Page 71 of Bringing Home the Bacon
“It’s, uh—well, it’s on a pause for now.”
“On a pause? What the hell are you talking about? Your new book just came out this week.”
“That it did.” He sighs.
There’s a heaviness on Trent’s side of the phone.
“What am I missing, dude? You okay?”
“Yeah? I guess? Things are just kind of?—”
“Spit it out, buddy,” I joke.
“My dad died on Tuesday.”
I don’t have words right away. That’s the last thing I thought he was going to say. Trent’s dad has always been this force of nature. And a beacon for me of what a real dad can be. When he and Trent’s mom welcomed me into their home as a young teen, it’s no exaggeration to say they saved my life. They gave me a home when I didn’t have one. They gave me a family when my own had let me down so spectacularly. I owe much of who I am—and the father I plan to become—to that man.
“I’m sorry to drop the news like this. It was unexpected. I know he meant a lot to you.”
“He did,” I say softly. “He does.” Shifting into past tense feels disrespectful somehow. “I’m shocked. And I’m so sorry, man. Is there anything I can do? How are you dealing?”
“Dealing okay, I think? I don’t know. I’m back in Doylestown helping my mom with the bookstore until she’s up for it again.” Frustration creeps into his tone. “I’ve been telling them for years that they should sell it, but did they listen to me?”
“I’m glad you’re there helping her out. She must be devastated,” I say. “Their love story was one for the ages, right? Isn’t that what your dad always said?”
“Yeah.” Trent sniffs. “He did.” He clears his throat. “Tell me something good. How’s your lady and those babies she’s incubating?”
Well Trent, on the exact day I planned to propose to her, she left me.
I’m not usually one to obfuscate the truth, but in this case, I feel it’s warranted.
“We’re great!” I say. “And the babies are doing great too. Doctors expect them to arrive a bit early. Apparently, twins almost always do.”
“Oh, man, that’s terrific. Congrats, buddy, I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
“You know, I owe you an apology,” Trent says.
“For what?”
“For the way I tried to steer you away from her all those months ago, telling you to move on, forget her, blah, blah, blah. It turns out that was more about me and my own shitty history with relationships. You didn’t need my negativity getting in your way. Clearly, you knew what you were doing all along. I’m glad you followed your gut and got the happy ending you deserve.”
The happy ending isn’t quite a done deal yet, not by a long shot, but I leave that part unsaid.
“Well, if you’re going to blame yourself for that, it’s only fair you give yourself credit for your woolen bra detective work that led me back to her in the first place.”
“You’re right,” Trent jokes. “I do deserve credit for that!”
“You certainly do.”
We laugh until Trent quickly gets serious again. “Listen, I know it’s really short notice and you have a million things going on, but – ”
“When are the services?” I ask.
“Tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
