It didn’t take him long to realize he was a goner; he knew the first morning he woke up next to her. He just hadn’t realized how far and how fast he’d go when it came to her. His dad sat there for a second, inhaling another long drag and slowly blowing it out before he finally answered. “She pretty?”
Rafe laughed. Of all the things his dad could possibly ask, he wanted to know whether she was pretty. Perverted old man. “Yeah, Dad. She’s fucking beautiful.”
“Can she cook?”
“She cooks,” he said, thinking back to the grilled cheese she’d made herself the first morning he spent with her. Whether she could cook a real meal or not he didn’t know.
“She let you hold her while everyone’s lookin’?”
He thought for a moment, back to when he’d pulled her onto his lap when they’d arrived at the cookout. Her body was stiff and he could tell she was uncomfortable. But soon she’d relaxed and curled up against him, holding on tight even when his old wounds were being splintered open by another woman.
And the way she clung to him on the plane today . . . .
“Yeah, Pop. She lets me hold her while everyone’s lookin’.”
“Those are probably the three most important things you can find in a woman.”
His dad’s logic was usually questionable—he was a romantic. “How ya figure?”
“Every man needs to eat. And there ain’t nothing better than a woman who can cook.”
Rafe shook his head. He could think of a few things that were better than a woman who could cook . . . Like a woman who moaned his name while she bit into his shoulder . . . yeah, that was better. And a whole lot sweeter.
“And she ain’t gotta be pretty, son, but it sure doesn’t hurt. But if she lets you hold her while everyone’s watchin’, you know she’ll love you even when everyone’s gone.”
“Yeah? How you figure?”
“There are women, women like your momma, who give their heart freely. She loved in those small moments when everyone was gone, when it was just the two of us. And she loved for everyone to see. But then there are women who guard their heart, women like Tilly. They make a man fight for it, want to make sure he deserves it, can keep it safe. Those women hide their love, protect it themselves. But if she lets you hold her for everyone to see, she’s giving you the chance to earn her love, to protect her heart. You get that, son, she’ll love you in those small moments.” He paused, nodding at Rafe, then continued, “You find a woman who’ll let you hold her when you need her, and you’ve struck gold.”
“Ways of a woman, huh, Pop?”
“Damn right. But you listen here.” He lowered his head and lifted his brows to drive home the importance. “You make sure you hold her when she needs you to. Don’t let that moment come when your arms aren’t around her when she needs them.”
Rafe nodded and remained silent as he watched his dad’s eyes go distant, just as they always did when he was about to talk about his wife.
“You know this already, son. But as hard as it was for me to wake up that morning to your mother”—he paused, clearing his throat from his swelling heartache—“to see her life gone, I knew I was there when she needed me, even if I didn’t realize she did. I was holding my sweetheart. I was holding her in my arms.”
Rafe missed her, always missed her, but it was in these moments when he watched her essence live on in his father’s memory, when he witnessed his father’s permanent sorrow living without the love of his life—that’s when he missed her the most.
Rafe looked at his dad and waited for him to return from his memory before he said, simply, “I know.”
His dad leaned back into his chair, causing it to rock unsteadily, and took a drink from his beer.
“Hey, boys.”
Rafe and his dad both looked up at Tilly, who was standing at the door holding a mug of hot tea.
“Hey, Till.” Rafe smiled.
Tilly waddled to Rafe’s dad and sat down on his lap. “You know who the Giants play today, right?”
“Ah, Till. Please tell me you’re not still cheering on those cheese-head Packers.” Rafe groaned.
“Yep! And all my boys will be here to watch me cheer them on and watch the Packers kick some Giant ass!” she exclaimed way too enthusiastically.
“Watch it—you get too excited, you’ll be having my nephew tonight.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “All right,” she said, slapping Pop’s knee, using it as leverage to heave herself up from his lap. “I’m gonna go see if Marco is done making that cake. You boys need anything?”