“If we are being transparent here, sir, I plan to marry your daughter. She is my future.”
He nods. “She thinks I don’t know about my memory problems. Will tells me, though. I know I am not always me. I hate it, but if it makes her feel better to pretend, then we pretend. You take care of my girl. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
Before he can say anything else, Lyla comes back with several games.
She sets up the first game, all three of us getting really into it. For the next several hours we play and laugh. It is one of the best nights of my life. It’s what I always felt like I was missing as a child.
It breaks my heart for Lyla. She has this now, but not all the time. I hate that she always has to wonder when she will lose him again.
“What are you guys still doing up?” Will asks when he comes home around three in the morning. “Dad, you need to get to bed.”
“Don’t be such a killjoy, Will.”
The sternness is ruined by Jerry yawning.
“I guess I should go to bed,” he admits reluctantly. “This was fun. Lyla walk Wyatt out.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she tells him, standing to hug him before he heads down the hall.
“I’ll make sure he’s okay. Has he been himself all night?” Will asks.
Lyla beams. “Yes. I know I should have insisted he go to bed, but it was like when we were kids. It was selfish.”
“No, Lyla. It wasn’t. I would have done the same thing. I’m glad you got it with him. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“I know. Me too. I have good news for you, by the way. We can talk after you get him in bed and I see Wyatt off,” she tells him.
“Okay. Bye, Wyatt. Get home safe.”
He heads down the hall as Lyla slides her hand in mine.
“Thank you for tonight,” she tells me as she leads me to the door.
“There’s no need to thank me for being here,” I whisper.
“This is supposed to be fake. You didn’t sign up for all of this.”
I smirk. “This might not be conventional, but I would like to think we are more than strangers. Maybe even friends if that’s what you want to call it.”
She nods. “Friends is a good place to start.”
I hum, turning to cup her cheek. “Start. I like that word. It means there will be more.”
Leaning in, I press a chaste kiss to her lips.
“More?” she asks softly when she pulls back.
“It’s all up to you, Lyla. You are leading the train. You only have to tell it where to stop.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility,” she admits.
“Hey.” I pull her face up until her eyes meet mine. “No. No pressure. No responsibility. You have enough of that. We go with the flow. Whatever happens, happens. Does that work for you?”
Relief fills her face. “Yeah, it does.”
