Page 125 of The Sweetest Devotion

Cain tucked his dice away and took another glance at my younger image. “Scrawny.”

“You’ll have to show me some time,” I said. I wondered if even younger him sported horns.

Cain studied me for a beat before going back into his jacket and coming up with his wallet.

“You carry an old photo in your wallet?” I teased.

“As I told you, a lot of my memories were lost along the way. What mattered I learned to keep close,” Cain was saying as he opened up the black leather wallet. In it, were two photos, one he was pulling out, and the other he managed to quickly shield from me.

Cain held out an old picture of a much younger him sitting on a park bench with a basketball beneath his skinny legs. In the photo he was sitting next to who I was assuming was Beans. They were laughing, Cain had a little fro, bright eyes, and a big toothy smile.

“You kept that,” I mumbled, unable to pretend I wasn’t touched.

Cain nodded as he put the picture back. “I’ve never had anyone, outside of my mother. Forming that friendship with Beans was lifesaving in a way. I moved from home to home, sometimes too far from him, but I kept the picture so that I wouldn’t forget what it was like to have a friend.”

No, Cain wasn’t so black and white, but gray.

“And what’s the other picture?” I wondered.

Cain took a step back. “Nothing.”

“Cain—”

“I can handle your jabs, but I won’t have you talk about her,” he warned with a firm shake of his head.

The other photo was of his mother.

I wasn’t the nicest to Cain, but even I knew there was a line. “I’d never…”

A chime went off between us.

Cain pulled his phone out and placed it back into his pocket. He looked over at my McDonald’s. “What’s with the food?”

“It’s, uh, a tradition. My dad and I eat McDonald’s whenever we watchComing to America. He gets a Big Mac meal and I eat fries with a Sprite. I haven’t seen my father and I figured it’d be nice.”

Cain reached out, his smooth hand caressing my cheek. “He’d like that, Kennedy.” He ran his thumb across my skin momentarily before stepping around me and taking off for the door. “I have to go. I’m having a piano delivered to my place.”

“You play?” My parents owned a piano in their living room, but it was more for show than actual use.

Cain shrugged indifferently. “Whenever I get in the mood.”

He liked jazz and could play the piano. Somehow, it fit him.

It wasn’t until he’d pulled the front door open that I realized something. “Where’s Beans and Vino?”

To that, Cain offered me a small smile. “I like your father. I don’t need to watch my back with him.” He tipped his head toward me. “Enjoy your movie, Wife.”

He was out the door and gone.

His guard was down. He trusted my father. He trusted my home. He trusted me.

Something like guilt had me swiping up my McDonald’s and heading up the steps. If I didn’t think about it, I wouldn’t second-guess myself. If I didn’t second-guess myself, I wouldn’t allow myself to feel sorry for Cain.

The door was open and my mother was inside my father’s room, adjusting his pillows and suppressing a smile down at him. His hand was on her hip and by the gleam in his eyes, I knew they were flirting.

Moments like this warmed me inside. To feel and see some sense of normal. To know that they could still be happy. That my father could still have this with the love of his life.

I cleared my throat, not wanting to let the food get any colder. “Don’t mean to interrupt.”

---