Page 2 of Just Say Yes

When I reached his room, I gently knocked and cracked the door open. “Mr. Brown? It’s MJ.”

He pulled the door open and beamed at me. Arthur was in his mid-eighties, short, and his shoulders stooped and rounded slightly. Despite his age, his eyes were bright and his smile was wide. His attention never left my face, and my heart swelled.

Old men are so much better than the ones my age.

“You are a vision, my dear.” He shuffled his feet and moved to allow me to enter.

Like much of Haven Pines, each room was carefully planned to look less like a hospital and more like a studio apartment. The rooms were small, but each had a bed, side table with two chairs, and a comfy wingback for reading books or relaxing by the tall window.

On the side table, Arthur had arranged a round tablecloth, two place settings, and a pair of chairs. I had expected this, because it was me who had convinced the maintenance staff to have it set up for him.

“Come in. Come in.” Arthur gestured toward the table with a smile.

“This is lovely, Mr. Brown.” I smiled and walked toward the table. “Thank you.”

“Please, call me Arthur.” Arthur hurried behind me and scooted out a chair. “Allow me.”

I obeyed and tucked myself under the small circular table. Arthur made his way to his side and sat down. His eyes twinkled as the papery wrinkles around his eyes deepened. Low music crooned from a bedside radio.

“How about we eat?” Arthur smiled again and removed the plastic lids from our dinner plates. It was the same Wednesday night supper that was on rotation at Haven Pines—marinated and grilled chicken breast, garlicky steamed green beans, and a dinner roll.

“You’re awfully kind, humoring a lonely old man like me,” Arthur said.

I looked across the small table at my dinner companion. I was so young when my grandfather passed away that I barely remembered him. My father, Russell King, had also been a difficult man—always controlling and emotionally absent. I had been happy to fly under his radar most of the time.

My father was awaiting trial for the murder of my mother, and suddenly my entire life felt like one big lie.

Yeah ... this year had been alotto unpack.

From the outside, I appeared strong and steady, but deep down I was aimless and floundering.

Maybe that was why I felt so at ease with the elderly residents of Haven Pines. Maybe on some level they served as the warm and loving grandparents I never had the opportunity to know.

I unrolled the paper napkin and placed it on my lap. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Arthur did the same, placing his napkin across his knees. When it slipped off and hit the floor, he struggled to scoot his chair backward.

“I’ve got it.” I smiled and inched my chair out to retrieve his napkin. The space between the table and chair was small and dark. The constricting fabric of my regrettable dress made moving even harder. I stifled a grunt and tried to tug at my hemline while reaching for the napkin.

“Hang on,” I said. “It slid all the way under the table.” Unsure how I was going to manage, I finally gave up on being ladylike and dropped to my knees. On all fours, I scooted under the table and snatched the white cloth napkin.

“What the hell is this?” A deep, rumbling voice startled me.

My head whipped up, cracking against the underside of the table. “Ow,fuck!”

With one hand on the back of my head and the other bracing myself on the armrest of Arthur’s chair, I looked up.

A man filled the doorway—not just with his size, but with a presence that was impossible to ignore, like a storm rolling in off the lake. My jaw dropped. He was tall—impressively so—with thick arms that crossed his chest. His wide stance showed off the thickest thighs I’d ever seen in real life.

Helloooo, stranger.

Even in the gross fluorescent lighting, he was undeniably handsome. His dark hair fell over his forehead, dipping down to dark eyebrows that cinched tight. His face was chiseled, and he had a mustache that stood out a little thicker than the rest of his scruff.

His mouth was set in a hard line.

The doorframe suddenly felt too small to contain him.

My attention bounced from the mystery man to Arthur and back again. I was on my knees, in front of Arthur, with my dress slipping precariously up my thighs. With Arthur’s back to the door, I could only imagine what it looked like I was doing on my knees in front of him.

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