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We all laughed that time.
“Did he date much in high school and such?” I asked.
Stella looked up in thought. “You know, he might have dated one or two girls for a few months or so, but nothing serious. He once asked me how he’d know when he’d found the one.” She used quotations around the one.
“What did you tell him?” I asked, instantly thinking of Avery—and then pushing her out of my head.
Smiling, she said, “You just know. You’ll think about them all the time, day and night.”
“You’ll want to see them happy, and more than that, you want to make them happy,” Ty said, taking Stella’s hand in his. “You would die for them and not think twice about it.”
“Have you ever been in love, Beck?” Stella asked. “Actually, I should ask, are you in love? Are you seeing someone?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. I thought I was in love once. It didn’t take me long to figure out she was only with me because of my family’s money. That was a rough lesson. After that, I found it hard to trust women. Or at least, since then, I always question why they like me.”
Ty nodded. “I can imagine with a high-profile family like yours, it has to be hard to trust anyone.”
I shrugged. “I have a small group of friends whom I know will always have my back. But they’re all moving on with life. Getting married…a couple have even started having kids.”
“Would you like kids?” Stella asked with a sweet smile of hope.
“I would,” I replied with a slight laugh. “I think I would like at least two. I didn’t mind growing up an only child, but since losing my mother, I feel very alone.”
She reached over the table, and I gave her my hand.
“You’re not alone anymore, sweetheart. You have all of us now, if you want us to be in your life.”
Feeling my emotions starting to bubble up, I nodded. It was the best I could do.
“We better all get to bed. It’s late. I’m sure Brock will be knocking on the door early tomorrow morning even though he said he wouldn’t be by until afternoon,” Ty said.
Stella stood. “He always was an early riser.”
“You two head to bed; let me clean this up,” I said. “I mean, if you don’t mind me messing around in your kitchen.”
Stella handed me her mug. “Darlin’, if you’re offering to do dishes, I don’t care what you do to the kitchen.”
Ty gave me a pat on the side of the arm. “It’s hard to believe we just met you today. Feels like you’ve always been here.”
Smiling, I replied, “I guess a part of me has.”
Stella pulled me in for a hug and said, “Don’t stay up too late. And you make yourself at home.”
“Thank you,” I answered.
She drew back and kissed me softly on the cheek. “Good night, Beck.”
“Good night, Stella…Ty. Sleep well.”
“You too, son,” Ty said, as he took Stella’s hand, and they started out of the room.
I gathered up the mugs and plates from the cookies and quickly washed them. I wiped down the counters and made sure everything looked okay for Stella in the morning. I left the dishes in the drainer, since I had no idea where any of them went.
Heading upstairs, I stopped and stared at the door that led to my father’s room before walking into the bedroom Stella gave me for the duration of my visit. Grabbing some sweats and a long-sleeve T-shirt, I headed to the bathroom and took a shower. I was going to get into bed and sleep—I was exhausted—but the room next door was calling me, so I grabbed my phone and headed over.
Once inside, I let my eyes move slowly around the room, this time really taking in everything.
Out of nowhere, a strange feeling moved over my body, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood. I quickly turned toward the door—still closed. No one was there. But it felt like someone was there. In fact, the presence was so intense, I almost called out to see if I was alone.
With a shake of my head, I exhaled and returned my attention to the room. The fact that Stella and Ty hadn’t touched the space in nearly three decades was crazy insane. I looked at the bed and wondered how many times Stella had come in and sat there. Or had even lain down, missing her son. I’d done that countless times after my mother died. I’d lain in her bed and just stared at the ceiling, wishing she was still there with me.
Slowly, I walked over and sat down on the bed. For years as a child, I would talk to my father. It never mattered to me that I hadn’t met him; a part of me had always felt like he was with me. And maybe he was. Minutes before she passed away, my mother said he was there with her. The memory came back to me as I closed my eyes and thought of her…
