Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Alvin grew pensive, suddenly looking way more like Ben, and he turned back to me. “Could my dad come too?”
“Of course,” I said. “And your grandma if she wants. My folks love visitors.” Only half a lie. Ma would be over the moon for these specific visitors if it meant her son was finally in a relationship.
Ben and my dad had only met in passing, but I knew they’d get along great.
“I’m gonna talk to Rose,” Alvin decided.
At that, Ben reacted. He furrowed his brow. Confusion, surprise, and wariness flitted by in one swoop. And I could, for once in my fucking life, practically read his mind. Maybe the option of seeing the ocean hadn’t existed before, so he wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation. Maybe he was surprised Alvin would even consider it; he’d told me about his son’s inability to even go through with a sleepover at a friend’s house, and that was in Elmwood Park. And last but not least, I bet he was thinking ahead. It was another thing he’d shared. Ben had to be two steps ahead to consider ramifications and things that could go wrong.
But I was a man of my word, and if Alvin wanted to see Florida, I’d make sure it happened. I wasn’t just talking out of my ass.
Unbeknownst to Ben, I’d talked to Scottie and Tina. I mean, I’d kept shit casual and hypothetical, but yeah, I’d asked about the hardships of having a kid with special needs. And I didn’t have to worry as much about the jargon with them. They knew I meant well.
I was ready to show Ben I was in it for the long haul—and that I knew it wasn’t always gonna be sunshine and roses.
True to his word, Alvin ate his entire meal, plus the leftovers of our appetizers. I didn’t fucking know where he put it all. He just grinned and said he took advantage every time they were in a restaurant. Apparently, he loved steakhouse food, bar food, all things fried, so…he’d come to the right place.
While Alvin and Ben whispered something to each other, Elsie filled me in about their birthday traditions. That was when they ate out, though they’d “missed” Ben’s last three birthdays. In other words, Ben had come up with an excuse to get out of it, presumably because he hadn’t been able to afford restaurant dining.
I felt for him. He’d fought for so fucking long. Was it wrong that I wanted to take care of him? More than that, I just…wanted to share everything with him. He’d made me crave something that wasn’t the Clover.
“Excuse us for one moment,” Ben said with a smirk. “Alvin wants to check out the arcade games.”
Yeah, no problem. “If you beat Adam’s top score, I’ll give you free desserts for a year,” I told the kid.
Alvin beamed. “I will give it a go!”
Ben chuckled and slid out of the booth after his boy. “I should warn you, he’s got a competitive streak.”
“Which he got from you,” Elsie pointed out.
“Even better,” I replied. “There are tokens under the register behind the bar. Grab at least ten of them and consider that my investment toward Adam’s downfall. He’s infuriatingly good at pinball.” We only had four games, and pinball was the one that annoyed me the most.
“We’ll see if it’s necessary,” Ben decided. “Son, you want your headphones?”
Alvin hesitated. “Maybe that’s best. I want to concentrate.”
Definitely a competitive streak. I liked that.
Ben grabbed the headphones, and I watched them head toward the other end of the bar, Alvin remaining close to his old man the whole way.
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell me to behave,” Elsie noted.
I cracked a grin. “Would you have listened?”
“Of course not,” she laughed. “My son’s in love for the first time, and it appears to be reciprocated.” She eyed me over the rims of her glasses, and my stomach tightened with nerves. Holy fuck, she just put that out there like we were discussing the damn weather. “I have questions.”
Yeah, so did I, Mama O’Cleary.
“Uh, is he?” I had to ask first.
She lifted a brow. “Is that not clear? And before you answer, it’s a genuine question because he can be so dim-witted. Talking isn’t his favorite, especially when it comes to feelings.”
I scratched my jaw and glanced over at the arcade corner. “We’re both pretty bad at that, but I think I’ve gotten better at reading him. He shows me more than he tells.”
She nodded in understanding. “Then I have faith in you. He speaks in his own language, much like Alvin.”
That felt absurdly good to hear. Like, butterflies-in-my-stomach kind of good. Holy shit.
“So how do I give off the reciprocating vibe?” I wondered.
She laugh-snorted and promptly covered her mouth with a hand. “Sorry.”
What the hell?
I grinned, half confused. Was my question that weird?