Page 9 of When Love Comes Home

Smiling to myself, I pull out my phone and dial Jon’s number.

“Hello?”

Upon hearing his deep, reassuring voice, I feel a sense of calm, even though what I have to tell him won’t be easy.

“Hi Jon,” I say in greeting.

“Adam,” he begins, “I’m so glad you called. How was your first night at Katherine’s? Ha, ha. I mean, back in your house.”

“Coach,” I begin, steeling myself. “I couldn’t stay.”

“What do you mean?” His voice shifts, a trace of annoyance creeping in.

Without hesitation, I continue, “I sat down with Katie, and we talked. Neither of us thinks it’s a good idea for me to move in. She’s paying rent. The house is hers for the next six months. I can’t ask her or force her to let me move in. It wouldn’t be fair or right.”

“Adam, Adam.” Hearing my name repeated tells me everything I need to know—he doesn’t approve.

I instantly feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“Katherine is behaving like a child,” he says. “And you’re letting her. She’s spoiled and used to getting her way. Not this time.” I hear him take a deep breath, and I seize the opportunity to shift the conversation.

“Coach, are you hungry? I’m almost done here. I need to head back to the hotel for a quick shower. How about lunch at The Sandbar in about an hour?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Adam, you’re changing the subject. See you in an hour. This conversation is not over, Son.”

***

I walk into The Sandbar and see Jon already seated in a booth enjoying chips and salsa and a large Diet Coke.

He used to bring me here as a teen after spending hours together working on one of his father’s rehabs. Now, the rehabs are mine, and I owe it all to this man. He greets me with a smile and a hug.

“Sit down, Son.” he says, as he gives our waiter a small wave.

We order the food and spend the next ten minutes exchanging pleasantries about work, the weather, Sharon, and the girls. The time between us is never awkward, but I can feel a sense of dread creeping in as our conversation gets closer to the one subject we have to discuss but keep putting off.

The waiter brings out our lunch. A roast beef sandwich for him and a small combination pizza for me. Some things never change. We dig in, and both our moods begin to lift.

When we start talking about Loren and Justin's upcoming wedding, Jon hands me Justin’s phone number. "Give him a call," he says. "He wants to ask you to be one of his groomsmen."

"No kidding," I exclaim. There’s a ten-year age gap between us, but I’ve always seen Justin as both a friend and a little brother. I smile, genuinely touched that they’d want me to be part of their wedding party.

A short time later, Jon puts one last bite of sandwich in his mouth and shoots me an appraising look.

“What do you want me to say?” I begin, “Katie hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” He responds. “She calls you the son I never had because she thinks I wanted a son more than anything. I can’t tell you how much time and energy I’ve spent over the years trying to dispel that belief, to no avail.”

Jon and I have also had different variations of this same conversation a thousand times before. But now, Katie and I are both here. Neither one of us is going anywhere. The battle over Jon’s love and attention is only in Katie’s mind, and I don’t know how to get that point across to her.

Jon is now looking at me with concern written all over his face. I feel like he can read my thoughts.

"Do you remember Meredith Sanders?" I ask, wanting to change the subject. "She was in my graduating class.”

Jon nods. “Yes, of course. She’s a real estate agent here in town.”

“Yes,” I continue, “She’ll be showing me a few properties this week. I was going to ask Katie to help me find a place, but she’s completely shut off. She wants nothing to do with me.”

Jon shakes his head and smiles. Does he not see the severity of the situation?

---