Page 87 of The Best Kind of Bad

“Dad, this is Dusty. I was telling you about him last time.”

The idea that she was talking to him about me sends a grateful rush through me. I stride forward, offering my hand. He shakes it. His grip is warm and firm. He smiles up at me. “I’m Thomas.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Sir?” He looks at Marnie and nods. “I like this guy already.”

“I figured you would.” Marnie sits on the edge of his bed. “He charms everyone he meets.”

Thomas starts asking Marnie about the farm, about the last wedding she did. I wander closer to the dresser by the door, looking at the gallery of family photos there.

There’s a picture of Thomas and Naomi when they were younger. They’re at a carnival or fair, arms around each other, glowing.

There’s a picture of baby Marnie. She’s covered in frosting and looking pleased as can be with herself.

The three of them, their complete little family, on a hiking trip in the mountains.

It’s Thomas’s life in a nutshell.

It makes me wonder, at the end, what would my picture gallery look like?

Thomas may not reach an old age, but he had a loving wife and a beautiful daughter.

What more could you ask for?

57.

Marnie

I’ve had memorable years in my life.

Age seven was bananas.

I’ve never been more alive than when I was sixteen.

And don’t get me started on twenty-one.

But thirty-five? I’d rather just do thirty-four again.

Fertility nose-dives at thirty-five. I would know. I’ve kept a wary eye on that number for a few years now. My chances at a family have slowly been drifting away.

And then, there’s the fact that the energetic, beautiful, sweet man I’m dating is now officially a decade younger than me.

He’d be absolutely perfect if it weren’t for his age.

If it weren’t formyage.

It doesn’t seem to bother Dusty as much as it bothers me. He pulls a chair up next to my dad’s bed and lounges back like we’re not in a nursing home. Like my dad isn’t reclining in a hospital bed.

He’s put a bit of life back in my dad. His eyes are snapping with some of that old mischief, the stuff I haven’t seen for a few months now. “Marnie doesn’t bring many men around. You must be special.”

Ah. There it is. That’s why dad’s looking rascally. He’s going to embarrass me.

Dusty’s gaze flicks to mine. He can’t quite keep the smug look out of his eyes. “I made her drag me along.”

Not true, but good deflection. Points in Dusty’s favor.

Dad narrows his eyes. “Not to visit her old man, I hope.”

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