The number eleven between his brow deepens. He doesn’t look happy to meet me at all, but I step forward and do as I’ve been told.
“Hello.” I smile and try to look cute, whatever that means. Maybe I should pull on my pigtail and twirl it a little like my mom does her hair. While I’m trying to work out what a good girl would actually do in this situation because I try hard to be a good girl, but I usually get it wrong. So I’m not really paying attention to the man, not until he’s hunkered down in front of me. He’s still big—as big as a bear. And his face has creases, though not so many as Nana, and his eyebrows are like fuzzy caterpillars. I don’t like the way he looks at me, but I know I shouldn’t say so.
“Hell, Tina,” he mutters, his black eyes flicking over my head. “She looks more like me than my real kids.”
It doesn’t make much sense to me at the moment, but it turns out to be a phrase that will stay with me for the next twenty years.
25
Roman
PRESENT
SEXY PIRATE
“Last stair, darl. Alley-oop.”
Up close, Ursula is a lot frailer than she appears, her legs like wobbling stick pins on the wooden stairs. “Thank you, dear.” She pats my arm and smiles, her cheeks wrinkling so deeply that her eyes almost disappear. “You’re such a good boy.”
“Don’t forget to tell Kennedy that.”
“Oh, she knows,” she says, taking a wobbling step across the decking. “She knows in her heart at least.”
“Yeah, but it’s that thick head of hers that’s causing me aggro.”
“Sorry, dear?” She pauses and turns her head over her shoulder to peer at me.
“Nothing. I was just talking to myself.”
“I get all my best answers that way.”
Our chuckles are interrupted by the creak of the screen door.
“What are you doing here?” Kennedy’s unhappy sounding voice reaches us as it swings open.
“I’m here to look after Wilder, dear.” The old dear’s eyes blink innocently. “So you can go out with your gentleman caller. Remember you called and asked because Annie’s daughter was busy.”
“Yes, thank you, I do remember, Miss Ursula. I was just wondering what he’s doing here.”
“I just thought I might hang with Wilder for a bit.”
So much for the bridge we seemed to build earlier today in pissing off her mum. She’d looked so frozen, like she’d wanted to react but couldn’t let herself. It made me want to protect her, to shield her with my body and my words. Granted, my words weren’t very polite, especially to use with my mother-in-law. She’s lucky I was behaving. That and I had Wilder back to the coffee shop—all in one piece and with a smile as wide as a slice of watermelon—before the stipulated time. I expected friction but maybe not so much glaring.
“I don’t know that’s such a good idea.”
“Mom, I invited him,” Wilder calls from somewhere inside.
“Oh.” She looks a little crestfallen. I get it. It must be tough for her to adjust to. I mean, I know it’s early days, but we’ve taken to each other like a pair of ducks take to water. And he calls me dad, which feels fucking huge. It was like being doused by a waterfall of pure happiness the first time.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” she says quietly, trying to cut out the kid.
“Oh, but it is, Kennedy dear. Roman here is going to help me with my knitting.
“Since when have you been a knitter?” Kennedy asks, not without suspicion. “I mean, I didn’t know.” She smiles one of those coffee-shop smiles, the kind that don’t reach her eyes.
“It’s a recent hobby, dear. One cultivated when I realised the click-clack of the needles annoys Betty so much, she ups and leaves the room. She’s a TV remote hog,” she imparts in a hush as though reluctant to speak ill of her sister. “And then I get to watch my shows in peace. While I knit!” She smiles, all powdery dimples, giving her elbow and her knitting bag a shake.
“I’m an excellent yarn holder. I love a good yarn, me.” Though admittedly, I prefer the kind that happens over a beer at the pub.
“Big hands.” Ursula’s bony fingers curl around my wrist, so I hold it up.
Remember these, little love? Remember how good they feel on you?
And I reckon she does remember by the way she has to drag her eyes away.
“You need a new watch,” Kennedy responds with, her eyes flicking to my old Breitling again. I thought I’d be hiking.
Once inside, Ursula’s bony fingers wiggle in Wilder pre-hug anticipation. “How is it you get taller and better looking every time I see you?”
“Maybe because you’re getting older all the time?” He blinks innocently. “You’re probably shrinking. And maybe you need new glasses.”