Page 20 of Living for Truth
I lock my phone and flop back onto the couch. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about him, but something tells me he’s not going to lay off the charm with me.
I just hope my heart won’t suffer.
Chapter 8
Morgan
Idon’t bother knocking on my parents’ door when I get to their house to pick up Aly. They always leave it unlocked for me when she’s spending time here, and if it’s locked, I have a key.
Laughter floats from the kitchen as I breach the entryway, and the sound has a smile tipping up the corners of my lips. Aly’s been struggling a lot lately with the stuff with her mom, but my parents always know how to boost her mood, and for that I’m grateful.
As silently as I can, I take off my shoes and make my way down the hall to the kitchen. As I peek around the corner, my dad, Axel, bends over the counter with his reading glasses perched on his nose. He is grumbling under his breath while he rolls out what I assume is cookie dough.
“Papa!” Aly giggles. “You’re pressing it too hard. You’re going to make our cookies too thin, and then they won’t be soft!”
“I’m trying my best, Sissy, but I’m just too strong to do it gently.” He stops rolling and flexes his muscles, causing Aly to giggle again and my mom, Iris, to roll her eyes.
“Here, Papa, I’ll show you how to do it gently.” Aly sets down her own rolling pin and makes her way around the counter, but before she can get to my dad, she sees me and smiles. “Hi, Dad! We’re making sugar cookies.”
I walk fully into the kitchen and stand by my mom. “I see that, Bub. It sounds like your Papa needs some baking lessons,” I tease.
“Don’t antagonize your father, Morgan,” my mom says with a gentle swat to my arm. “How was brunch with your friend?”
Aly has her hands on my dad’s and is gently explaining how to use the right pressure to get the best thickness for the dough, and my heart melts at their interaction.
Axel Fowler is not a small man. At six-foot-four and two-hundred-twenty pounds, he towers over my nine-year-old daughter. He’s always been a man of few words, but his actions speak to how good his heart is. Like right now, he could have let Aly and my mom make cookies alone, but he wanted to spend time with his granddaughter, so he’s doing something completely out of the ordinary for him to put a smile on her face.
“It was good,” I reply to my mom, never taking my eyes off of my daughter.
“You seem different than when you dropped her off, so I’m not buying that it was just ‘good.’” She sniffs.
I glance at her, then back over to Aly and my dad, then back at Mom and motion for her to follow me out on the patio. She sets her rolling pin down, washes her hands,and warns Aly not to eat any more dough before she meets me outside.
Their house has enough rooms for all of my siblings and me to sleep over for major holidays, and their backyard is big enough for a game of flag football. The patio is covered, so we can still have a place to sit outside and enjoy the rain without getting drenched when the weather allows. It’s currently coated in a layer of my daughter’s chalk art from earlier today.
“Aly’s getting really good at drawing, isn’t she?” I ask, settling into an Adirondack chair.
“Yes, she’s very talented. Don’t try to stall, young man,” Mom chides, settling in next to me.
“I told you I was going to meet the girl I accidentally texted two weeks ago.” Mom nods in agreement. “Well, turns out she’s also the gorgeous girl from the flower shop.”
My mom’s mouth drops wide open on a gasp, then she cackles what we’ve dubbed her “witch” laugh, smacking her knee. “What are the chances of that?!”
I can’t help but chuckle too, her laugh is contagious. “Yeah, it’s crazy. She also assumed I was a woman because I initially texted her about going on a date with a man.”
That makes her laugh even harder, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Morgan. That’s so funny. I needed a laugh today. What did she say when she saw you?”
“She thought the sister I mentioned at the shop was setting her up on a date. I cleared it up pretty fast, but she was still a little apprehensive at first.”
“Well, that’s understandable. I would be too if I was expecting a woman and you showed up instead.” Shewipes at the few errant tears that have fallen out of her eyes. “What’s got you buzzing like a bee then?”
I’m unsure if I want to tell her. I love my mom, but she’s got a habit of trying to play matchmaker, and I don’t want her meddling in this. It’s too fragile. But then again, she’s always been there to help me with my relationship troubles.
I take a big breath, hoping I’m not creating more of an issue. “She’s the one.”
My mom narrows her eyes at me. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve always told me to trust my gut. I knew the minute I saw her today. The more we got to know each other, the more I realized she’s it for me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her—the ‘virtual’ her or the ‘flower shop’ her. She’s got a lot of trauma from her ex-husband, so we agreed to just be friends for now, but I’m hoping she’ll feel the same way.”
