Page 86 of The Love of My Next Life
I guess I wouldn’t really know.
I laugh and shake my head, but I don’t argue. It’s obvious I’m not having a blast, so I switch out my ugly bowling shoes for my Vans and slip on my jacket. Mom and the girls got a suite at the hotel in Suffolk, so I won’t run into Lennon until tomorrow.
I wish I could say it makes me feel better, but it doesn’t. Not having her around fucks with me just as much as having her around. I’m going to spend the whole night wondering what she’s doing and who she’s doing it with, which is why I plan to smoke a ton, drink a bit, and fill another sketchbook up with drawings of her eyes and hands and lips and that stupid fucking braid.
When Julian found my sketchbooks a couple years ago, he fucked with me for weeks. Not because I had sketchbooks filled with Lennon, but because I had sketchbooks filled withparts. Pages of eyes and eyebrows. Of lips making various expressions. Hands creating different gestures.
Why don’t you ever draw a whole person?
This is some serial killer shit, right here.
He didn’t realize that it was Lennon until he saw the braids. Each one tied off with a different fucking ribbon. That was my mistake, assuming he was too high to make the connection.
He thinks I only sketch her in pieces because I’m trying to keep my feelings for her hidden, but that’s not why.
I only sketch Lennon in pieces because I’m not worthy of the whole. I’m not good enough. I’d fuck up a full rendition, so I stick to perfecting her in parts.
“I’ll see y’all bright and early tomorrow at the Hyatt,” Joe says as he walks to his car in the bowling alley parking lot.
I was worried he’d come back to the house and want to bond and do bachelor party shit like, I dunno, smoke cigars or play poker or something. I’m relieved when he doesn’t. I’m not surprised, though. For being a badass Navy SEAL, Trent’s kind of boring.
I smile and glance at him in the driver’s seat of his 4Runner. This whole situation sucks for me, but I’m happy for Mom. She deserves a good, boring guy.
“Thanks for coming with tonight, Macon,” Trent says, breaking the silence. “I know it’s not your idea of a good time, but I was glad to have you there.”
His words kind of surprise me, so I shrug and blow it off.
“Sure,” I mumble. “Thanks for the invite.”
Trent nods, and it gets quiet again. I wait for him to turn on the radio, but he doesn’t. Something else is coming. I can feel it.
A scolding? A warning? Some sort of chest banging alpha show of dominance?
I sit up straight and ready myself. It won’t be the first time a father-figure has laid into me. I’m pretty good about hiding the hurt now. When Trent takes a breath and opens his mouth, my lips tighten, preparing to bite my tongue and take it.
“You’re a good kid, Macon,” he says, and my jaw drops. He glances at me and chuckles. “You are,” he insists. “I know you’ve had a rough go, and you haven’t always made the best decisions—”
I snort. Understatement of the year, and he doesn’t even know half of it.
“But I see you,” he continues. “I see how much you love and care for your mom and Claire. I see how hard you work. I know you’re smart and talented, and I know that where it counts, you’re good and kind. You’ve been forced into a very difficult situation, but you’re a good kid, Macon, and you’re going to be a good man.”
I swallow hard and clear my throat.
“Thanks,” I rasp.
It’s not at all what I was expecting. Now I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I want you to know that I love your mom very much,” he says. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make her happy.”
“I know,” I say honestly. If I know anything, it’s that Trent Washington is head over heels for my mom, and he’d do anything for her.
“I also love you and Claire. I’m so happy that you’re going to be my family, and even though I’m not your biological father, I hope someday you can come to see me as your dad.”
Fucker is going to make me cry.
I take a deep breath and nod. I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. I stare out the front window, then slide my palms down my thighs and grip my knees so I have something to do with my hands as Trent starts talking again.
“One last thing,” he says with a small laugh. “You can come to me for anything. Anything at all. If you’re in trouble, or confused, or if you just don’t want to be alone with your thoughts, I’m here for you, okay?”
