Page 22 of Adrift

“Did his previous caretaker leave?”

We turn to go up a steeper path, and I adjust my grip on the stroller’s handlebar. “No. His other grandmother was having some health problems, and Darian needed someone to help out until he could find a more permanent solution. So, I volunteered.”

Liam’s eyes linger on me once more. “I’m not surprised.”

I turn to him with a smile. “Oh yeah? One long walk around the park and you already have me figured out, huh?”

He laughs. “Hardly. I’m just an intuitive person, I suppose.” He pauses and I notice the faint freckles on his nose. “But I’d like to get to know you better . . . if you’d let me.”

I press my lips together, hoping I don’t look like the blushing idiot I feel like inside. I know what he’s hinting at. I get where this is going, but something is holding me back from jumping at the chance to go out with him–an internal voice, perhaps–so I stall. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, for starters, what do you do?”

“I’m studying journalism. I’ll graduate in two years and hope to go into content writing or social media planning.”

“That sounds pretty interesting. What made you interested in journalism?”

I shrug. “I’ve always been good at writing and distilling information. I love learning about peoples’ lives and experiences, along with keeping up with what’s happening in the world. I also find content dissemination through marketing websites pretty interesting, too. So, it just made sense.” I squint at him. “You know, I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here. You seem to know a lot more about me than I do about you.”

“Well, we’re going to need more than a walk around the park for that, I’m afraid. I have a very intriguing and exhilarating life as a business analyst working for a water utility company.” He grins playfully. “Perhaps I can entice you to have dinner with me? There’s just so much of me to get to know.”

When he sees me smile but hesitating to answer, he continues, “Oh, come on, I can’t have you thinking of me as the guy who’s owned by a four-legged beast pretending to be a dog. It’s not a respectable look for me. Give me a chance to redeem myself.”

On cue, as if knowing it’ll embarrass Liam further, Pepper decides to plop down on the grass and roll over, pulling Liam forward with her. He swears under his breath as her leash gets wrapped around his leg, making me burst out laughing.

I can’t help but find Liam endearing. He may not be exactly my type, but there’s no denying he’s funny and sweet. “I think you have your work cut out on changing my mind.”

* * *

Karine: Are you and Arman home? I made dinner and

I read the text again to make sure I’m not missing some context before a smile spreads over my face.

Me: We just got home from our walk not too long ago. Come on over. Oh, and what does mean?

Karine: Chocolate pudding! You’ll love it. It’s my special recipe.

I’m still giggling about our text exchange when I step out onto Darian’s back patio, but I suppress the laugh as soon as I see Karine. “How’s your physical therapy going?” I hand the baby to Karine.

Karine pulls Arman into a hug, placing a soft kiss on his head. He seems happy after his nap, bouncing on his feet in her lap.

“Oh, it’s good,” she says, her unique Armenian accent rounding out the O’s in the words. “I don’t feel a change besides some soreness in my arms and legs, but the therapist said it takes time.” She rolls her eyes. “Who knows? It could all just be a money-making scheme.”

I laugh. “I highly doubt that, but I hope you start feeling some changes soon.”

“Me, too.” Karine’s short dark hair–the same color as her son’s–whips around in the breeze. She’s a petite woman, though rounder around her stomach and thighs. “I’ve missed my Arman jan.” Her smile widens as she affectionately squeezes her grandson before she looks at me. “Still not fully walking, huh?”

Arman pulls his grandma’s necklace and studies it with intrigue, and I lean over to tickle his cheek with my finger. “Not yet, but he’s trying. Yesterday, he stood up on his own a few times and took a couple of steps, but then he got worried and crab-crawled everywhere.”

Karine lifts him and blows raspberries on his stomach, making him squeal. “Yup, same as last week. Well, we’ll get there soon, won’t we, Arman jan?” She turns to me. “Darian was the opposite as a baby. He was walking by eleven months and talking in almost full sentences by fourteen months. The boy threw caution to the wind, you know? He was a risk-taker through and through. And once his dad and older brothers introduced him to the snow and the mountains . . .? It was over.” She rolls her eyes. “The boy didn’t want to come home! He was captivated by the snow, though he loved water sports just as much.”

“I’m sure you were worried about him breaking bones,” I state, imagining a much younger version of the dark-haired, dark-eyed man I’ve seen over the last few days.

“Oh, he broke plenty. After the first time he broke his wrist and the time he broke his ankle, I gave up trying to control him. He was going to do it, whether I agreed or not.” She gives me a saddened look. “But you know, it’s not his bones I’m worried about anymore.”

“No?” I ask, knowing what she’s referring to.

“No, it’s that broken heart he walks around with. The one that carries the weight of two people.”

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