“You have a queen-size bed?” she asks, staring at my bed that takes up most of my childhood bedroom.
“I’m a big guy,” I say, holding my arms out to my sides.
“You are,” she says, covering a yawn.
“Tired?” I ask, stepping close and pulling her into my arms.
“Yes. I didn’t sleep well. Actually, not at all. I was too excited to sleep.”
“Me either. How does a nap sound?”
“Can we?”
“Babe, we can do whatever in the hell we want.” I lead her to the bed, pull back the covers, and climb in. She doesn’t hesitate, and within seconds, we’re cuddled up under the warmth of the blankets to ward off the chill of the air conditioning.
“Thank you,” she says sleepily.
“For what?”
“Inviting me. I missed this. I missed you,” she whispers.
“I missed this, and I missed you. More than you know.” I kiss her shoulder and relish the feel of her in my arms. It’s not long before sleep claims us both.
“Mom, no,” I plead.
“What? This is a mother’s right, Ford Gregory.” She winks at Shayne.
“Suck it up, buttercup.” Faith grins.
“Oh, you don’t think I’m not bringing out your baby pictures too? That’s cute.” Mom laughs. “I’ll be right back.”
“Dad, a little help here?” I try, knowing it’s not going to work.
“Son, you know there is no stopping your mother once she gets an idea in her head.”
“Ugh.” I lean my head back against the couch. “Why me?” I say dramatically.
I feel Shayne’s hand on my thigh. “It’s fine. What’s the big deal?”
“I’m trying to woo you,” I say, lifting my head. “I can’t do that with spaghetti face and naked bath-time pictures.”
“She wouldn’t!” Faith exclaims.
“You know she’s pulling out the scrapbooks,” I tell my sister.
“Chad, how about a walk?” Faith suggests.
“Nah, I’m good here.” He slings his arm over her shoulders from his seat next to her on the loveseat.
“Do you think we have time to bail?” I whisper to Shayne.
“I don’t want to. I’m excited to see you as a little boy.”
“Just wait. As soon as I see Joan again, she and I are going to have a chat about baby pictures.”
“There aren’t many,” she says softly.
“That’s fine. I’ll take what I can get. You’re about to be bombarded with my life growing up. The least you can give me is a glimpse of yours.”
She smiles. “Deal.”
“Here we are. Ford, why don’t you sit next to Faith and let me, Shayne, and Chad have the couch.”
At the suggestion, Shayne moves to the far right, and Mom plops down next to her on the middle cushion. I remain seated, refusing to give up my seat.
“Move it, Gregory.” Chad laughs, looming over me.
“Fine.” Begrudgingly, I stand and take the seat he vacated next to Faith.
“Why didn’t we think to hide the pictures?” Faith asks.
“You know Mom. She would have found them regardless. It wouldn’t surprise me if she has duplicates stashed for that very occurrence.”
“Ugh, you’re probably right.”
“Aw, look at the two of them,” Shayne coos.
“Right? Although I am biased.” Mom looks up and smiles at Dad.
And so it goes. The next hour is spent with Mom, Shayne, and Chad looking at pictures of Faith and me growing up. I don’t miss the soft looks that Chad gives my little sister, and I know he sees the same looks that Shayne and I are sharing. For some reason, this feels intimate. Sitting here in my parents’ living room, reminiscing about old times as the girl who is quickly becoming my world, looks at the photographic evidence of our stories.
“I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” Faith stands and looks at me.
“Oh, I guess we should get dinner started,” Mom concedes, closing the scrapbook. It doesn’t matter. She was at the final page anyway.
“Right, Ford and I will fire up the grill.” Faith grabs my hand and pulls me from the loveseat and through the kitchen out the patio door. “We need to talk.”
“What’s up?”
“Chad.”
“What about Chad?”
“I like him.”
“Okay.”
“No. Like I like him like him.”
“Okay.”
“I need you to tell me what you think? If you don’t want me to pursue it, I won’t.”
“That would make me a hypocrite. I am dating his cousin.”
She points at her chest. “Sister.”
“She might as well be his sister.”
“Is he… I mean, is he a good guy? I know he’s your best friend, but I just don’t want to get my heart crushed.”
“He’s a good guy. Not much on relationships, from what I’ve heard, but that doesn’t mean he’s not willing to try. I know for a fact the idea of having someone to come home to appeals to him,” I say, thinking about our conversation a few nights before we returned stateside. “I already told him not to start something with you if he’s not serious.”
“You’re my priority.”
“I love you, Faith. Chad’s a good guy. If you’re interested, see where it goes.”