Page 96 of Mr. Charming

I hate the ache that nestles into my chest that next year at this time, I probably won’t be with them.

Forty-Three

Tedi

I stand in the entryway of the hotel, checking my watch for the time. Where is Toby?

Suddenly, a huge pickup truck comes flying into the roundabout and skids to a stop. Seriously?

Theo honks the horn instead of getting out of his truck and greeting me, the man-child he is.

I walk out of the sliding doors and open the passenger door of his truck. “Why are you here?”

Theo smiles, his beard unkempt, his beanie covering what I’m sure is a mop of dark hair that’s equally as messy as his beard. He smiles wide, and for a moment, I forgive him for never finding it within himself to grow up.

“Is that any way to say hello to your baby brother?” He pushes fast food bags out of the way onto the floor of the truck.

I grunt, put my bag on the seat, and accumulate the variety of fast food bags before going over to the trash and tossing them in. Then I grab my bag filled with the Falcons merchandise I was able to scrounge up in the small amount of time I had, climb up using the step, and sit my ass in what I assume is a filthy seat.

“Stop with the judgment. I just got it cleaned last week.”

I look behind me in the back seat of the quad cab, see all the blueprints, and raise my eyebrows. There’s crap everywhere. Before I have time to respond, he throws it in drive and peels away.

“Theo, do I have to remind you that there are people I work with at that hotel? And please tell me where Toby is?” Toby would have had his heated seats on for me. It would have smelled nice in his vehicle, and the mats would’ve been vacuumed.

“I’m offended.” He turns the truck, and soon we’re on the highway.

“You’re taking me to Mason’s school, right?”

“Those were my orders.” He sits back in his seat, resting his hand on the lower part of the steering wheel, not concerned at all that the roads are shitty from the aftermath of a snowstorm.

From what the news says, another storm is headed this way. Not sure why we’re putting our lives in jeopardy for a non-conference game.

“How have you been?” I ask.

“Not as good as you apparently.” He glances over and waggles his eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing. You know I’m always kept in the dark. Except for this time.” He waggles his eyebrows again.

“Theo!”

He laughs, putting his hand on my leg. “Loosen up. You’re about to see our nephew.”

“How is he?”

Theo’s head moves side to side. “As good as can be expected. I think we all know how he’s feeling. We’ve been there.” Theo’s joking, always-ready-for-a-good-time personality sobers because he’s right. We all know what it’s like when your mom doesn’t want you.

Toby’s wife, Carrie, decided last year that she didn’t want to be married or be a full-time mother. She gave Toby full custody, and she occasionally comes to visit. It’s more than we ever got, and I’m on the fence over which one is easier. When your mom just disappears or when she sometimes has a hankering to see you to ease her guilty conscience, then disappears again.

“Did you hear Dad’s getting laid again? It’s really taken the grumpy old man out of him.”

“Yeah, I messaged him that I want him to bring her to dinner.”

“I guess I’m going to be Toby’s favorite sibling again.” Theo grins.

I check my phone because I thought Tweetie said he would call me when they were done with their morning skate, and I wonder if it went long. This is the problem. I already want just fifteen minutes alone with him before he goes to the game, and we’re separated until I get back to Chicago.

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