Page 11 of Here In Your Arms

“Parents are confusing. I wish I had a good answer about why yours aren’t here, but I don’t. What I do know is that you are one amazing kid, and they messed up big time when they chose to leave you and never know you. I will take you in my life every day. I am not going anywhere, okay?”

Claire frowns. “Isn’t my dad your brother, though? Grandma sometimes says mean things when she thinks I can’t hear.”

“Yeah, he is, but he left a long time ago. Your dad didn’t get along with Grandma and Grandpa very well, and he’s so much older than me that we never bonded. So, when he got done with high school, he just left.”

“That’s sad.”

“It is, but you know what? I got you from it and I love you like crazy, so it worked out, huh?”

She gives me a small smile. “I guess so. I’m glad I have you, Aunt Rory.”

“I’ll fix that, bambina. Don’t worry.”

She giggles. “Bambina?”

“Yeah, it’s Italian.”

“We’re not Italian,” she says in that practical kid voice.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say with a wave of a hand. “Shall we compete in the game of life or death?”

She ponders, tapping her finger on her chin. “Only if you feel like dying,” she challenges with a small smile.

“Them’s fightin’ words,” I warn her as I turn on the Nintendo Switch.

We proceed to spend several hours playing Mario Kart, and I only have to apologize twice for what I say when she throws a blue shell. Not bad for me, honestly. She’s almost as bad, which I refuse to accept responsibility for, and I just give her the side-eye if she gets too animated. By the time I glance at a clock again, it’s almost 4:30 and I realize we snacked our way through the day. This is why I don’t have kids. If I don’t wake up at one hundred percent, then I forget meals and graze all day. It’s too hard to cook otherwise.

“We should get some food in you, or your grandma’s gonna chew me a new asshole,” I tell her.

“Are you planning to cook?” Claire asks with hesitation.

“You don’t blink an eye when I swear, but you protest to my cooking?” I ask her in disbelief.

“Aunt Rory, your swearing isn’t new, and your cooking never turns out how you want.”

“Damn you’re brutal. I’m a proud aunt, sprout.”

We get all the sweets put away, and while she’s collecting her nail polish to go in her bag, I pack up some sweets for her to bring home. I slip those into her bag with the nail polish before getting my shoes on and grabbing my purse.

“Diner?” I ask her.

Her eyes light up. “Sundaes?”

“Duh, but only if you eat all your french fries,” I order.

“You’re so weird.” She giggles and takes my hand as I close the door behind us.

Squeezing her hand twice, we descend the stairs and hop into the car. The diner is close to my apartment, and it’s one of those old-style ones with a U-shaped counter and booths lining the windows along the walls. It gets steady traffic, but I’ve never seen it packed, which is what I like about it. I want them to stay in business, but I don’t want to contend with others for a spot.

As we walk in, I notice a tall man sitting at the counter in a suit, his head bent over his phone, a coffee sitting next to him.

Who the hell drinks coffee at dinnertime? Weirdo.

Claire gasps next to me, and when I look down at her, she’s staring at counter dude. “Hey!” she says too loudly.

His head comes up, and he looks over, confused, and my heart about stops. It’s the Pool God. No idea what someone like him is doing at this diner, but he looks delicious in his suit. Now that I can see his eyes, up close, they are one of the brightest shades of blue I have ever seen. His hair is messy styled but still stylish, you can tell he puts a little work into it.

He looked good in his small swimsuit, but this man can rock a suit too it seems. He looks way out of my league, but I’m still going to enjoy the eye candy. As I take in his presence, the world seems to narrow on just him. Pool God looks around, then points to himself when he doesn’t see anyone nearby him.

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