Page 15 of Fun Together (Make Romance #1)

Eli

My dad stares at the giant old oak tree in my parents’ backyard like it’s an enemy he’s been trying for years to defeat. He slowly marches around the trunk, scratching at his beard in deep thought. He’s always had that beard, although now it’s completely gray.

He’s been at it for twenty minutes. “Do I need to leave you two alone for a bit?”

He jabs a finger at the tree. “Today is the day.” He bends down to pick up a squiggly flower thing, and tosses it at me. “I can’t keep scooping these things out of the pool.”

“You’re not cutting the whole thing down, are you?” This tree and I have shared some great memories together. Like in third grade, when I tried to climb it and broke my arm falling from the big branch that hangs out over the yard.

“No, this tree is older than God. I’d never cut it down.” He looks up and points. “Just that branch hanging over the pool.”

The pool is a newly installed gift he got my mom for their big anniversary.

He pretends it was something he did for her begrudgingly, but we all know he secretly loves having something to tinker with.

I haven’t even had a chance to swim in it because he’s convinced the chemicals aren’t quite right yet.

“Shouldn’t you get a professional to cut it down?” Normally I’m all for trying something new, but I’m not sure I’m ready to venture into the tree-trimming business. “Or at the very least, Emmett might be a better help than me. He’s at least used a power tool before.”

“Nah, I watched a few YouTube videos.” My dad goes by the “why pay someone to do it when you can do it yourself” way of living. “And Emmett was busy today,” he adds.

He moves the ladder next to the base of the tree closest to where the branch hangs over. “You get up on the ladder and I’ll hand you the trimmer.”

I climb up the ladder, and he hands me the tool he’s rigged with some kind of extension that allows for further reach. I see another broken arm in my future. “Do I just start chopping at the branch? What if it falls on my head?”

“Oh shit, hang on. I’ve got a hard hat here somewhere.”

He disappears by the side of the house, but I hear him rummaging around in the garage. He comes back with a purple bicycle helmet.

“Thought I had one, but I think I let your brother borrow it for his kitchen demo.” He tosses the helmet up to me. It’s covered in sparkly star stickers and has Evie’s name written in Sharpie marker on the inside of it. “This’ll do just fine.”

“You sure about that?” I put the helmet on my head, but since it’s obviously not made for a grown adult, it just perches on top. I can buckle the straps, but barely. “I think OSHA might think otherwise.”

“The branch won’t fall on you. It’ll go into the pool.”

From this angle, the branch looks even more large and menacing.

I have flashbacks to when I fell from it.

“And we meet again.” I look back down at the ground and try to imagine what a professional would do in this situation.

“How heavy do you think this thing is? Won’t it just crash into the water and make a big mess? ”

Dad snaps his fingers in the air. “Ah, good thinking. Let me find the pool cover.”

I hear the sounds of more digging in the garage. This time, he comes out dragging a big blue tarp behind him.

“Forgot we hadn’t bought the cover yet, but this will work.” He spreads the tarp over the top of the pool. “Alright, give her a good chop, son.”

I turn the trimmer on and start by cutting a tiny off-shoot from the main branch to see what happens. It floats down, and lands quietly onto the tarp.

“See? This’ll be easy,” he encourages.

Feeling more confident now, I drive the trimmer into the base of the branch. Since it’s pretty thick, this might take a while. My shoulders are already starting to burn, but I power through. I pause to take a look at how far I’ve gotten, because it feels like it could fall at any minute.

But I’ve only cut about an inch into it.

“What on earth are you two doing?”

I lower the trimmer slowly and rest it on top of the ladder. “I thought you said she was out running errands,” I whisper down to my dad.

He shrugs apologetically. “You know I can’t keep up with her.”

“Hey, Mom. How are you today?” I smile down at her in the way that usually gets me out of trouble.

She pulls her sunglasses on top of head and glares at me. “Eli Thomas Miller, get down from that ladder.”

The smile has never worked on her.

My dad turns to her. “Patti, you said that you wished there was a way to keep the pool from getting so dirty.”

She gives him an exasperated look. “So, you’ve got our son up on a ladder risking life and limb?”

“He’s doing a great job. Look, he’s almost done.

” My head darts back and forth between the two of them like I’m watching a verbal tennis match.

I decide it’s best not to interject that I’m not even close to being done.

Right now, the branch looks like it’s been poked at a few times by the world’s tiniest axe.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.

“We can call somebody to do this. It’s dangerous,” she says.

“Mom, it’s fine. See?” I knock my knuckles against the side of the helmet. “Safety first.”

She shakes her head, and I vaguely hear them talking in the background while I check to see who has texted me.

Faye: Hey coach, you busy this weekend?

I take a selfie and send it to her.

“We need to take a break anyway,” my dad says. This is definitely his way of admitting defeat without actually admitting defeat.

I climb down from the ladder, careful not to accidentally trim one of my own limbs off.

“Are you hungry?” Mom holds up a white paper bag. “I have hot dogs.”

We head inside and she lays the food out on the kitchen island. I grab a hot dog and some fries and head into the dining room but stop short when I see a bunch of stuff piled up on the dining table. “Why does it look like Party City threw up in here?”

“Evie,” she says bluntly. “She’s getting a little carried away with this party planning.”

“Sounds like typical Evie to me.”

