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“Damn, was that you?” I joked then smiled at my spontaneous reaction. Then I thought, just like in life, Grace had knocked me off of my feet. Giving a rueful smile, I turned slowly and headed back to my life.
Stepping onto the boat that day, I felt a shift inside of me, like the burden of grieving for Grace had been lifted. It terrified and relieved me in equal measure, but I didn’t know what the emotional weight of those feelings meant for my future.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When the house came into view as I walked back from the meadow, Layla was waving excitedly at the front door. Next thing I knew, she started running toward me. Seeing her welcome lifted my heart and I bent down, holding my arms wide, waiting patiently to receive her into them.
When she reached me, I enveloped her in a loving embrace and spun her in fast circles on the lawn. I’m almost sure her high-pitched screams and infectious giggles were heard for miles.
“Stop, Daddy. Put me down,” she shouted in protest, but I knew it was all for effect because the look of glee on her face assured me she never wanted me to stop.
“Oh, I don’t know. I could do this all day,” I teased, but obviously I couldn’t. She was growing fast, and the weight and orientation meant I almost lost my footing. Placing her on the ground, I watched her stagger dizzily until she fell on her ass. I chuckled.
“What’s gotten into you today?” she asked, mimicking something Harper would have said to her.
I grinned then tried to bite it back and looked at her more seriously. “You. You’ve gotten into me. Can’t I spend time with my favorite girl without you busting…” I stopped because I had been about to say ‘busting my balls’ then remembered who I was talking to.
“What? Busting what? Your balls?” I stared wide-eyed and almost swallowed my tongue.
“Where did you learn that?” I asked, running my hand through my hair, guilt-ridden.
“You. You say it to… Matty, Harper, and Uncle Dorian,” she replied with her hands—one on her hip and one counting each person on her fingers. “What does it mean anyway? What balls? I’ve never seen them, where do you keep them?”
If ever there was a moment when my words had come back and bitten me in the ass, it was at this precise second.
“It’s only a saying, Baby,” I offered, trying to dismiss it.
“Well you say it a lot.” She paused, blinking for effect as she thought more about it. “You say it so much, if there really were balls, there would be none left to bust.”
I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped my lips. “You’re so right. I really need to say something else when people are getting my goat.”
“Who’s getting your goat? You’ve got a goat?” she asked excitedly, her eyes big as saucers and her face full of expectation.
“What? No. No goat… another saying… never mind.” I sighed and looked down at her innocent little face, knowing in my heart Grace was right. I owed it to Layla to do better. “Let’s go to the house. Do you know what’s for dinner?” I asked swiftly changing the subject.
“Meatballs and sketti,” she immediately replied. “I wanted mac and cheese, but Harper said I’d turn into macaroni, but sketti is the same thing just designed differently.” Her rationale was spot on; pasta was pasta no matter how it was shaped.
When I pushed open the front door, the heat from inside engulfed me. I stepped aside, letting Layla walk in first. “Boots off, young lady,” Matty called from the kitchen.
“All right, stop busting my balls, I’m doing it,” Layla shot back.
Coughing back a laugh, I gave her ‘the look’ that warned her she’d gone too far, and she bowed her head to look down at the floor. The last thing I wanted was me admonishing her right before I went away, so I scooped her up and whispered in her ear. “You can only say that to me, Baby Girl.”
“I’m doing it,” she called over my shoulder to Matty again, and I smiled in awe at how quickly she caught on.
Wandering into the kitchen with Layla in my arms, the wickedly mouthwatering smell of basil, garlic, and red wine permeated the air and my stomach groaned as pangs of hunger shot through me.
“Smells delicious,” I told Matty as I stood Layla down on her feet. Matty gave me a second look and frowned, and I guessed she had noticed I’d been crying again.
“Can you help set the table?” Harper asked Layla as I slid onto the stool next to the fridge, leaned over, and pulled a beer out from the already open door.
Twisting the bottle cap with my teeth, I took a long drag from the cool, bitter tasting liquid.
“One of these days, you’re gonna give yourself a cavity doing that,” Matty scolded.
“Yeah, I suppose,” I mused, checking out the cap on the counter and chugging down the rest of the beer.
“Dinner is set,” Matty informed us and dished it up into large serving bowls.
