“Drika…I want this so desperately.” I looked up at her like a child. “I think about it all the time. We could live together. We could make it work. We could have such a beautiful, wonderful home, and I’d make a garden of his life.”
“You will, Chris.” She put her warm hands on my face, her motherly touch calming me. “You already have.”
* * * *
That evening, I sat with Roy and Shirley in my living room, trying to follow their conversation, but constantly checking the window behind my armchair for Hank’s rental car. Hank and his father were over an hour late. In the hall behind us, Troy was crashing the remote control car Roy had bought him into my furniture or walls. My nerves were tight, but I did my best to conceal my anxiety.
Hank would call any minute now, I was sure of it. He’d tell me that they’d caught some traffic at the border and were running a little behind. There was no need to get myself worked up.