Her brows furrow in concern. “Maybe, she seems . . . off.”

“Breakups are tough,” I say, taking a bite of the hot dog.

“Breakup? I didn’t know about a breakup.” Oh no. I mentally prepare for Evie’s wrath when she finds out I broke this news to Mom. “Steve, did you know about Evie’s breakup?”

Dad mumbles through a mouthful of food, “Never liked the kid.”

“Still, poor Evie-bear.” She takes her phone out of her purse. “I should call her.”

“She seemed okay about it when we played tennis the other day,” I say, hoping to hold her off for now.

“You’re right, she’s resilient. I’m sure she’s fine.” She pats my arm. “And how are things with you?”

I tell her about how the job has been going, about Andrew jetting off to the Netherlands.

“How’s the apartment hunt going?”

So far, I’ve looked at two places in my price range where I’d have to either live with five other people or become well-acquainted with a colony of mold spores. “Not great. Unless you want me to contract a permanent respiratory illness in exchange for having your basement back.”

“You’ll find something,” she says for what feels like the millionth time. “Any other news?” my mom asks nonchalantly, while she dips a fry in ketchup.

“Like what?”

“Evie told me you aren’t dating.”

There are no secrets in this family. Now I don’t feel as bad about spilling the news about her breakup. “Is that a concern?”

“Well, honey, you’re about to turn twenty-seven.”

“And?”

“You just seem lost. Now that you’re back home, I’d like to see you settled.”

Settling down and doing the whole marriage and two-point-three kids or whatever has always been some vague idea of my future that I’ve never spent much time considering.

But she’s right that I’m not getting any younger.

The pressure hits me suddenly. Where am I going to live? Say I meet someone tomorrow that brings this fuzzy future into focus. What are they going to think when I tell them I live at home with my parents, or that I’ve never been in a serious relationship before?

“One thing at a time, Mom.” My mom means well, but I don’t know how to tell her that all of the things she’s suggesting I do feel impossible when your track record isn’t the best. It would come out sounding like an excuse.

“Do you remember Claudia, my friend from book club?”

“Is she single?”

She continues without acknowledging I said anything. “She and I were talking the other night. Her daughter, Dani, just moved back from spending time with their family in Mexico. She is so smart and so gorgeous. Claudia gave me her number so you can call her.”

A blind date doesn’t exactly sound fun to me, but this isn’t a battle I feel like fighting now. So, I do what I always do: agree and change the subject. “Sure, sounds great. Do I need to get a license or anything for the party?”

“For what?”

“To do the wedding officiating. Am I like a priest now? Can I wear an outfit?”

She shakes her head. “No, we’re not doing a ceremony, although this will be news to your sister. You just need to say a few words and that’s it.”

I’m honestly a little nervous about this speech.

What do I know about marriage? What do I know about love?

Specifically, about a love like the one my parents have.

They communicate telepathically, that’s how in sync they are.

In fact, right now I watch them ask each other from opposite sides of the kitchen, Will we regret asking Eli to speak at this party?

with nothing but two blinks. They’re probably worried I’ll say something inappropriate in front of my ninety-year-old grandma.

“Just be yourself. Everyone loves you and you’ll know what to say. Just keep it classy and sincere.”

I take my phone out of my pocket to check the time before heading over to Andrew’s place to check on the plants. I see that Faye’s responded to my text.

Faye: I see you’re very busy . . . riding your Huffy bike?

Eli: Got my training wheels off and everything.

Faye: Wow big day for you.

Eli: Helping my dad with some yard work. Long story. What’s up?

Faye: I was hoping to chat more about that project manager job.

Faye: I don’t even know if I have the experience for it.

Eli: Yeah, we can def talk about it. Do you have a resume?

Faye: I’m sure I can dig one up, but I’m sure it needs work.

Eli: Do you want to meet up and look at it together? Might be easier to talk through in person.

Or am I just looking for a reason to see her? I could easily look at her resume and give her comments and suggestions over a phone call.

Faye: How about I buy you a coffee in exchange for the help?

“What are you smiling at?” Mom asks.

“Was I smiling?”

“You still are. Who are you texting?”

“Do you remember Faye, Andrew’s girlfriend from school?” Faye practically lived at our apartment so I know they met a few times when my parents would visit.

“Yes, I remember her! She seemed sweet. Kind of quiet.”

“She works at Millionfish, too. She might be a good internal candidate for a job I’m on the hiring team for. I think we’re going to grab a coffee to look over her resume and talk about the role.”

“She isn’t in Amsterdam with Andrew?”

“No, they broke up.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I hope Andrew is okay. He never responds to my texts inviting him over for dinner.”

“He’s a workaholic. I can’t believe he’s even taking a vacation, honestly.”

“I’m glad he’s taking some time off.” She takes another casual bite of a fry. “Based on the smiling I’m guessing you and Faye are . . . friendly?”

I don’t roll my eyes even though I want to. “Yes, Mom, we are friends.”

A friend I selfishly enjoy flirting with. A friend I selfishly enjoyed taking care of when they were sick, maybe going a little overkill with the groceries. But seeing her laying there and not feeling well, knowing she’d wake up to that empty apartment. No one wants to be sick and alone.

Eli: How about tomorrow morning? What’s your favorite coffee spot?

We decide to meet at 10:30 at a café near her apartment.

“Well, tell your friend I say hello.”