Page 26 of Inked Persuasion

Today was technically my day off, not something I usually allowed myself, but my staff had pushed me out the doors the night before and told me not to come back until Monday. Considering I had already threatened to do the same to them, I wasn’t sure I liked that we were mothering each other. Though maybe that’s what we needed.

I put my work away and went to get myself some water since I’d already had two cups of coffee. Considering it was the weekend, I should probably limit my caffeine intake. Maybe. I looked down at my phone and immediately called my parents because I could. I could go over there right now and check on them, and it wouldn’t take me over an hour in traffic to get there. There were reasons I’d moved here, and that was only one of them.

“Hey there,” my dad said. “Mom’s sleeping.”

I paused, not liking the tone of his voice. “You okay?” I asked. I didn’t ask if Mom was all right. My father would tell me either way. And first, someone needed to take care of Dad.

“It was a long night, but the nurse is here, doing what she can. Your mom is fine now. She’s resting, and we had a good morning. It was just a long night.”

I held back a curse and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Good. That’s good. Well, not about last night, but this morning. Did you get any sleep?”

I swore I could hear the smile in my father’s voice as he answered. “You know I didn’t. But I’m about to take a nap and possibly do some yardwork later.”

That made me smile even as I pushed away the fear. There wasn’t anything I could do but be there for them both. “I was about to do the same. And I should probably clean and vacuum or something.”

“Don’t you have one of those robot vacuums?”

“I do. Best invention ever.”

My dad sighed. “Wish we could have one, but I can’t have it tangling up in cords.”

“You’re using the cleaning service I hired?”

“We are. And I’m forever grateful for you providing that. While I still have the dexterity to get on my hands and knees and clean the tile, I’m glad I don’t have to.”

“You say the word, and I’ll start sending that food service there, too. They send meals already cooked, right to your door.”

“Maybe. Right now, we’re finding our normal, and I don’t think your mom or I are ready for that yet.”

“Understood. I would offer to cook for you, but we all know that would only hurt somebody in the end.” My dad laughed, and it was the most incredible sound in the world because it sounded real, not tired or forced—just my dad.

“I have no idea how you ended up such a poor cook. Your mother and I both do a decent job in the kitchen, and yet you can’t boil an egg.”

“I only blackened a pot once while boiling an egg.”

“And it was a nice pot. Never did get it clean again.”

I laughed and talked to my father for a few more minutes, reminiscing about the good times we’d had, something that we needed to do more often. These days, it seemed I only wallowed in the bad parts—Jonah, Susan, and now Mom. There needed to be good parts, too. If not, it would only get harder and harder to make it through each day.

We said our goodbyes, making sure we said, “I love you.” It had been something that Jonah had always ensured we did, no matter what. As we left the conversation, we had to tell each other that. Even if we were exhausted or fighting, we had to say it. Because the words were true, and you never knew when they would be your last.

And on that melancholic note, I slid my phone into my jeans’ pocket and went to get the tools from my garage. I opened the big door and walked out to my flowerbed and looked down at the project in front of me. Whoever had moved in before me had put in a bunch of mini rose bushes and a fern thing that I didn’t know the name of. I had no idea what I was doing with them and would probably end up hiring someone, but I needed to do something with my hands now, and this was it.

I moved to my hands and knees and pulled out some weeds—at least I hoped they were weeds—scowling at the things. How was it that they’d popped up so quickly? The real estate agent had said they had taken care of the house right before I moved in, and when I visited the place a couple of times, the weeds weren’t here. I swore they grew overnight.

“Be careful of the plant right next to where you’re pulling. That’s an actual flower that will bloom for you every year. You also have tulip bulbs that will spawn for you, even though Colorado winters sometimes mean they’ll come to life in February or late-June.”

I looked over at the sound of Annabelle’s voice, my gut tightening. It wasn’t because I hated her. No, that had been a lie I’d told myself for far too long. It was because she did something to me—something I shouldn’t feel.

She walked over, her feet bare in flip-flops, her toes painted a light pink. She had on torn-up jeans and a layered tee-shirt that made her look like she was young enough to be in college, and not a woman with a full-time job as a business owner.

Or a woman who was also a widow. I needed to stop thinking about her. She was Jonah’s, not mine.

“This?” I asked, pointing my tool at the flower thing.

“It’ll be beautiful. And there’s no maintenance other than making sure you don’t stab it as you’re taking care of the weeds.” Annabelle went to her knees beside me, her thigh brushing mine. I swallowed hard, annoyed with myself. “Here, come on, let me help.”

“You don’t have to. Just tell me what to do.”

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