Page 78 of Where You Left Me

Jones

Helping another man get dressed was not something I expected to do today, or literary ever. But as I do up the bottom two buttons on Mr. Cappella’s Polo shirt, a sense of pride washes over me. I try not to let it go to my head that he asked for me to assist him today. I’m sure it has less to do with him forgiving me and has more to do with the fact that he and I have been hosting this event together for five years.

The names listed under event coordinators might be Jones Martin and Mia Cappella, but everyone knows who’s behind the heart and soul of the event. Mr. C. is the reason this year most of the planning and sponsorship and local vendors went so easily. No one is doing it out of loyalty to me. Okay, maybe other than Rosie. They’re doing it for Mr. C and out of respect for him. It’s made my and Mia’s job a whole heck of a lot easier.

Tonight is drinks and appetizers at The Pines for anyone who is participating in Bikes and Beers tomorrow. It’s typically a causal event, but something tells me this year we’ll have a bigger turnout. The entire town wants to support Mr. Cappella.

“Jones,” Mr. C. chokes out.

My fingers fumble on the buttons that I’ve somehow done up to his thick neck without realizing it.

“Shoot. Sorry.” I hurry to undo the button. “Better?”

He nods.

“All right, let’s get you up so you can see yourself in the mirror.” Hooking my arms underneath his, I hoist him out of the wheelchair.

Mr. C. can stand on his own. He can even walk a little now too. But the wheelchair is a precaution. It’s there when he might need it. To catch him or on a tired day. It’s like a safety net.

My mind shifts to Mia. My brain making the connection between her and a safety net.Mysafety net. But this rattles me, making my movements sporadic and my nerves chaotic. Because I guess deep down, I know that safety net could be gone, pulled out from beneath me. And I’m terrified of the dangerous fall.

Mr. C. puts his hands on his hips as he studies his reflection.

I blow out a whistle. “Looking pretty dang sharp, Mr. C. Look at you, you stud. You’re gonna drive the Mrs. crazy.”

He waves me off, but his face has deepened to a shade of red I’ve never soon on him before.

“This-s-s…is-s-s…nothing. L-look at…you.”

“Aw shucks, Mr. C.” I chuckle.

“No really. It’s-s-s no wonder my daughter…has a…thing for y-you.”

My heart jumps in my chest. Mr. Cappella and I don’t talk about Mia. We never discussed it, but it was an unspoken rule that Mia was an off-limits topic of conversation. My eyes go wide while I wait in anticipation of what he might say.

He clears his throat. “Jones, we never blamed you.” His speech is taking less effort the more he talks.

And at his words, my shoulders ease and years of guilt begin to melt off me. Tears spring up and I drop my chin to hide my emotion.

“Mia told us your plans…to s-s-stick beside her. And that you loved the b-b-baby.”

“I did. I do,” I correct because shit, I’ll never stop loving the baby. She’ll always be a part of me. “And Mr. C., if it isn’t obvious by now, I love your daughter. I never stopped loving her. I’d spend the rest of my life with her if she’d have me.”

He pats me on the back. “Any wo-wo-woman would be lucky to h-h-have you. Including Mia. You’re a good man, Jones.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, how’re you g-g-gonna figure out a way for me to ride a bike today?”

I chuckle, grateful for the comedic relief, until I catch the serious expression on his face, and I realize he isn’t joking. “We’ll figure out something.”

My timewith Mia is coming to an end. Summer is officially over after Bikes and Beers concludes tomorrow. And even though we haven’t discussed the details, I know she’ll be leaving soon after.

I hoped to spend this evening with her but instead, I’m in my garage welding together a device I built to attach to Mr. C’s bike. I made up an excuse that I had last-minute event shit to handle and told her I’d be in my garage until late so she should sleep at her place tonight. Lying to Mia isn’t something I want to get used to, but if this part doesn’t work, the last thing I want to do is get her hopes up.

After watching some YouTube videos, reading some blogs, and asking Maverick to make a late-night delivery from the hardware store, I designed a part I’m optimistic will work.

The sound of a vehicle crushing the gravel in the alley has me on high alert. I take off the welding mask and my shoulders relax when Maverick’s Jeep parks out front.

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