Our waitress approaches our table, her arms full. “I have food.” One by one, she sets our plates in front of us. “Does everything look right?”
“It looks perfect,” Chloe says, unwrapping her silverware.
“Delicious,” I add, my mouth already watering.
But when I look at Adley, she’s frowning at her food.
“Something wrong?” I whisper.
Her head snaps up. “Oh, no. It looks wonderful. There’s just a lot there, that’s all.”
The waitress laughs. “We don’t want you to leave hungry. Let me grab you some more water, and I’ll be right back.”
“Should we say grace?” Adley asks.
Chloe and I look at eat other at the same time and say, “Grace!”
Adley laughs and grabs her fork. “Good enough for me. Let’s eat.”
23
Lincoln
The next afternoon, Dad shoves his hands in his pockets and looks around. “So, this is The Barn, huh?”
“This is it. Except there’s usually not all the girly shit,” I say. There are purple and pink balloons and streamers everywhere. “Rose went a little overboard.”
I wait for him to make some comment about The Barn, because he hated how much time Chloe and I spent here, but he doesn’t.
“It looks great,” he says instead. “Chloe is going to love this.”
The first thing that pops into my head is You know nothing about what Chloe would or wouldn’t like, because you don’t know her. I keep my mouth shut, but it’s difficult keeping those thoughts at bay when I’ve been having them for so long. I’m going to have to work on that.
Roy catches my attention from across the room. He turns and says something to Rose and walks toward us. He’s smiling, but when he sees Dad standing next to me, that smile dies. For years, Roy took me and Chloe in whenever we needed it. Gave us a quiet shoulder to lean on, food when we were hungry, and a place to escape. Several times he’s voiced the desire to beat the shit out of my dad. I should’ve told him I was bringing Dad today, but I never got around to it.
“Roy MacElroy,” he says, holding a hand out to my father.
“Chris Bennett. Lincoln’s father.” Dad grabs Roy’s hand for a firm shake.
“I know who you are.”
There’s a bite to Roy’s words, and I can tell by the chagrined look on Dad’s face that he hasn’t missed it.
Dad releases Roy’s hand and clears his throat. “Thank you for always being there for my son. He speaks highly of you.”
Well, son of a bitch, I did not see that coming.
Obviously Roy didn’t either, because he turns to me with a cocked brow. I can tell by the look on his face that there are a million things he wants to say to my father. However, Roy may own a gym and train men to be strong, but he’s not a fighter at heart.
“You’ve got a great son. You should be proud of him. I know I am,” he says, squeezing my shoulder.
Dad concentrates on the floor for a few seconds before he looks up and nods. “I’m very proud. He’s come a long way in life—no thanks to me. If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
His words catch me off guard, and all I can seem to do is point toward the back of the room where the restrooms are located. Dad disappears, and Roy guides me away from the center of the room.
“Didn’t know he would be here.”
I cringe. “I should’ve told you.”