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Misty grinned. “I believe his name is Reg.”

I flipped her off behind Mom’s back.

Misty threw her head back and guffawed, a deep throaty laughter that made her eyes crinkle merrily.

She looked amazing. Her hair was shiny and pretty, and her jeans didn’t hang from her hips anymore. And she smiled often.

Especially at Emmett. She was serious this time. She’d moved out of the halfway house and into an apartment with a friend from the program. She had a pull-out sofa for Emmett and according to him, it was super cool ’cause he could watch cartoons in bed if he wanted.

She’d made a huge effort, and it was paying off with dividends.

“He likes pickles now, but cucumbers are the devil,” she’d declared with mock dismay. “And apparently, it’s okay to take the crust off if it’s wheat bread. Oh, and did you know that Transformers are cool again?”

I’d shrugged as if it were all news to me. But man, I was happy for her and cautiously optimistic that this was the beginning of real change.

And I supposed it was a good sign that Misty was in big sister mode, teasing me like she used to when we were kids.

“Reg and I are friends,” I huffed, flicking the top on the soda.

“Best friends,” Emmett piped in, skipping into the kitchen, his wily bangs drooping across his forehead. “Rhys and Gretchen gave me sidewalk chalk for Christmas. Hey, can I have a soda too?”

“No, siree, buddy,” Misty replied. “You’ve reached your sugar max for the day. How ’bout if we work on your new Spider-Man puzzle, huh?”

Emmett opened his mouth, but Misty didn’t give him a chance to push back. She tousled his hair, kissed the top of his head and led him into the living room…as if she’d been doing it for years.

Mom stared after them and widened her eyes. “She’s comin’ along, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Mom crossed her heart as if sending a prayer to the heavens, then slid her gaze my way. “Maybe now you can think more about the handsome policeman and less about us. Tell me about him.”

“Oh, my God. No.”

My mother cajoled, and I retaliated by tickling her till she shrieked and chased me out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon in her hand. We all laughed and ended up spending the rest of the night hunkered over the coffee table, fitting puzzle pieces together with Home Alone playing in the background. It was sweet, and it felt easier than it had in years to be together under one roof.

But I wasn’t planning on sharing Reg with my family. I hadn’t brought anyone home in twenty years. A lot had happened in those decades. We weren’t the same people.

Sometimes I struggled to figure out what that meant.

CHAPTER 28

REG

“Your father is responding to the medication well and he seems to enjoy the woodworking. He told me about his projects and someone he refers to as the mountain man. Is this a friend of his?”

My mother twisted a tissue between her fingers. She nodded, signaling for me to act as spokesperson for the family.

“Yeah, that’s Waylon. He’s been good to my dad and um…our family. Dad and Waylon have been working on a new coffee table for me. It’s almost finished.”

I didn’t add that it was uncanny to walk into my kitchen and see my father and my lover at the island, planning their design, organizing supplies they’d bought at Mill Depot. Or with their heads bent over an orbital sander while they discussed wood grain and polish in my garage.

The coffee table they’d started in December was almost done now. Viggo had helped them with the finishing or had barked out instructions with his infant son, Thoren, strapped to his chest in a BabyBjörn. They planned to make new end tables next, and maybe a console table for the entry. My contribution had been to put away the boxes of ornaments and holiday shit that usually hung around till February. Otherwise, I stayed out of the way.

I was busy with work and kid stuff. JV football season had bled into a winter hockey league for Rhys, and Gretchen was immersed in Science Club. She was also back to helping Dex concoct new flavors at the donut shop on Wednesday afternoons. His and Viggo’s three-year-old daughter, Annika helped sometimes, too. Anni adored Gretchen, and her enthusiastic adoration was good for Gretchen’s fragile preteen ego.

My normally gregarious son had gone quiet lately. He insisted he was fine, but I had a feeling something had happened with Kelsey. Either she was seeing someone else, or she was ignoring him…I didn’t know.

“You’re his father. Ask him,” Jess had urged. “He’ll talk to you.”