Fortuity (Transcend 3)

“Is…” she clears her throat “…there anything else I can do to make your time here less stressful, Professor Hunt? Different clothes? A different shade of lip gloss?”

Fisting my hand at my mouth, I snort a laugh. “I’m kidding.”

“Jerk.” She shoves my arm, and I sway to the side a bit.

“Well, you offered.”

“I was being nice.”

“By offering something you weren’t really going to do?”

Gracelyn rubs the smile from her face. “I was being…” she drums the pads of her fingers on her lips “…agreeable. Likable.”

“A liar.” I nudge her leg with mine.

“I didn’t expect you to call my bluff. Has anyone ever called you rude?”

“Never.” I grin.

“Dad!” Morgan throws the towel from her head and runs toward us. “Can Gabe stay for dinner?”

“Why?” I brush sand from her cheek.

“I can’t tell you. Just say yes.”

“Why?” I grab her and hug her back to my chest, nuzzling my scruffy face in her neck.

She tries to wriggle out of my hold. “Daddy!” She giggles. “Stop! I just want Gabe to stay for dinner.”

Gabe trudges through the sand, carrying the towels and the umbrella. “She wants me to make her an avatar on this game.”

“Gabriel Guacamole! I told you to not say anything or my dad would say no.”

“Guacamole?” Gracelyn and I ask at the same time.

“Jinx!” Morgan yells. “You both said guacamole at the same time.”

Gabe rolls his eyes. “She thinks my last name sounds like guac.”

“Not nice, Morgan.” I narrow my eyes at her.

“It’s just for fun. He called Mr. Hans Huge Hands. And Mr. Hans calls Gracelyn Elvis. Sometimes you call me Squirt, which is gross because I heard Rocco saying he got the squirts from bad sushi. Basically, you’re calling me the S-word that ends in H-I-T when you call me Squirt. So Gabriel Guacamole can’t be bad, Dad. We love guac. Right?”

I’ve created a monster. A ten-year-old, too-smart-for-her-own-good monster. Gracelyn covers her mouth to hide her grin, but I don’t miss her shoulders bouncing in silent laughter.

Gabe shrugs. “I like guacamole. It’s fine. But watch out … I’ll think of a name for you.” He shoots Morgan an evil glare that makes the smile on her face swell by a hundred percent.

“Now, we just need to find a special nickname for your dad.” Gracelyn twists her lips, squinting at me. “Hmm …”

“Nate. That’s his nickname. It’s no fun, but he only lets certain people call him Nate. Can they call you Nate?” Morgan gets in my face, sucking up the oxygen and staring me down with googly eyes. “Huh? Huh? Can they?”

“Nah. Nathaniel is best.”

“Well …” Gracelyn slaps her hands onto her legs just before standing. “Nate it is.” She winks at me. “Until I can find something even better.”

Great. How did two grown-ass adults get tangled in childish name calling? And why does it give me pleasure to know she’ll be giving me and my nickname so much thought? Maybe because she reminds me of my wife. And I miss my wife. That void feels as empty today as it felt a decade ago. I don’t want to spend my life in mourning, but I also don’t want to replace her space in my heart. I gave it to her. It will always be hers.

“So, yes or no to Gabe staying for dinner?”

My daughter likes to put me on the spot. We need to discuss her poor social etiquette. I’m sure it will earn me a few hard eye rolls and maybe even a “whatevs” or two.

“Fine. Gabe can stay for dinner, but I don’t want this to turn into hours staring at a screen. We have games you guys can play that don’t involve staring at a screen.”

“Boring …” Morgan frowns at Gabe, but he just nods his head slowly. “I like games. We used to play games on New Year’s Eve.”

“You only say that because you always get to be on your phone. Some of us don’t have phones,” she mumbles.

Again, Gracelyn snickers, masking it as a cough.

“I’ll send him home by eight,” I say.

Gracelyn nods. “Eight is good.”

“Nine, Dad! It’s summer vacation.”

“Your whole life has been a summer vacation, Squirt.” I quirk an eyebrow at her.

“So not fair. Come on, Guac, we can play the game on your tablet until Dad’s done making dinner.” She stomps up the stairs, and he follows her like a meek animal. The boy has time to grow a pair, but he’d better get started if he has a prayer of standing up to all the strong-willed Morgans in the world.

“Any allergies I need to know about?” I ask after the kids escape into the house.

Gracelyn’s eyes widen. “Um …”

“You’re Gabe’s guardian now and you don’t know if he has any allergies?”

“Well, he’s still alive, and we’ve had many different kinds of food: wheat, dairy, nuts, shellfish. I think he’s good. Feel free to ask him. Let me know if he discloses any allergies to you. I’ll make a note of it for future reference.”