Goodbye to You (27 page)

“You’ll be fine. They don’t bite.” I squeeze his arm to reassure him. “Unlike me.”

“I like when you bite. And when you say those things, I can’t stop thinking about getting you naked later. That’ll be dirty in your childhood home.”

I grin at him as he cracks his neck and shakes his shoulders out. We walk up the sidewalk from his car, and he pauses.

I link my arm in his and pull him along. “Come on. Don’t be a big sissy.”

“Your dad, is he a large man? Does he own a gun?”

“No, and yes.” His eyes widen in terror, and he tries to turn around and walk back to the car. “He’ll only use the shotgun to scare you.”

“
That’s
reassuring.”

He has no reason to be nervous, but I’m quaking inside. I’m meeting Daddy’s new lady, and I’m having the private conversation with my family to tell them about my surgery. It’s in a few days. The time has flown.

I first met Shay about three months ago.

And here we are, at a family supper together.

Though technically, we had one of those with his mom after we knew each other for a few days.

Still the most embarrassing thing ever.

If Daddy had caught Shay in my room practically naked, the outcome would have been much different.

We mount the creaky stairs to the open front door, the fresh October breeze blowing in through the screen.

Shay holds the door open. I told him he’d get brownie points from Daddy if he caught Shay acting like a gentleman, which he already does without outside motivation.

“Hello? Daddy? Jen? We’re here.” Shay’s carrying the six-pack of beer we grabbed on the way, and I take the bottles from his shaking hands before he drops them.

“Baby, calm down.”

“This is a first for me. I’ve never ‘met’ anyone’s parents before. My first girlfriend, our families knew each other forever before we started dating freshman year of high school.”

“Follow my lead. Be normal.” He cracks his neck again. “And relax!”

He shakes his arms, trying to throw the tension off.

Daddy comes out from the kitchen and kisses me on the cheek, his whiskers rough on my skin. Like when I was little, his beard still tickles me, and I giggle like the baby girl I used to be.

He steps back, narrowing his eyes, and glares at Shay.

I slap Daddy on the arm. “Stop! He’s scared as hell, and you’re making it worse.”

Daddy bursts out in laughter and pumps Shay’s hand. “A pleasure, son. We’ve heard all about you.”

“G-good, I hope.” He glances at me, and I shrug.

“Of course, of course. Doesn’t mean I won’t interrogate you tonight. The ex-cop in me, son. Need to make sure you’re good enough for my baby.”

“I doubt it, sir, but who is good enough for her?”

My stomach clenches, in a good way. He’s more than good enough for me.

“An-T’s here! An-T’s here!” My niece and nephew, in all their four-year-old glory, wrap themselves around my legs and threaten to topple me with their exuberant hugs.

I kneel to their level and whisper, “Can you stand still long enough to say hi to someone special?”

Kyle stands straight and nods, fingers twitching and eyes rolling. A four-year-old can’t be perfectly still, but it’s good enough. I glance up at Shay, and the tenderness on his face leaves me breathless. I smile, and motion for him to join us.

He crouches, and I point at the kids. “This lovely lady is Josie, and this handsome fella is Kyle. Guys, this is my friend Shay.”

They both wave at him, and he shoots them a dazzling smile.

“Happy to meet the tiniest McBrides.” He winks at Josie. “The prettiness runs in the family. You’re a lovely little lass.”

My sweet niece buries her face in her hands and runs away. He’s so charming he makes even the littlest girls blush.

Kyle tugs on Shay’s sleeve. “What ‘bout me?”

Shay chuckles and eyes Kyle with consideration. “You? You’re a strapping lad. Strong enough to defend your auntie and mama and sister from monsters.”

“Yeah, monsters. Rawwwrrr!” Kyle darts off and goes after Josie, growling like a creature from the black lagoon.

We stand, and Shay rests his hand on the small of my back. My skin tingles through the thin fabric of my dress and light sweater. It’s a comforting touch, one meant to reassure me and help me through dinner, but it still warms me. It makes me think of him folding me in his arms and kissing me senseless.

“Thea!” Jen wanders out of the kitchen in her stained apron. Her hair’s coming back in, and the color is returning to her skin. Her eyes widen as her gaze scans Shay from the top of his carefully styled dark hair to the tips of his polished black shoes. “Hello. You must be the amazing guy my baby sister can’t stop talking about.”

Shay’s face reddens, but he shakes my sister’s outstretched hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Jen. Thea neglected to mention how gorgeous you are.”

Jen blushes, and I squeeze Shay’s arm in appreciation as she drops his hand and takes a hold of mine. “Come on, little sis. You must meet Marcy. She’s an extraordinary nurse and one heck of a cook to boot. You’ve got to try her mashed potatoes and homemade gravy. To die for!”

Jen leads, and I follow. Resistance is futile. When we get to the kitchen, a tall woman with coal-black hair and bright violet eyes works the pots on the stove top like a professional chef.

She’s striking. Very Elizabeth Taylor.

Way to go, Daddy.

I slip the beer into the fridge and turn back to the older woman.

