Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
I close the door behind me and the laughter in the other room immediately cuts off.
“Honey, is that you?” My dad calls.
I set my keys down on the table in the center of the foyer, pass the staircase, and step through the rounded archway. As I cross into the living room, I pull up short. My dad is sitting in his battered old recliner—a gift from my mother about a billion years ago—and reclining on the sofa is a man I haven’t seen in a very long time.
A wide smile on his face, my dad jumps to his feet, his big body engulfing mine as he pulls me into a hug. I lean into him, feeling the deep rumble in his chest as he laughs.
“It’s good to see you, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re home,” he said.
“I’m glad to be home too.”
He releases me and steps back then gestures to the man on the couch and I feel my stomach lurch. Like my dad, he’s tall. Six-three or so and has a lean, athletic build. His white dress shirt clings enticingly to the hard angles and planes of his body, the fabric straining over biceps that seem larger than my thighs. His sandy blond hair is neatly styled, parted on the right, and he’s got a thick beard that’s trimmed and frames his square jaw. The man stares at me with eyes so blue, they’re almost silver and seem to see straight through me.
“Sweetheart, you remember Myles, don’t you?” my Dad asks.
I nod. “Uh, yeah. Of course. It’s been a while.”
Myles gets to his feet, his smile making him look ten years younger and showcasing the deep dimples in his cheeks. He walks over and takes my hand in his and I stare at it for a moment, feeling my skin beneath his touch grow as hot as my cheeks feel. Clearing my throat, I try to stop the flutter in my heart and silently pray my face isn’t as red as I think it is.
“It’s good to see you again, Maeve,” he says in his crisp Irish brogue. “The last time I saw you, you were still wearing braces and pigtails.”
My laugh is nervous. “Yeah, it’s been ages. It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Flannigan.”
His smile makes my heart turn a somersault in my chest. “Enough of that Mr. Flannigan bollocks,” he says. “We’re all grownups now. Just call me Myles.”
“Myles,” I say, relishing the way his name falls from my lips. “It’s, uhhh… it’s really nice to see you again.”
“Lovely to see you too.”
My dad turns to me. “I hope you don’t mind, sweetheart, but Myles was in town and I invited him to spend Thanksgiving with us.”
My smile falters slightly. Thanksgiving has been our day. It’s been the day we spend together, remembering Mom and I’m not sure how I feel about him inviting somebody to share that day with us. Not even Myles. I know he’s like family and I grew up with him around, even calling him Uncle Myles for years when I was a kid, but Thanksgiving is sacred to me.
“It’s all right if you’re not okay with that, love,” Myles says. “I don’t want to intrude—”
“No. No, it’s all right,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. Of course I don’t mind.”
He holds my gaze, and my heart does that stupid flip-floppy thing again. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Of course,” she says. “You’re family. You should spend it with us.”
My dad gives me a smile and squeezes my arm. If there was one thing I learned from my mom, it was to always be gracious. Letting Myles spend the day with us is totally something she would have done.
“Thank you, love,” Myles says. “I appreciate that.”
“Of course,” I respond. “I’m going to get settled in”
“Let me help you with your bags,” my Dad says.
“No, it’s all right. I got it. Thanks.”
“Well, if you need help, just give us a shout,” he replies.
“I will.”
As I walk out of the living room to grab my things, I cast one last glance over my shoulder at Myles, who’s retaking his seat on the couch, picking up his conversation with my dad. Our eyes meet for just a second and it jolts me, like I’ve got lightning flowing through my veins. He used to be Uncle Myles yet, seeing him now, after all this time, has me feeling as disoriented and out of sorts as seeing my neighborhood through adult, rather than a child’s eyes.
2
MYLES
Still feeling a bit jetlagged, I manage to pull myself out of bed and into the bathroom where I feel somewhat more human after a scalding hot shower. I get dressed and check my phone, only to see that I’ve got a text from Howie telling me he got called into the office and would be home later. I’m not surprised. Ever since his wife passed, the man has thrown himself into his work, eschewing things like taking a holiday.