“Dad!” Grey shouts as he catches the ball. He runs toward me with a big smile. That right there makes all this worth it. If he’s happy, so am I.
“Hey, bud, how was camp?”
“It was great. I learned some new moves today.”
He jumps into the air and then pretends to kick me while I fake how hard he hit me.
“You’ll have to show them to me later,” I say, ruffling his hair.
He swats my hand away.
“After we eat,” he says and pushes through the door. “We were waiting for you, and I’m starrrrving.”
He disappears into the kitchen just as Greer steps onto the patio.
“What was your favorite scene to write today?”
She pauses in front of me as if she’s genuinely interested in what I did today. Her eyes focus on mine as she waits for a reply.
Outside of my agent and the guys, I can’t remember the last time someone asked me about my writing. My family used to ask me. I know they care, but maybe they think that after so many books, I’m less excited about a new one. Which, of course, is never the case. Readers, sure, they ask about the next book, but something about the way Greer asked this simplest question—it’s different.
“Was that too personal? I know writers like to keep things private till a book is finished. I hope I didn’t overstep. I just think it’s really cool that you?—”
“No, that’s not it. It just threw me off that that was the first topic you chose to discuss.”
“Oh.” She looks into the kitchen and then back at me as if she isn’t sure she’ll keep standing here. “Still, just tell me if you’d rather not talk about it.”
“Okay.”
That’s all I can say. Of all the words in the world,okayis the one I chose to go with.
“Okay,” she repeats and then steps into the kitchen.
What did I expect? For her to stand there and wait for me to think of something to say?
“Finally,” Grey says. He’s unwrapping a dish with some type of salad in it. He’s already pulled plates and silverware and napkins and placed them on the table.
I notice it right away: three spots.
Greer must notice at the same time.
“Oh, that’s so sweet, Grey, but I’m not staying for dinner.”
“What? Why not? You cooked all this food.”
He’s not wrong. I know what her role is and so does she, but it never occurred to me that she’d be cooking our dinner just to go home and cook her own. It would make sense for her to stay and eat with us.
She nods and casts a quick glance in my direction before she looks back at Grey.
“Yes, but my job is done now, and I have food at home waiting for me.”
Grey’s face says exactly what I’m thinking. The thing is, I’m not sure why I’m so bothered by it. Greer has never eaten dinner with us outside of that one dinner to discuss Grey’s meal plans.
“You should stay,” I blurt out without thinking.
“Yeah!” Grey chimes in.
Greer looks between us, her hair shining from the early evening sun beaming through the window and her eyes lighting up as she smiles.
