Page 110 of Bourbon Bliss
I didn’t know what to do with my feelings. There were so many of them. Bright, their colors harsh and glaring. They bounced through my head, leaving messy splotches all over my brain, like splashes of neon paint.
I’d thought about eating my feelings this morning. But Jonah had come downstairs and told me about a new study that had recently been published in theJournal of Sports Nutrition. Hearing about macronutrient ratios and intermittent fasting while Jonah made himself a protein shake had dampened my craving for carbs and fat. So I’d decided to go to my parents’ house.
It was my dad’s day off, so he was dressed in civilian clothing. In fact, it was early enough in the day that he hadn’t yet changed out of his shirt and pajama pants. My mom wore the matching pajama top as she walked around the house, watering her plants, humming to herself. She walked by Dad and gave him a little caress on the cheek before moving on to the next room.
My parents were the picture of a happy marriage. I’d always taken their relationship for granted—never put much thought into what made it special. Or even the fact that itwasspecial. Looking back, it was an odd thing to have missed. I’d grown up with the Bodines, their family dynamic a sharp contrast to the life Cassidy and I had lived within these walls.
But I hadn’t been paying attention. Relationships had confused me, made me uncomfortable. So I’d ignored them unless forced otherwise. I’d always loved my parents, and cared about them. My sister as well. But I felt a twinge of guilt, now, at how easily I’d taken them for granted. Their place in my life was important—vital, even. It had taken meeting, loving, and possibly losing George to make me see it.
I supposed it was better late than never.
“You and Mom have always set a very positive example as to what a healthy marriage should be,” I said. “Thank you.”
Dad looked at me, his brow furrowed, his white mustache twitching. “You’re welcome?”
“I’ve never told you what a good role model you’ve been. So I’m telling you now.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, thank you, June Bug. Truth is, your mama makes it easy. I’m just lucky she’s put up with me all these years.”
I was about to reply when something on TV caught my attention. Had they just said GT Thompson?
“The former all-pro receiver could be facing charges of tax evasion. Thompson retired after his second ACL tear midway through last season. Now, he’s being investigated by the IRS, and his assistant, Andrea Wilson, is allegedly complicit in the fraud.”
Dad muted the TV and looked at me, his eyebrows lifting. “Did you know about this?”
“It’s not his fault,” I said. “His assistant was underreporting his income and stealing the money she should have been using to pay his taxes.”
Mom stood in the doorway, still holding her green plastic watering can. “Oh dear. June Bug, invite him over for dinner tonight. He probably needs a good meal.”
“He’s not here. He went to Philadelphia.”
“Well, when he gets back, then,” Mom said.
I nodded, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap.
“Is there more to this?” Dad asked, his voice soft.
“I believe him. I’m not upset because he could be facing criminal charges.”
“Then what is it?”
“I could have helped,” I said. “Only he didn’t tell me until yesterday.”
Mom set her watering can on the side table and sat in the armchair next to the couch. “Pride makes men do stupid things. Like not asking for help when they need it.”
“So you’d consider this within the realm of typical male behavior?”
“Sure,” Mom said, and I caught the little wink she gave my dad.
“But it was more than simply failing to ask for help,” I said. “When he told me about his predicament, I was given the very distinct impression that he didn’twantmy help. He said he doesn’t need another accountant.”
“Maybe that’s not the sort of help he needs,” Mom said. “Sometimes a man doesn’t need you to fix things for him. He just needs you to love him through the hard times.”
Mom and Dad shared a tender look. I’d seen those expressions on their faces when they looked at each other more times than I could count. But the meaning finally clicked into place. That was love. Real, true love that had lasted decades.
A feeling surged through my chest, making all the other conflicting emotions pale in comparison. It was warm and certain. A sense of clarity amid the confusion.
I loved George. That wasn’t new information. I’d known I loved him for some time. Even said those words to him. But I finally understood what that meant. And more importantly, I knew how to behave in light of that fact.
