Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Turns out, I’ve got lots of minutes to give.
A whole afternoon of them.
It’s while helping me figure out a bowtie—I’ve never tied one in my damned life—when she says, “You and Wyatt gettin’ along?”
I’m already a hair away from losing my mind from all of this close proximity with this woman I just met. And now she goes and brings up Wyatt?
“I’m only askin’ because you two sure hit it off as kids.”
My eyes go blank.
What’d she just say …?
“He’s always been a nice boy,” she goes on. “Too good for this world, I always said. I was friends with his mama, too—Shelley. We all went to school together, all of us grew up together. Nadine, too, whose younger son Jimmy is my son-in-law. Bobby’s dance partner. Did Wyatt give you the scoop on who’s who? Do you already know this stuff? Just tell me to shush it and I’ll quit blabberin’.”
We hit it off as kids …?
“Why do you look funny?” She stops tying the tie and steps back. “Do you not remember? You and little Wy-Wy? Oh. Well, it was probably just once or twice you two were playing together in the yard, to be fair. Thirty-odd years ago. Both of you were single digits. It was so long ago. The two of you were makin’ up games so fast, it would not have surprised me to hear if you two were still in touch. But …” She shrugs. “Never mind. I talk too much. Since my Bobs moved out to be with his hubby, I just chew off the ears of any young man I’m left around, can’t save myself.” She finishes the tie, then smiles. “It does make me smile to see you two reconnected. All these years later. Saw you two tinkerin’ outside with that car in your driveway the other day, passin’ by on my way to Bonnie’s …”
It’s difficult to keep up with her.
I’m still stuck on the idea of Wyatt and I playing in a yard as kids. Making up games. Hitting it off.
I don’t have many good memories of my childhood.
It annoys me instantly that I remember none of this.
Shouldn’t I have happy things to look back on, too, instead of all the bad shit?
Thinking of Wyatt like some kind of light I’m trying to fish out of the dark pisses me off more than it should.
I don’t know when she stopped talking, but the woman steps back and takes me in with a long, happy sigh. “Lottie would be so proud,” she says under her breath. Then her eyes light up. “Could I snap a pic and send it to her? It’ll break her heart. I can’t wait.” I guess something shows on my face because she quickly shakes her head, mutters half to herself, “Never mind, I’m silly,” then brushes off my shoulders and says, “You’re ready, sweet darlin’.”
I almost ask, ready for what?
But a few hours later, I’m back home, standing in front of a mirror in the dining room, hair freshly combed, beard trimmed short and cleaned up, and I just flicked on a light because the sun started edging down the sky.
That’s when the doorbell rings.
I take a breath, tell myself I’m ready to face this ball, and go to the door.
Screw being ready to face the ball.
I wasn’t ready to face what’s at my door.
Wyatt.
Christ.
He’s wearing blue. Not flower-shop blue—a rich, deeper blue. Some fitted jacket. His cutely messy hair behaving for once. Eyes sparkling through all of that. Faint smile curling his lips.
The guy really cleans up.
Shit.
“Wow,” whispers Wyatt, who’s done a onceover of his own.
I perk my chest up. “Why’re you so surprised?”
His smile deepens, almost turning into a laugh. “No, no, I’m not. I …” He shrugs. “Actually, I am. You look … stunning, Diego. I wasn’t sure if you had an outfit for tonight. It didn’t even occur to me to ask until just a few hours ago while I was setting up at the McPhersons’, and I thought to call you, then realized we still don’t have each other’s numbers, and then—”
“Had some help,” I cut in. He looks at me, startled. “Patty. The woman from down the street.”
It takes him a second. “Oh. P-Patricia, you mean? Mrs. Parker? Oh …” That only seems to give him more questions.
Suddenly I notice the flower on his lapel. A small pink burst of color in the sea of blue.
Part of his collar is off.
I reach out without thinking. Adjust it. Then realize the other side’s crooked now because I tugged too hard. Now I’m fixing both sides of his collar with my hands framing his face.
Then suddenly our eyes meet.
I stop.
How I reached for him was so quick. So natural. Barely gave it a second thought.
I let go at once. “Flower’s a nice touch,” I mumble. “Like it.”