Page 42 of A Cure for Recovery

“Uh…” Tommy drawls.

Noah snorts. “Yeah, that means a lot coming fromyou.”

“Okay,” Lawson says, unfazed, “it was for me. But you guys don’t have to get married, if it doesn’t feel right. But you bought the ring, so I think that’s a strong sign you want to get married. Just ask her, man. I think she’ll say yes. But if she doesn’t, that doesn’t mean you have to break up. And,” he says, holding up a finger when Noah starts to protest, “I really do mean ask. Have a conversation. Don’t, like, hire a skywriter or do it on the Knicks Jumbotron or whatever.”

“You think Natalia likes basketball?”

“I think you need to talk to your girlfriend,” Lawson shoots back, and grins.

“Law,” Tommy says, and manages to maintain a falsely patient tone. He scratches at the back of Lawson’s neck in the way he knows he likes. “How was the meeting?”

Now Noah grins. “I can’t believe you made it this long without asking. You’re vibrating out of your skin.”

Lawson turns to him slowly, and blinks. “My meeting?”

“Lawson.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, okay. It went well.” His cheeks pink, and he smiles, small, almost hesitant, but deeply pleased. “Actually, it went really well.”

Tommy’s hand is still at the back of his neck, and he cups the width of it and squeezes. “How well?” His pulse is juddering, and he can hear the unsteadiness of his next breath.

Lawson’s grin widens. “I signed Keith as my agent. He’s already shown the book to a friend at Doubleday. He wants to know if I can go in tomorrow and maybe sign a publishing contract.”

“That’s–” A high whine starts up in Tommy’s ears. Blood pressure, he thinks, absently. “That’s fast, right? Is it fast?”

“Yeah. But Keith says his friend’s been looking for something just like it, and he’s excited about it, so I think sometimes–” He stops talking when Tommy grips his face in both hands.

“Does this mean you’re getting published?” Tommy asks, breathless and not caring.

Lawson smiles Tommy’s favorite smile, eyes scrunching, lips spread so wide his cheeks get smushed between Tommy’s hands. “Yeah. I’m getting published.”

Tommy doesn’t breathe for a second, and then, when he does, it’s to make a wild, wordless whoop that startles the people behind Noah, and which makes Lawson laugh. Then he hauls him down and kisses him, hard and smacking.Mwuah, like a cartoon character. Then he flings both arms around his neck and hugs him as tight as he can. He might be crying; he doesn’t know or care.

“I’m so proud of you. Oh my God, I’m so proud of you.”

Lawson hums and hugs him back.

“Ugh, you guys are gross,” Noah complains, but when Tommy finally lifts his head and glances his way, Noah’s expression is nothing but soft fondness.

11

Tommy’s been a Granger instead of a Katz or a Cattaneo for a year, and sometimes he forgets that hasn’t been his name forever. It rolls right off his tongue at the post office, at the bank, on the phone with customers. “This is Tom Granger.” When he sees the name printed on the mailbox, he thinksthat’s me. I’m a Granger. I’m part of the Granger family.

And it’s in the Granger family backyard that he and Dana are stringing up fairy lights on tall metal poles to spruce up the new brick patio where a fire pit has pride of place. Dana brought candles in mason jars that she hung in the surrounding trees, and Lisa picked out Adirondak chairs and cushions at Walmart a few weeks ago. A dry-rubbed pork shoulder’s been smoking in the green egg-shaped grill on the deck for hours, and the smell of it wafts across the yard and makes Tommy’s stomach rumble. The air is cool, this late into October, but the bonfire is warm, and they already have hot dogs and s’more ingredients spread out on the table beside it.

“Time?” Dana calls.

Tommy checks his watch, craning his neck so he doesn’t have to let go of the base of the ladder to do so. “Six-fifteen.”

“Okay, cool. Coming down.”

The ladder’s not exactly stable, so Tommy grips it tight while she scurries down, relieved when she lands on the grass in one piece.

“Done with this?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He knocks the spacers loose and folds it up. His cane is standing by, waiting, and he’ll need to lean on it, but he knows he can manage carrying the ladder back to the garage because he carried it out here, and didn’t stumble once.

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