Page 47 of Kiss the Girl
“I’m pleased to hear that,” Dr. Boone said. “I see my next appointment out there, but this was an enlightening conversation, Coach Redmond. Thanks for stopping in.”
“Glad to shed some light,” I said. Which was an interesting way to say “lie my face off.” I needed to go figure out how to balance the scales before karma came for me hard.
I’d have to start by coming clean to Grace, which felt like possible karma, because there was a good chance she would kill me.
Chapter Fifteen
Grace
Noah would be dropping off Paige at work right about now and heading over here to get everything ready for the boys, so I spent too long fixing my ponytail and applying lip gloss for a morning of construction.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said to my reflection. But I tightened my ponytail again anyway and went outside to my dad’s workshop.
My parents lived on two acres—cheap land being one of the perks of small-town living—and the workshop behind the house was a cross between a large shed and a small barn. When my dad had been healthy, it wasn’t unusual to find him back here on a Sunday afternoon with an entire Boy Scout troop doing a woodworking merit badge.
I tried to focus on how having the yard full of boys would make it feel more like normal, one more step to my dad getting back into the swing of things. One more step for me getting back to my own life.
Evie would need her own work space so she didn’t get underfoot with the team. I pulled out my old kid workbench just like the ones we kept at the store for Builder Buddy workshops. We’d grown up working at this bench next to my dad, who’d been saving it for grandkids neither Tab nor I were in a hurry to provide.
I was looking for extra hammers when Noah’s Honda pulled in. Noah got out to unbuckle Evie from her car seat.
“Hi, Toodles!” she yelled.
“Hey, Evie,” I called back.
Soon I had Evie settled at her workbench with paper and crayons so she could make her own “plans.” She chattered and asked me lots of questions, which I tried to answer, but she had to repeat herself a few times when my mind wandered to the impending conversation with my parents about Tabitha canceling for Thanksgiving. I’d decided to make them a nice dinner tonight and break it to them then.
“Everything okay?” Noah asked, and I realized I’d missed something he’d said.
“Sure, it’s fine.” Except for stupid Thanksgiving being ruined.
“You don’t seem fine. Is this a bad time? Should we reschedule?”
“No, it really is okay.” I gestured for him to follow me to the work shed while I unlocked it. “My sister called to tell me she’s not coming home for Thanksgiving, and that won’t go over well with my parents. I’m in a mood, that’s all. I’ll be fine when the boys get here.”
“Ah. That sucks.” He looked as if he might reach out to lay a hand on my shoulder, but he paused and ran it through his hair instead.
I clapped my hand over my mouth. “I wasn’t even thinking, Noah. I’m annoyed she’s not coming home, and you don’t even have…”Parents. How could I be so insensitive?
Noah shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Paige and I are used to being orphans.”
He said it without a trace of self-pity, but it was hard to believe it didn’t hurt on some level.Way to go, Grace.
Like he was reading my mind, he smiled and said, “Seriously, vent if you want. I’m a good listener.” He climbed onto the picnic table we used every Fourth of July and patted the spot next to him. “Is this a situation where your parents are going to be majorly depressed? Or only a little bummed? Will this cause drama?”
I hesitated, not sure if I would make it better or worse by getting into it. Would I make him feel more awkward if I changed the subject? He was looking at me with the same genuine interest he’d shown when he’d wanted to know about my life before Creekville, so I took him at his word and sat on the table beside him.
“My dad will be bummed, but he’ll get over it. My mom will be the problem.”
“Why?”
“She’ll see it as a failure of her parenting that Tabitha didn’t prioritize coming home.”
He didn’t say anything, just waited for the rest of the story.
“My mom was the super ambitious type. She wanted to be a museum curator but got pregnant with Tabitha right before she graduated in art history, and she never applied to grad school. But she wasn’t going to waste all her brains and energy, so we became her career.”
“She sounds…devoted?” Noah was clearly struggling to see how any of this was a bad thing.