“Marcy, meet Thea. Where did Daddy get to? He should be making introductions. Marcy, I was telling Thea about your spectacular cooking. She’s a hearty eater, so she will appreciate your efforts.”

“Wow, thanks, Jen. ‘Hearty eater.’ Is that the latest euphemism for ‘carrying a few extra pounds’?”

“Ooooh, touchy. No.” She steps back and assesses me. “You look fabulous. The gorgeous hunk of man-meat appears happy with all this.” She waves her hands at me.

“Um, thanks?”

“Yeah, sure. He agrees with you, too. You’re glowing. He must be a dynamo in the sack.”

My face burns, but Marcy smiles and shakes her head. Jen’s return to normalcy is complete, her interest in living vicariously through my sex life as inappropriate as ever.

I was so nervous all day I couldn’t eat, but now I want to feed my fear, guilt, and anxiety with a ton of carbs.

The warm scent of freshly-baked bread stokes my craving.

“Marcy, hi. It’s wonderful to see Daddy smiling again. I think you can take all the credit.”

“Maybe not
all
the credit.” She nods in Jen’s direction. “Jen back on her feet, and getting back to herself, is huge. You being happy helps, too.”

I gulp. I don’t want to stand around useless, and I need something to take my mind off the thing I must do tonight. “What can I do to help?”

Marcy nods at the family room. “We’re good here, right Jen? I think you may be better off rescuing your young man.”

I glance over my shoulder. Daddy’s talking non-stop. Shay nods and shakes his head, unable to get a word in.

I tip my head at Marcy. “I think you’re right. He’s gonna talk his ear right off, isn’t he? Then he’ll move on to showing off the television.”

The sound of cheering from a football game sweeps across the room, so
that’s
started. Poor Shay. He’s not a sports fan—that’s more his brother Liam’s thing—but he’ll tolerate the game if he thinks it’ll make Daddy happy.

Which will make me happy.

He is one unselfish man, and I remind myself again how I’m lucky I found him. Lucky he found me again here in North Carolina.

Fate, kismet, coincidence. Whatever you want to call it, it’s right.

He’s in for the long haul.

I am too.

“Son, Thea tells me you’re in medical school.” Burt’s fork pauses in midair as he waits for my answer.

“Yes, sir. First year.”

“What are you going to specialize in?”

I finish chewing my meatloaf, washing it down with a sip of water.

“Neuropsychiatry, sir. I started an internship with one of the physicians at the university hospital and studied psychobiology at Miami. I’m confident it’s the right choice for me.”

“Why? Out of all the specialties?” Burt shovels a forkful of mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth, waiting for my answer in silence.

“Daddy, can you let Shay eat in peace?”

“No, Thea. I don’t mind talking about it.” I set my fork on the table and consider my words. I’m not ashamed of my family’s history, but people can struggle with processing the situation.

Burt narrows his eyes at me again and waits for my answer.

“When I was a child, my mother died, and we later found out she was severely depressed, and it wasn’t an accident.” I decide not to say “suicide,” since the kids are still at the table. They’re not paying any attention to our conversation, but I don’t want to mention sensitive topics someone may need to explain later.

I take a deep breath and continue. “My little brother, Mac, has inherited some of those tendencies, and also has autism. I’m most interested in research. I’d like to help find more concrete biochemical and structural connections in mood disorders, as well as developmental disorders. Better treatments will follow from there.”

Burt continues to eat, but keeps his eyes on me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Thea squeezes my thigh under the table, and I smile weakly at her.

I want to impress her family, and while I think Jen likes me, the jury’s still out on her dad.

Burt scratches his chin and crosses his arms across his chest.

I hold my breath.

“Good to see a young man who knows what he wants. Has a plan. Kids these days are clueless about what to do when they get out of college. But you, son, and my Thea, you’ve got it all figured out. She’ll be a remarkable teacher, won’t she?”

I loop my arm around her shoulder and puff out my chest. “I think so sir.”

“Yes, speaking of,” Jen says to Thea, “Daddy says your student teaching is in place for spring. Is it nearby? You thinking about moving closer to home?”

“No, the job is fifteen minutes from my apartment. I-I need to talk to you and Daddy.” She glances over at Marcy. “In private.”

I lean in and kiss Thea on the cheek, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Dinner was amazing. Can I help clean?”

“I’d appreciate your help. Thanks, Shay.” Marcy stands and picks up dishes. I follow suit.

The twins trail behind us, sticking their plastic character plates in the bottom rack of the dishwasher before dragging their toy trucks and books around the kitchen floor. For four-year-olds, they’re surprisingly low-key. Liam and I were the opposite of calm. “Holy terrors,” I believe is what Da called us. Our nicknames, Rascal and Scamp, were well-earned.

Burt, Jen, and Thea move to the family room. Thea’s hands are clutched in her lap, and I hear the muffled sound of her voice in one long stream. I know what she’s saying, but I strain to hear how Jen and Burt respond.

Jen sobs and Thea cries too. I resist the urge to comfort her. She needs this time with her family to work through everything. Good or bad, this is their conversation, not mine.