My brain rebels against this. “They won’t.”
“But they have to,” she says, her voice gentle as she turns to face me. “I know you’ve got your whole bachelor thing right now, and that’s great, but you’ll fall in love someday. You’re too good of a guy not to. And how do you think that woman’s going to feel about being number two in your life?”
I open my mouth. Then shut it. I can’t imagine another girl replacing Parker.
But then, neither can I imagine my future eventual girlfriend, or wife, or whatever, being completely thrilled if I tell her that Parker comes first.
“Exactly,” Sandra says kindly, seeing the second I put the pieces together. “Your friendship with Parker won’t fade, per say, but i
t will change. I want her to have that perfect guy for whom she’ll always be number one. The one who will drop everything for her. Who will die for her.”
I open my mouth, but for the life of me, I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what I feel.
“Oh God,” she says, putting a hand over her mouth and letting out a little laugh. A gesture that makes her look just like her daughter. “Sorry. Sorry, Ben. I don’t mean to get…I bet you’re thinking I sound like a fuddy-duddy old person.”
I force a smile.
“It’s a mom thing,” she says, patting my arm in apology. “We fret. I don’t mean for a single second to imply that you’ve been anything but a wonderful friend to my daughter and that you won’t always be that friend for her.”
I pick up my beer again, tilting it back as I wait for my thoughts to sort themselves out into something that I can at least half-comprehend.
They don’t.
She claps her hands together. “Now, what did I do with those oven mitts? I think those baked potatoes are just about done, don’t you?”
The back door opens, and Parker steps through holding a foil-covered plate. “Steaks are ready, girls!”
She grins at me, but her smile slips just slightly when she sees me, and she tilts her head as though to say You okay?
I mentally shake myself and force a grin in response. I’m good.
Except I’m not good. Not at all.
I can’t help but think about that moment that Mrs. Blanton is talking about.
The one where Parker and I have found people more important to us than each other.
And I don’t like it at all.
Chapter 21
Parker
Whatever weirdness crawled up Ben’s butt while I was out on the deck with my dad has disappeared by the time we get to dessert: a delicious, locally made marionberry pie with vanilla ice cream, of which I have two pieces and don’t feel even remotely guilty about it.
By the time we finish the dishes and my parents have headed to bed, I’m feeling the most content I have in a long time.
“Want to start a puzzle?” I ask.
Ben groans. “You and your puzzles. How about a walk on the beach?”
I glance outside skeptically. “You mean, walk on a pitch-black beach next to the angry Pacific Ocean in forty-degree weather in the rain?” I ask.
He grins. “Yes. Exactly.”
“I’m in.”
Five minutes later, we’re covered head to toe, me in the big college sweatshirt I’ve confiscated from him, and Ben in his black fleece pullover. We make the short walk to the beach, and thankfully the rain seems to have tapered off to little more than a faint mist.