Page 72 of Resurrection
"That was in high school," I reply.
"Exactly," he grunts out.
"Don’t know if you noticed, but I'm not living on a tour bus anymore." I try to focus on the game, but all I see is her face.
"You staying for the reunion, Ty?" Mom shouts from the kitchen. I hear the scrape of a spoon against a bowl.
"Maybe. We’ll see," I call back.
"You should. You’ve missed every single year since you left for the city." Mom’s head pokes around the corner, her eyes all hopeful.
Dad lowers his voice like it’s some sort of secret he’s about to spill. "I hear you’ve been talking to Naomi."
"Maybe." I crack a smile, more to myself than to them. "A little."
"That girl has done well for herself." He keeps on looking at the screen, but something tells me his mind is elsewhere too as he continues talking. "She almost ended up on that cooking show once." He uses the remote to lower the volume of the game a bit and shouts in the direction of the kitchen, "What was the name of that program, hon?"
"Which program?"
"The one the Medina girl got scouted for?"
"Flavor something," Mom mutters.
"Top Flavor," I add quietly. It was years ago, back when she was still traveling the world. I was a bit upset when I found out she didn’t get past the audition round. If anyone deserved to be cooking on TV, it was her.
"That’s right." Dad nods. "Now look at her—a restaurant owner. Like her father. May he rest in peace."
"Dad," Mom says as she comes into the living room. "Did he tell you he’s volunteering at the community center?" She gestures at me with a towel.
"Is that where you’ve been going these days?"
I don’t know why I blush. I’m in my mid-thirties, but my parents know how to make me feel like a little boy who’s been caught stealing a late-night snack from the kitchen.
"Isn’t Naomi volunteering there too?" Dad croaks.
I can practically hear Mom’s satisfaction when she says, "You see what I mean, Dalton?" Then she gets back to whatever she's been doing.
"You were a fool to let that girl go, son." Dad shakes his head, sounding a little disappointed. "You’re not even denying it. So you know."
"Don’t rub it in, old man."
He just laughs. "You better use this time you’re in town wisely before someone snatches her from right under your nose. She’s a catch."
Dad’s attention turns back to the TV, and he bumps up the volume.
My head's spinning, suddenly replaying every moment of that make-out session with her again. It’s hard to concentrate on the game with my pulse hammering.
I grab my phone, tapping it nervously. The sky through the window blursinto the past, and all I see is her. I give in and head outside, the evening air warm against my skin. The stars blink above like they know the story.
After a few minutes of hesitating, I pull up the information for Oasis and call the restaurant number.
We both know she won’t pick up if I try her cell. I mean, I hope she still has that same number.
The first ring makes my heart stutter. I wait, almost wishing that no one answers. Most places have an automated service, but no, there’s a click and then an unfamiliar male voice says, "Thank you for calling Oasis at Sageview Ridge Casino. How may I assist you today?"
"Can I speak to Naomi?"
"You mean Chef Medina?"
