Starting From the Top (Starting from 5)

That didn’t stop me from trying. I spent every free night with him at his house or mine. We’d make dinner together, play with my dog or his cat, and talk about everything and nothing at all. Kids, pets, stars, bars, places we should go and people we wished we could meet. Sometimes, his bandmates joined us for a beer or stayed to grill burgers. Was it awkward? Well…not really. They were easygoing, good guys who loved him like a brother.

Tegan was the only one I knew well. We’d been friends longer than we’d been lovers and truthfully, we’d had more of an understanding than a true relationship. He hadn’t been part of my life the way Johnny was. I’d given him the CliffsNotes version of me and was careful to keep him separate from my kids because I didn’t know how to share what mattered to me most.

Tegan’s reaction hadn’t really surprised me. He’d waited until we were halfway through a workout session to grill me…or warn me.

He’d stood behind me, spotting me while I lifted and blurted, “You know that I know, so let’s get this out of the way. Don’t hurt him. Johnny doesn’t trust easy. And…he’s already let you in, so be careful.”

I’d nodded, Tegan had changed the subject, and that was that.

I had to admit, his warning stuck with me, though. He’s already let you in, so be careful. For a guy who’d made it a policy not to let anyone in, I was both alarmed and honored at the same time. I wanted to be on the inside with him, but reciprocating didn’t come naturally to me. My walls were too thick, and my rules were ironclad. I was a human fortress designed to protect those important to me. My kids.

But, here’s the thing. Johnny had become important to Parker and Penny.

They loved him. He was so damn good to them. Guitar lessons turned into Lego-building and nail-painting and movie-watching. He never gave the impression that he was doing me a favor or that he couldn’t wait to move on to something else. He genuinely liked being with them. Sometimes I sensed that he was taking notes, reliving a piece of childhood he’d been denied. Like a second chance…without melancholy or unwanted ghosts. Whatever it was, I was grateful.

Penny was her usual exuberant self and Parker was…happy. Really happy. He smiled more often, engaged in family discussions without having to be drawn in, and when his nose wasn’t buried in a science book, he spent a lot of time practicing guitar. But the thing I loved most was that he’d actually started talking to me. Not about feelings or friendships, which was fine.…I didn’t talk about those things either. For now, I was pathetically pleased when he initiated conversations.

Even if it was just about breakfast.

“I’m going to make scrambled eggs,” Parker announced, pulling the refrigerator door open.

I glanced up from my post in front of the coffee machine and did a double take. He looked like he’d grown in the middle of the night. He seemed taller and if possible, a bit more self-confident. It was in the tilt of his chin and the set of his shoulders.

Or maybe I needed more caffeine.

I mumbled a barely audible “Mmhmm,” then leaned against the counter and observed as our usual Friday morning routine unfolded. Penny rubbing sleep from her eyes as she shuffled toward the island, Parker pulling ingredients from the fridge, Lullah lying in wait near his feet, hoping for scraps. It would be quiet for a few minutes until Penny was fully awake and made it her mission to fill the silence. I relished mornings like this when I knew I wouldn’t see them for a few days.

Our schedule was already wonky this week. Fiona had a business meeting out of town and had asked to switch days. I’d usually keep the kids for the weekend, but since I had plans to go to the desert, I’d see them on Tuesday. My mind wandered into the following week…meetings I had on my calendar, calls I had to make. I reminded myself to check in with Garrett even though I knew he had Vibes under control. The new hires were working out well and…

“Yum. I love scrambled eggs. Will you make me some too? Pretty please, Parker,” Penny cajoled, hopping on a barstool at the kitchen island.

Parker rolled his eyes, sending a lock of his blond hair into his eyes. “Sure. Sunny-side up for you.”

“Scrambled. I don’t like drippy eggs. Want me to help?” Penny asked sleepily.

“No, I got this.” He pulled a carton of eggs out and glanced over. “Do you want eggs, Dad?”

I froze mid-sip, then raised my coffee mug. “This is my breakfast. Thank you, though.”

Now, here’s how things usually worked…Parker would grunt and turn to his chore while Penny filled in the ensuing silence with chatter. Sometimes I wondered if she felt the need to manage the tension with monologues to entertain us. That was a lot of pressure for an average nine-year-old. I think she preferred to take over rather than listen to my stilted attempts at drawing Parker out of his shell.