Author: Colleen Hoover
Category: Romance
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/50069_17
I just wish they’d warn me before they show up. Maybe I should download a GPS app to their phones so I’ll have some kind of warning in the future. Not that I don’t like their visits. It would just be nice to be able to prepare for them.
This is why I’m building a privacy gate at my new house.
Eventually.
It’s slow going because Roman and I are doing a lot of the work ourselves. Every Sunday from sunup until sundown, I drive up to Cheshire Ridge with Roman and we work on it. I contract out for the more difficult stuff, but we’ve completed a good chunk of the build ourselves. After two years of Sundays, the house is finally starting to come together. I’m maybe six months from moving in.
“Where are you going?”
I spin around when I reach the garage door. My father is standing outside the guest bedroom. He’s in his underwear.
“Diem has T-ball. You guys want to come?”
“Nope. Too hungover for kids today, and we really need to get back on the road.”
“You’re already leaving?”
“We’ll be back in a few weeks.” My father gives me a hug. “Your mother is still asleep, but I’ll tell her you said bye.”
“Maybe give me a heads-up before the next visit and I’ll take off work.”
My father shakes his head. “Nah, we like seeing the surprise on your face when we show up unannounced.” He heads into the bathroom and closes the door.
I walk through the garage and toward Patrick and Grace’s house across the street.
I’m hoping Diem isn’t in a talkative mood because my concentration is going to be shit today. All I can think about is the girl from last night and how much I want to see her again. I wonder if it would be weird if I left a note on her door?
I knock on Patrick and Grace’s front door and then walk in. We’re all back and forth at each other’s houses so much, at one point we got tired of saying, “It’s open.” It’s always open.
Grace is in the kitchen with Diem. Diem is sitting in the center of the table with her legs crossed and a bowl of eggs on her lap. She never sits in chairs. She’s always on top of things, like the back of the couch, the kitchen bar, the kitchen table. She’s a climber.
“You’re still in your pajamas, D.” I take the bowl of eggs from her and point down the hallway. “Get dressed, we gotta go.” She runs to her room to put on her T-ball uniform.
“I thought the game was at ten,” Grace says. “I would have had her ready.”
“It is, but I’ve got Gatorade duty, so I have to run by the store, and then I have to swing by and pick up Roman.” I lean against the counter and grab a tangerine. I peel it open while Grace starts the dishwasher.
She blows a piece of hair out of her face. “She wants a swing set,” she says. “One of those ridiculously big ones like the one you used to have in your backyard. Her friend Nyla from school got one, and you know we can’t say no. It’ll be her fifth birthday.”
“I still have it.”
“You do? Where?”
“It’s in the shed in pieces, but I can help Patrick put it back together. Shouldn’t be too hard.”
“You think it’s still in good shape?”
“Was when I took it apart.” I fail to tell her Scotty is the reason I took it apart. I got angry every time I looked at it after he died.
I put another piece of tangerine in my mouth and reroute my thoughts. “I can’t believe she’ll be five.”
Grace sighs. “I know. Unreal. Unfair.”
Patrick pops into the kitchen and tousles my hair like I’m not almost thirty and three inches taller than him. “Hey, kid.” He reaches around me and grabs one of the tangerines. “Did Grace tell you we can’t make the game today?”
“I haven’t yet,” Grace says. She rolls her eyes, her annoyed gaze landing on me. “My sister is in the hospital. Elective surgery, she’s fine, but we have to drive to her house and feed her cats.”
“What’s she getting done this time?”
Grace waves a hand at her face. “Something with her eyes. Who knows? She’s five years older than me, but looks ten years younger.”
Patrick covers Grace’s mouth. “Stop. You’re perfect.” Grace laughs and shoves his hand away.
I’ve never seen them fight. Not even when Scotty was a kid. My parents bicker a lot, and it’s mostly in fun, but I’ve never even seen Grace and Patrick bicker in the twenty years I’ve known them.
I want that. Someday. I don’t have time for it yet, though. I work too much and feel like I’m slowly running myself into the ground. I need to make a change if I ever want to keep a girl long enough to have what Patrick and Grace have.