know. Thank you.”
“Well, let’s talk about something else. What’s new in your world, honey?”
“Linda,” Dad said, putting a hand over hers. “Let the boy eat.”
