Page 27 of My Merry Mistake
I let out a breath. “How’d you convince Momma to give you a shot?”
He shrugs. “I’m pretty irresistible, Skip.”
I chuckle to myself. “Does Momma know that?”
He laughs lightly, then takes a sip from that same old, cream-colored coffee mug he’s been using since I was a kid. “When we met, your momma wouldn’t give me the time of day.” He leans back and shakes his head. “She’s so stubborn she couldn’t see a good thing—the best thing—right in front of her face.”
He pauses, and I pause with him, then crack, “Oh! You mean you! Got it. Go on.”
He quirks a brow, mock-unamused. This is the relationship we’ve got—a healthy dose of banter mixed with the utmost respect.
I wish every kid had a dad like mine.
“To her, I was just a stupid neighbor kid who used to tip her daddy’s cows when he wasn’t lookin’.”
I muse. “Can’t imagine why that didn’t make her fall in love at first sight.”
He exhales softly, lost in a memory for a moment.
“So, how’d you show her you . . . you know. You grew up?” I ask.
“Not sure I did,” he says. “Not till later anyway. She helped with that. We’re a team that way.”
In the best sense of the word.
“I did get my act together, though.” He takes a drink, then looks at me. “Had to if I was ever going to get your momma to look twice in my direction.” He leans back in the chair. “And I didn’t quit. I was determined to win her over. Kept finding ways t’ be around her. Anything to remind her that I was put on this earth to admire her.”
“You’re such a sap,” I say, shaking my head.
“There’s nothing like the love of a good woman, son.” He leans in. “And your momma is a good woman.”
I know exactly what he’s insinuating, and he’s been doing it to embarrass us kids since I was a teenager. “Dad. Too much information, seriously.”
He lets out a single, hearty laugh.
“Now listen, Skip.” He turns a bit more serious. “I kid around sometimes, but your momma is the best thing that’s happened to me. Put aside how she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and how most days I can’t go but five minutes without thinking about her—she’s stubborn, driven, but has a heart big enough for all of us in this house.”
I go still. I could say the same about Raya. On the surface, she’s nothing like my mom, but there are striking similarities. They’re both stubborn. They’re both driven. And they both have big hearts. Just not the kind you’ll ever find on their sleeve.
Maybe that’s part of why I’m drawn to her. My momma demonstrated strength, and I saw all the ways she filled in my dad’s gaps. But I also saw the way he loved her. They’re a team.Different strengths to attack every problem. Partners in the truest sense of the word.
I never paid much attention before, but the older I get, the more I realize that’s what I want.Notmeaningless flings with fitness influencers.
Dad holds the phone up higher and lifts his chin. “Does this woman know how you feel about her?”
I lean forward, forearms on the steering wheel, and shake my head. “No. Not really.”
“Hmmph.”
“I mean, I joke around with her. Take her mind off work when I can. I, you know, try to make her laugh and stuff,” I say.
“All good things—but maybe not the most important thing, yeah?”
I nod. He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.
“I guess myunique personalitymakes me hard to take seriously.”
My dad busts out laughing. “Well, that’s your first hurdle. She doesn’t even know how you feel.”
