Page 73 of Getting the Grinder
She flips off the lid and pushes the tissue aside.
“My dream black Louboutin booties,” she says softly. “This is ... I’m ...” She takes out one of the booties and sniffs it. “This is what heaven smells like.”
“Suki said you’ve been wanting those.”
She shakes her head. “I never actually thought I’d own a pair of Louboutins. I can’t even afford the used ones.”
Setting the box on the bed, she hugs me. “I’m overwhelmed. Thank you so much.”
“We’re just getting started, babe. There are many more good times ahead for us.”
“We couldn’t have asked for anything more in a daughter,” Mara’s dad says to me later that morning. “She’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
Nick Torres isn’t what I expected. He’s paralyzed from the waist down, but I forgot about that within the first ten minutes of talking to him. He’s wearing a Wounded Warrior Project baseball hat, a flannel and jeans. His eyes are warm and he’s easy to talk to.
“You and your wife have done an incredible job,” I say.
After we finished eating and exchanging gifts, Nick asked to talk to me privately. He wheeled his chair into a sunroom off the kitchen, closing the double glass doors so we could talk alone.
“Why do you love my daughter?” he asks me.
“She challenges me and supports me. I don’t know how she manages to do both those things at once, but she does. She makes me laugh, and she stands up for people who can’t stand up for themselves. She’s strong, but she lets herself be vulnerable enough to need me. Just like I need her.”
He nods, an emotion I can’t place in his eyes.
“Life doesn’t always go like you think it’s going to.” He gestures at his legs. “I never saw this coming. But my wife—she never doubted me. She thinks I’m strong, so I am.”
I feel like he has more to say, so I wait quietly.
“If someone had told me twenty years ago that I’d be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of my life at age thirty-seven, and that I’d be happy with my life, I wouldn’t have believed it. I would’ve thought my life was over. But my wife and daughter—they’re my reasons.”
“I know I don’t have your years of wisdom and experience, but Mara is becoming my reason. I love her. I’m devoted to her.”
He smiles softly. “She deserves that. And as long as you’re good to her, you’re family to us.”
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”
“Thank you for the money. I thought I’d be too proud to accept it, but when I saw the weight it took from my wife’s shoulders, I knew I had to swallow my pride.”
“I don’t expect that to buy me goodwill. It was a gift, with no expectations.”
Mara is standing in front of the glass doors, cringing. I smile at her and Nick turns, smiling and waving for her to come in.
“Did you scare him off, Dad?” she cracks.
“I let him know I can kick his ass if he hurts my daughter, legs or no legs.”
I put my palms up. “Won’t be necessary, I promise.”
Mara’s mom walks into the room carrying a pie. “I thought we’d have dessert in here. But first, can I ask Aunt Rhonda to take a picture of all of us for Facebook?”
Mara and I exchange a look. We haven’t gone social media official, but I can’t think of a better way to do it than this, with her parents, while I’m wearing the jersey she gave me for Christmas and she’s wearing the necklace and booties I got her.
“You bet,” I say, standing up.
Mara takes my hand and leads me from the room, going to stand in front of the Christmas tree in the living room. While we wait for her parents to come into the room, she stands beside me, grinning.
“Can you believe this?” she says.
