Mine Would Be You (71)

The voices get louder and deeper, and I already know who it is before they even come into view. My dad and his three best friends from childhood. They, unlike my dad, are actually intimidating. They look like my dad, same stature, various shades of brown skin and bright smiles, when they do smile. They, like my dad, never really liked Myles. And have never seen me bring anyone else home.

“Ah, here he is. The man of the hour,” Uncle Mike—who’s not really my uncle but may as well be—says, a single eyebrow raised as he takes us in with his arms crossed.

Jackson tenses slightly behind me, but doesn’t remove his hand, and I glance back. By the look of it, he’s very unaffected. Aaron and Will give me big smiles, equally eyeing the boy behind me until my dad rolls his eyes and hits Mike on the back of his head.

“Chill out, Mike, for the love of god, she’s not even your daughter.” My dad shakes his head, taking a seat at the table.

Uncle Mike makes a motion with his hands. “I just want an official introduction,” he says.

I smile as I take a sip of my own drink. “Well maybe if you asked nicely, I’d give you one. Kindness is key, Uncle Mike, haven’t you learned that yet?”

Aaron and Will laugh. “God, I’ve missed you, Nina,” Will says and opens his arms. I pat Jackson’s hand and step forward and embrace him and then Aaron and then Mike, who rocks me back and forth.

“It’s good to see you guys. It’s been too long.”

Jackson never takes his eyes off me as he stands there sipping his tea, which one, warms my heart that he’s drinking it at all, and two, his gaze still sends chills down my spine.

I motion to him, and he steps forward, and I grab his hand briefly. “Jackson, this is Mike, Aaron, and Will. My dad’s groupies and the uncles I never asked for. And this is Jackson.” I smile.

Jackson sets his cup down and shakes each of their hands with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you guys, even if you may want to interrogate or kill me.”

They all laugh, and my dad snorts. “See, I told you he was funny.”

I roll my eyes as we stand there chatting for a bit. Uncle Mike, who’s really the only intimidating one, loses the façade way quicker than I expect. He and Jackson actually hit it off. I update them all on the article because if Mom or Dad weren’t around and they were, they were also subject to the Project Runway and Top Model marathons.

Eventually, we end up all sitting at the dining room table and Mike is Jackson’s new biggest fan. Aaron and Will right behind him. They laugh about basketball and sports. He even talks art with Aaron, who’s been collecting since he was in college. My dad chimes in every once in a while, but I feel my father’s gaze on me, and I know he’s watching me watch Jackson.

Watch Jackson seamlessly fit into my life like there was always a space for him.

I turn to look at him. The sun is lower in the sky now, peeking through the kitchen window and setting a warm glow over the room, and my dad gives me a knowing smile.

Normally, I’d want to run and hide, but I’m in far too deep to care anymore. He leans over and pats my leg. “Proud of you.”

I furrow my brows. “For what?”

“For just being you. Not settling for less than you deserve and chasing your dreams. I’m just—I’m proud of you.”

A smile breaks across my face, and I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you more, kiddo.” He winks, but then stands and claps. “Come on, boys, I’m in the mood to school y’all in some street ball.”

All their heads turn towards my dad, and the energy shifts immediately. For kind of being old, their competitive and childish spirits haven’t left the building. They used to cause trouble when they were younger, and I have no doubt they’ll continue to. Jackson chuckles as they exit the kitchen, and I stand up, reaching my hand out.

He grips my hand in his and I smile up at him, his eyes warming when I do, and I can’t wait to show him the house. The place I existed and grew up in without him and hopefully get to make new memories in with him. I drag him through the house, ready to spend some time alone with him until real life comes knocking again, like it always does.




Jackson



Nina’s childhood bedroom is somehow both exactly what I imagined and totally different.

There are collages all over the walls, outfits, clothes, old-fashioned magazine covers and quotes all taped and glued together. I take another sip of the sweet tea she made me. It’s not Mom’s, no one will ever touch my mom’s, but this is Nina’s.

It’s good. Really. And the fact that she went out of her way to make it for me makes it even better. I set it down as she climbs up onto the window seat and crosses her legs.

“What are we doing up here?” I ask her, the sounds of her family’s Labor Day party reaching us all the way up here. It’s loud and inviting and a welcome distraction from what’s happening in my life.

She shrugs, meeting my eyes. She never used to do that. Always finding something else to look at or focus on. But not anymore. “I just wanted a minute alone with you.”

I nod and take a seat next to her. Instantly, because I need the comfort, I grab her hand and pull her closer until she’s situated with her back against the wall next to the open window and her legs draped over my lap with my hand on her thigh. Hesitation shines in Nina’s eyes.