Page 14 of Love Under Construction

Mom must be occupied at the moment because his reply is instant. He wouldn’t dare pick up his phone if she was near, Mom would have a coronary.

Jameson: I came home to see your dad, and check in on you.

Me: Why?

Jameson: Liv, we’ve grown up together. Your dad is a second father to me. You know that. And even though you hate me, I care about you. I always have.

Me: Who’s running the school build if you’re here?

Jameson: Christ, Liv. Your dad is dying. That can wait. Not that it matters. It’s Saturday. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in NY by Monday.

Okay. That was a little harsh on his part. I know I deserved it. He’s right. He has just as much of a right to be here as I do though. He and my dad are close, much to my dislike.

Me: You’re right. I’m sorry. It can wait. There’s just a lot going on right now, and I’m...damnit…Jameson. My dad’s dying.

A lone tear runs down my face.

Jameson: I know, Liv. I know. And I’m so damn sorry.

Me: What did you do with Peaches?

Jameson: She’s with Harley. They’ve bonded. PS. Mom alert, she’s coming up the steps. To be continued…

I quickly toss my phone under my pillow like a teenager and run into the bathroom to turn on the shower. I’m staring at my reflection as my mom knocks and walks in with a cup of coffee, orange juice and a light breakfast on a tray.

“Honey,” she frowns. “I know this is going to be hard on you, but please remember, there will be lots of people around the next few weeks. We must look our best. I know your luggage hasn’t arrived yet, so I grabbed you some clothes from my closet to make do for now. We can go shopping later.”

It’s a split second decision to bit my tongue or let loose. This time, I keep my words to myself. How in the world can she possibly worry with appearances when my dad is withering away?

“Thank you for breakfast. I’ll be down soon,” I do my best to dismiss her subtly. Thankfully, she takes the hint and leaves me to it with a pat on my shoulder.

In the shower, I do my best to try and wash all of the hurt and sadness away. It doesn’t work, but I’m a little more awake by the time I finish. Slipping into my mother’s clothes feels like a coat of armor, a disguise, to hide behind.

Chapter 8

Jameson

“Jay,”Mr. Hawthorne whispers my name as the ladies head into the kitchen. “Let’s talk.”

It’s Sunday afternoon, and we’ve all done our part to get Liv’s dad settled back at home. He’s looking comfortable on the couch, watching baseball, with the oxygen on that hospice sent. Truthfully, I’m surprised Liv, and Mrs. H have left him alone for even a moment, but I guess after he snapped at both of them, they had no choice except to give him some space.

Taking a seat in the chair to the left of him, I cross my legs. “What’s on your mind, Sir?”

“Ah, none of that bullshit,” he coughs, and Mrs. H comes running. “Dehlia, I’m fine. Get. And let the men talk.”

She retreats again while he mumbles to himself before turning back to me.

“We need to talk about my daughter.”

I swallow hard. “What about Liv? I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here, even after…” My voice trails off, and I do my best to fight back the lump in my throat.

“I do not doubt that,” He pushes the prongs of the cannula back in his nose and takes a breath. “That’s exactly what we need to discuss. I want you to know that you have my blessing to marry her.”

My eyes widen, and I nearly choke on the air in the room. “Mr. Hawthorne…”

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “You think she hates you. She thinks she does too, but I know my girl. And after all, this is said and done; she’s going to realize what’s been right in front of her the whole time. When she does, I want you to man up and claim her, the way I know you’ve wanted to for years.”

“Mr. H, Pops…I...I don’t see that happening,” I laugh nervously. “I do promise to interrogate the hell out of any man she does think is worthy though.”

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