Page 67 of Summer Affair
“And I could tell you totally didn’t elevate it.”
“I did get off of it.” He kissed her nose. “And did I say thank you for rescuing me?”
“Multiple times.” She grinned.
“I took a note from your podcast and had an actual honest conversation and learned enough to know he’s drowning in the responsibility to keep Stout running for our old man. I’m not sure how to help. He won’t hire new staff, he’s working around the clock, and he’s not happy. It’s because he’s stubborn and prideful and doesn’t know when to quit.”
What the hell. Instead of keeping things light, he was playing with her hair while going all Dr.Phil. But then she rose and kissed him, and he didn’t give two shits about how big of a mistake this might end up being.
“Sounds like someone else I know. Maybe it runs in the family?”
He snagged her lips. “I’m not stubborn or prideful; I’m determined and confident in my abilities.”
“Aren’t those just other words for stubborn and prideful? But determined and confident look good on you.”
He pulled her on top of him so that she was straddling his waist. “You’re a good look on me.”
She sprawled over him like he was a mattress, face tucked in the crook of his neck, feet tucked beneath his thighs. She kissed the side of his throat.
“Your feet are like ice.”
“You’re like a furnace.”
“I can heat things up.”
“First, tell me what College Clay was like?”
He put his hands behind his head. “What do you think he was like?”
She studied him for a moment, then let loose a small smile. “Quiet, introspective, studious, and really into girls.”
He chuckled. “I thought you’d say cocky, partier, and really into girls.”
Her smile vanished and she turned serious. “You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his family. You’re the youngest but the most in touch with yourself and your emotions. You’re not easily rattled, you’re patient in situations most people would run from, and you always put others first, even when it makes your life more difficult.”
“They’re family. That’s what families do.”
“Not all families,” she said, and he could hear the hurt in her voice.
“It must be hard carrying all the weight all the time, but you’re doing an amazing job,” he assured her. “You’ve raised a great kid, Jillian.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I think back to my mom and the way she loved me, and I try to be that for Sammy. She was this big, bright person who made my world special. She made me feel special. My grandma did too, going out of her way to give me a great childhood, but it wasn’t the same.”
“After my dad died my brothers and mom all tried to give me what my brothers had had with my dad. While I loved every minute of the time we spent together, it never made up for losing him when I was so young. And my mom.” He shook his head. “She was buried in so much grief, for a while it felt as if I’d lost both parents.”
“It’s a kind of lonely that leaves lasting marks. When my dad bailed, I used to blame myself. I’d play that day over and over, and I never could figure out what I’d done so wrong for him to walk away.”
“Do you speak to him now?”
She shook her head, that silky hair brushing his chest. “No. He brought his mistress to my mom’s funeral, then married her three months after my mom passed. I’ve never been able to forgive him. But sometimes, when I look at Sammy’s small family, I wonder if I made a rash decision. He could have a set of grandparents. But I don’t want to set him up for that kind of disappointment,” she said quietly. “He’s had enough broken promises in his little life, I don’t want to open him up to more.”
“My dad used to say that love isn’t a noun, it’s a verb. A series of sacrifices and small actions to remind those in your life that they are cherished. He also believed that family needed to work twice as hard to show love.”
“That’s beautiful,” she said, and he could have sworn he saw a flicker of something in her eyes that made him squirm. But it vanished as if it had never been there at all.
“My dad was pretty insightful. He was one of the few people I know who was comfortable with silence. He wasn’t soft-spoken, but when he spoke, his words had meaning. I work hard to be even a fraction of the man he was.”
She looked at him, eyes soft but assessing. It was as if she could see everything he kept locked away from the world. The fears, the doubt, those scars she’d talked about. He began to look away when she cradled his face. “I think your dad would have been proud of the man you’ve become,” she said. “I forget that we weren’t all that far apart in age when we each lost a parent.”
