“Honestly, I don’t know why I did that. I show it to other people. Maybe I didn’t want them to make a big deal about it?”
“It’s what we talked about at the wedding. It doesn’t matter how old you are. That parent-child dynamic is still there.” Donovan could see how constant praise and adoration might get old, even if there had been times in his life when he’d been desperate for that from his own mother. “I’m glad you had this time with them.”
“Me, too.”
Two women were lurking behind Lela, whispering and pointing. “I think you have some visitors.”
She turned and one of the women blurted, “You’re Lela Bennett, aren’t you? We love your hair. Can we take a picture with you?”
“Of course,” Lela said without hesitation. “Actually, Donovan, can you take the picture? That way all three of us can be in one together?”
“Happy to play photographer.” Donovan took the woman’s phone and watched as Lela positioned herself between her two fans, with her arms around them and an easy smile on her face. Her big blue eyes lit up the frame, and warmth bloomed in the center of his chest, but the sensation wasn’t pain. It was something else. “I got five or six good ones.” He handed over the phone.
“Thank you so much,” the woman said to Donovan, then promptly ignored him as they peppered Lela with questions. The woman’s friend even showed Lela where she was starting to let her roots grow out. She was highly concerned with how long the phase would last.
Lela said, “It’s different for everyone. Take good care of yourself and your hair should grow faster. But sometimes it’s one of those things you just need to tough out.”
The two women said their goodbyes then wandered off, happy and chattering away.
“You’re so good at that,” Donovan said.
“At what? Being nice?”
“I’ve met a lot of well-known people who are not so generous with their adoring public.”
“Women like that are the reason I get to have my job. Plus, I can’t bring myself to be any other way. If the roles were reversed, I would want to be treated nicely.”
Ben appeared from behind a rack of sweatshirts. “Well, your Mom is at the register. She’s about to buy out the store, but there’s plenty of room in my suitcase, so I suppose it’s okay.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Lela said. “I’m starving. And not for chocolate.”
Outside in Times Square, there was the usual crush of people, and the most direct route to John’s was to wade through all of it until they could cut over on 44thStreet. As they navigated the crowd, Donovan had a strong urge to be protective of Lela, even when he knew she could take care of herself. And it wouldn’t be right to put his arm around her in front of her parents. It would only give her something to explain later.
They arrived at John’s to no line—a stroke of good luck. They were seated in one of the booths skirting the perimeter of the room, which gave them a modicum of privacy, and shielded out some of the noise, although John’s was always loud. They placed their orders—pepperoni and mushroom and two diet Cokes for Deb and Ben. Donovan and Lela went for the classic meatball and a bottle of red wine.
“You must be awfully proud of Lela,” Donovan said while they were waiting for their food.
She elbowed him in the ribs, reminding him how nice it was to sit close to her, even if she was annoyed with him. “We don’t need to talk about that.”
“Sure we do.” He turned and peered into her eyes. They traded playful glances, a wordless exchange that went something like:You’re a jerk. I know I am. Stop egging on my parents. Stop being so much fun to tease.
“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m proud,” Ben said.
“It’s all he talks about,” Deb said. “Lela this and Lela that. But he’s always been like that. A super involved dad.”
“You’ve got a real gem of a daughter, too, Donovan. Echo is a lovely woman. And so impressive. Holy smokes, I have a feeling she’s going to do a lot of big things.”
“I have no doubts about that,” Donovan replied, thankful once again to have such a good relationship with Echo.
Their pizzas arrived and Ben and Deb retold every minute of their trip, which Lela noted was mostly all of the same things they’d done the last time they were in the city. Ben had defended their choices by saying that life was too short to not spend time seeing the places and doing the things that you loved. Then the conversation shifted to music whenSuperstitionby Stevie Wonder became faintly detectable over the restaurant’s audio system and Ben declared that the seventies had been the greatest decade for music. Much debate ensued, with Donovan ultimately agreeing, with certain concessions.
Out on the sidewalk after their meal, the four walked over to Broadway so Ben and Deb could get back to their hotel.
“You guys know where you’re going, right?” Lela asked.
Ben pointed east. “Two blocks that way, two blocks up, south side of the street.”
“You got it,” Lela said.
