Page 7 of Healing Hearts
“My mom and Grady will be there, so yeah,” I say with a shrug.
“Amir will be happy that his playmate will be available.” She stares at her son with open affection. “He’s been asking me about a brother or sister lately.”
“What brought that on?” I ask.
“Victoria, I think. He likes feeling like he’s a ‘big brother’ and he asked me when he could be one.” Her lips twist and then she frowns.
“Do you want more kids?”
“Yeah,” she says without hesitation. “More than anything, but I just...I don’t know.” She sighs and crosses her arms. “Life’s all about timing.”
Part of me wants to dig a little deeper, but another part of me doesn’t want to think about her with anyone in that way. Picking her up every Saturday from her failed dates has become one of the highlights of my week, and I don’t want to consider how I’d feel if she stopped calling.
“You’ll get there,” I say, slinging my arm around her shoulders and kissing her on the temple. “You’re a great mom. The aliens watching over us directing traffic wouldn’t waste that skill set on only one child.”
She laughs and pokes me in the ribs again. “Please. Now the hot aliens are god-like?”
“They’ve got their eye on you and your voice-to-text skills. You can’t convince me otherwise.”
“Trent,” Amir calls from the marble run. “I need the screwdriver. It’s getting stuck here. We’ve gotta fix it.”
I grab the screwdriver off the bench and go over to crouch down beside him, where it appears the marbles are congregating.
“Let’s get ’er done, buddy,” I say, settling in beside him.
When I glance over at Emily, she’s watching us, affection coating her expression.
“Want to learn some new skills?” I ask her.
“Absolutely not,” she says, “but feel free to teach him so I can stop calling a handyman for every little thing.”
“Who are you kidding?” I ask. “You call me.”
“Exactly. My handyman.” She grins and then disappears back inside her house.
I watch the spot she was in for a beat before Amir tugs on my sleeve, drawing my focus back to him.
Chapter Four
Trent
Bruce finishes his brief tour of the shop and extends his hand. “I’d be pretty pleased to have Adrian’s son take over the business. I still think of him often.”
“Me too,” I say, accepting his hand.
“There’s just one thing,” Bruce says, rubbing the back of his head, “and I’m not too sure how to phrase it.”
I tense because I’m sure I know, and I’m tempted to assume, to make the transition easier for him.
“Not everyone in the town is going to be welcoming if you take over. I can’t guarantee the business I have is the same one you will.”
“That’d be true no matter who took over.” No one would run things exactly like Bruce, from pricing to service. Some people will always balk at change.
“Some won’t even giveyoua chance,” he says.
“If I can do this, I’ll throw my whole heart into it, and I might not win ’em all over, but I’ll get enough. I’m confident.” Or not at all confident, but I’m good at faking. False bravado works in almost any situation.
“People might even question where you got the money,” Bruce hedges.
