I was too busy cooking to do anything but watch in horror as he and my dad went through old family albums, looking at pictures of me.
If this was some kind of cosmic punishment for wrongdoing, I was incredibly sorry for whatever I’d done and I wouldn’t do it again.
“Look at his chubby little cheeks, oh my god,” Wes enthused, reaching out to trace the photo.
Judging by how hot they felt, the tips of my ears were literally on fire. I was almost tempted to check and make sure Ihadn’tsomehow set them alight.
“You were so short,” Wes added, glancing over at me but barely taking his attention away from the baby pictures.
“I was six,” I defended. “Or maybe seven in that one. I bet you were short when you were six or seven.”
“I was always tall for my age, actually,” Wes said.
“Hayden shot up when he was fifteen. Went from coming up to my shoulder to towering over me practically overnight,” Dad interrupted.
“I don’ttower,” I said, tossing bacon in the frying pan I was watching.
Dad had clued me in that bacon was a weakness of Wes’s and promised me that he knew what he was doing when it came to his own diet,thank you.
I didn’t think it was unreasonable for me to worry. From his perspective, he’d had a heart attack three years ago and was practically recovered. Frommine, he’d had one this morning, because that was the first I’d heard of it.
I couldn’t believe I’d missed it. Now that I looked back, there might have been clues—but I’d been so busy with my own life that I hadn’t noticed them.
We’d had a long talk after breakfast, Dad making it clear that he’d agonized over the decision but ultimately didn’t want my career failing to take off on his conscience.
And then later he’d dug up a box of magazines and newspapers—a lot of them clearly sourced from New York—full of articles I was mentioned in, or that were about awards I’d won.
He’d followed me every step of the way, even when I’d been too busy to eat outside of the kitchen at work or sleep more than a few hours a night. Even when we hadn’t talked for months.
Dad loved me.
I could accept that, even if I didn’t like that he’d hidden his health problems from me.
“Is that bacon?” Wes asked, sniffing the air like an eager puppy.
I couldn’t help the tiny smile that spread over my lips. Dad had been right, this was a good call.
“It is. It’s hot, I’m making carbonara. I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow.”
“I can go,” Wes volunteered. “If you give me a list.”
I looked up at him, surprised. Dad paid him to do things like that, but I wasn’t Dad. He didn’t have to go out of his way to help me.
“I’ll be… umm… if you need to go into town I wouldn’t hate the company, but…”
You don’t have to, I thought, even as I desperately wanted to ask him to come with me and let him know that I’d like that. Without having to dance around it.
Sex was one thing—Wes clearly liked sex—but actually hanging out with me, goinggrocery shoppingwith me, that was a different thing entirely.
“I do have to go into town,” Wes said, and whether that was true or not, I was choosing to believe it. “I can show you around, we could meet Seth for lunch…” he trailed off, grinning.
“I’d like that,” I said before Wes could take it back. I knew he was teasing, but I didn’t have a lot of friends, and Seth apparently wanted to count himself among them. He wasn’t the kind of person I’d normally befriend, but why should that matter? He was a good person. Fun, even, now that I was getting used to him.
“I’ll… let him know,” Wes said, clearly surprised. But happy, I thought. Pleased that I was getting along with his friends.
“Good.” I turned back to my cooking. “There’s two minutes on this, time to put the baby photos away.”
“I know where your dad keeps them,” Wes said. “I can look at these any time I want.”
