Page 120 of The Cost of Forgetting You

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans. There’s a shuffling noise of something being removed, and then he holds up a brand-new deck of cards, still in their packaging. “We’re gonna play Rummy.”

I purse my lips, not wanting to burst his bubble.

“What?”

“It’s just, what if Dad doesn’t remember the rules?”

Truett’s sigh bleeds into a laugh. He slips an arm around my shoulders and guides me toward the hall. “Not to worry. I have it on good authority he’s been whooping Roberta’s ass at this game on the regular since she started. They used to play a lot when Mom was sick, and your father held a grudge because Roberta took him to the cleaner’s every. Time.”

My dad? Hold a grudge? “This I’ve gotta see.”

“Oh, Henry!” Truett singsongs.

Dad glances up as we step into the kitchen, his hand poised over a takeaway box from the Grille. Another sits empty to the right. He flushes, drops his hands, and glances away like a child caught in the act of shoplifting.

Truett lifts a brow. “Were you about to eat Delilah’s sandwich?”

“N-no.” Dad shakes his head, still staring at the ceiling. “Yours.”

I snort. Truett’s jaw drops. Dad pauses for a moment to reconsider, then reaches forward to pop open the container, steals a fry, and walks away.

“Feisty indeed,” I mumble.

“You were warned!” Truett quips. He grabs one of the containers and follows Dad to the table. “This one’s yours, Delilah.” He sets it down across from Dad, then points at him. “I’m watching you.”

I pour two glasses of water, take them to the table, then fix a third while Truett shuffles the deck. He’s placed his meal in the center of the table, and he and my dad take turns plucking fries from it. They squabble over an extra crispy one, but ultimately Truett lets him have it. I laugh as I set the final glass in front of my seat and slide in beside my dad.

“Do you…” Dad rolls his lips. The word is on the tip of his tongue. Satisfaction glints in his eyes when he seizes it. “Play. Do you play, sweet pea?”

“I have once or twice, years ago.” I study the hand I’ve been dealt, then the card on the discard pile. “You’ll go easy on me, right?”

Tru snorts but doesn’t look up from his cards. “Not a chance.”

Dad chuckles, then offers me a shrug. “It’s Rummy.”

I scowl at the two of them in turn. “What does that mean?”

“All’s fair in love and Rummy,” Truett says.

I roll my eyes. “No one says that.”

“Your dad says that.”

I glance at my father, and he nods. “I think I do say that.”

“Good to know.” I elect to draw a card from the stack and add it to my hand. The two men watch me. Dad is outright staring, and Truett is gazing over the top of his cards. When I gather a four-card run of spades and flatten it on the table, Tru’s mouth pops open.

“Your turn, Dad.”

“Ridiculous,” Truett scoffs. “We’ve been bamboozled!”

Dad shakes his head but keeps his eyes on me the whole time. “Well, fuck.”

I giggle nervously, then swallow hard. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Nah.” He nudges me with his elbow. “Talent. So talented.”

“We’ll see about that,” Tru says. His lips curve upward, and he cocks a brow at me in a clear challenge.

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