Page 29 of Thick and Thin

“Would you rather drive this one?”

I pursed my lips, not wanting to tell him that I’d avoided driving his car as much as possible because it didn’t feel right. Still, I would have to drive it back to Denver when I returned. “No. The Lexus is fine.”

Unexpectedly, Sinclair cupped my cheeks in his hands and kissed me, stirring my heart and soul with bottomless emotion.

Reminding me of just how much I loved him.

When the kiss ended, I was gripping the back of his sweater as if wanting to make him stay—but he was no doubt as uncomfortable in my world as I’d been in his when I’d first arrived.

“Call me if you need anything.”

I nodded, still in agony as I knew any time we’d have together would be short—and it was all the more difficult as he continued to reveal what a perfect man he really was for me.

As he drove down the street, I watched the car as it moved through one intersection, then another, and then, at the third, kept staring even after it turned onto the main road to leave Winchester.

I could still feel his kiss on my lips, that possessive sensation he gave off that he didn’t want to let me go…and yet I knew he understood just as I did that we were now on borrowed time.

Like the night before, I cried myself to sleep, and even though the reason was still due to Sinclair, it was an entirely different set of circumstances…tragic ones.

On Sunday morning, I asked dad what he wanted for breakfast. Between lunch and dinner the day before, he’d eaten all his Chinese food and I tried not to get my hopes up, but it seemed as though his appetite had returned.

The confirmation was when he sat at the table and said, “Let’s have some more of that lasagna.”

“For breakfast?”

“Why not? We used to eat leftover pizza in the morning when you were a kid.”

Nodding, I pulled the pan of lasagna out of the fridge. “Do you want a salad to go with it?”

Echoing my words, he said, “For breakfast?”

“Why not?”

“We can have salad for lunch. I’ve been craving more of your lasagna. Just lasagna.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

As I used a spatula to carve a healthy slab out of the pan, my father said, “You love him, don’t you?”

I felt a sudden chill cause the hair on my arms to stand at attention. Had it been that obvious? But, no, it was more than that. My father had often been in tune with my emotions. Still, I’d gotten pretty good over the years about hiding much of my dissatisfaction with our state and maintaining a calm demeanor, especially since he’d gotten ill. Telling him about something that upset me about what someone said in school—or even letting him see it in my mood—had seemed almost cruel, and I’d learned to keep it from him.

But maybe I’d gotten out of practice.

There was no denying the truth—and I’d already been feeling guilty about not telling him in the first place. Still, I couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Yes.”

I slid the plate of lasagna into the microwave and the beeps it made as I pressed buttons seemed loud, filling the room. When I pressed the Start button, the beeps were replaced by the sound of whirring fans in the microwave as it heated up my father’s food.

And the next words out of my mouth couldn’t have been lamer. “It just sort of happened.”

“Oh, princess, haven’t I told you? The heart wants who it wants, and there can’t be any helping it.”

Turning around, I asked him, “Is that how it worked with you and mom?” We’d never talked about her since she’d left, not much, because the loss of her had always been painful for both of us—but now it somehow seemed apropos.

“It did—for me, at least. Did I ever tell you we met at college?”

“No.” I hadn’t heard any of it. Pulling out a chair, I sat, wanting to hear my father’s story—or, at least, as much as he’d be willing to share.

“We both went to the university in Pueblo. It was all either of us could afford. Me, because your grandparents were both already on Social Security—and, even though their fixed income helped me qualify for financial aid, I still couldn’t afford one of the more expensive schools in the state. And your mother grew up in Pueblo and had been in foster care most of her life. Going to school there was a given—and she knew education was the key to moving up.”

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