And it’s going to stop now.
“You don’t have to worry about anything or make any decisions right now. You just focus on meeting your grandson, and I’ll take care of everything else.”
He looks back to me, and I see the relief in his eyes.
Bob is a proud man, but he’s also a realist. He might not have to worry about money, due to Jonny’s trust, but taking care of a teenager is a whole other ball game.
And I pretty much have things worked out in my head. I just have to get everyone else to agree. I know I said to Denny and Tom that we needed to take this slowly, and I intend on doing that—well, kind of.
I’ve never been one to mess around. When I want something, I make sure it happens.
But this is delicate, and I have to consider other people—like my family, first and foremost.
Thankfully, I have the one person I need behind me—Tru. We sat down and talked last night before I left. Tru had known what I wanted to do before I even said it. I love that she just gets me. And I also love her for agreeing with my plan.
And my plan is to bring Jonny’s kid home with me.
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“We’re here,” Dave says from the front of the car as he brings us to a stop outside Marie’s Country Bakery.
I start to feel something I haven’t felt in a long time as I stare out the window at the bakery—nerves. Nerves are something I just don’t do. But this is Jonny’s kid. He’s important.
The store is nice, and it’s quiet from the looks of things.
I can see straight inside, thanks to the glass front, and I see shitloads of cakes and pastries.
Tru would be in heaven here. Maybe I should get something to take home for her and the kids.
First things first though…
I pull my ball cap and sunglasses from my jacket pockets and put them on. Right now is a time I could do without being recognized.
“You ready?” I ask Bob.
“As I’ll ever be.” He gives me a nod.
We all get out of the car at the same time. We don’t hang about in the street. We head straight inside. A bell dings as I push open the door. Bob and Dave follow behind me.
A red-haired woman is standing behind the counter with a smile on her face, but it quickly fades.
It’s not the usual response I get from women.
I’m guessing that she’s Marie. And I’m also guessing that she’s realized who we are.
Why she has any reason to be unhappy with us, I have no clue.
If anyone should be unhappy, it’s Bob. He’s missed out on thirteen years of his grandson’s life.
Then again, her best friend is dying. I can’t see that I would have a lot to be happy about, if it were me.
“I’m Jake Wethers,” I say as I step up to the counter. “And this is Bob Creed. We’re here to see Tiffany.”
“I know who you are.” She stares at me for a long moment. Then, she nods in the direction of my ball cap and sunglasses, as if telling me it’s an ineffective disguise.
I pull the cap and sunglasses off, putting them back in my pocket.
“I’m Marie, Tiffany’s best friend. Tiffany’s upstairs. Just let me close the shop, and I’ll take you upstairs to her.”
We stand and wait while she comes out from behind the counter. She turns the Closed sign on the door and locks up.
“Follow me,” she says—well, more like orders.
Taking a deep breath, I usher Bob to go first, and we all silently follow Marie into the back of the shop, then through a door, and up a flight of stairs.
When we reach the small landing at the top of the stairs, Marie opens the door, taking us into the hallway of what I’m guessing is Tiffany and Storm’s apartment.
“I’ll wait out here,” Dave tells me, taking up his position on the landing outside the door.
I give him a nod before Marie closes the door on him.
She turns to face Bob and me. “Tiffany is in the living room,” she says in a hushed tone. “Don’t do anything to upset her.”
I part my lips to speak, but Bob beats me to it.
“We’re not here to upset Tiffany, Marie. We’re just here to talk about my grandson,” Bob tells her in a gentle manner while I grit my teeth.
She looks at Bob and then me. For some reason, her eyes narrow on me.
What the fuck have I done?
Then, she looks back to Bob, and her face relaxes a little. “I’ll take you through,” she says to Bob in a tone sounding a little nicer than before.
We walk down the hall and into a small living room. And on a chair by the window is Tiffany.
“Tiffany, Bob and Jake are here to see you.”
She looks straight at me. I see the familiarity come to life in her eyes, but I know it’s not in mine because I don’t recognize her.
It’s been years—I know it has—and of course, she wouldn’t look the same. I can see that the cancer has ravaged her body. She looks frail. And I assume the headscarf she’s wearing is to cover the loss of her hair.
If I’m being totally honest, I didn’t think I would recognize her. But a part of me hoped I would, so I could tell myself that my life wasn’t as fucked up as I remembered it to be.
Clearly, it was.
I force myself to smile at her. I know it’s as awkward as I feel.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” There’s no malice or distaste in her tone. She’s just plainly stating a fact.
“I don’t. I’m sorry.” I shake my head.