Page 105 of Your Last First Kiss

“Yeah, pal?” Dillon gives Gage his full attention.

“Are you a grandpa?”

And just like that, all the warm, cozy feelings bubbling below the surface burst like they were shot out of a cannon.

We go through the same thing every year. I’m about to interrupt when Kai bumps my shoulder. I was so focused on Gage, I didn’t hear him come down the stairs.

“Maybe he’ll have a solution,” Kai whispers. “He seems to be fixing everything else.” His tone tells me something is off, and I’m once again reminded that there are never enough hours in the day.

Now is the time to have this talk with him about Dillon, but I chicken out and instead ask, “How do you feel about that?”

Kai shrugs. “He seems nice. But promises this big rarely come true, so we’ll see, I guess.”

I swallow past the lump lodged in my throat like a jagged boulder. “Not everyone breaks promises, Kai.”

I swear my teenager rolls his eyes harder than a bowling ball.

I glance over my shoulder at Lia, who is still coloring at the table. She hasn’t even noticed Dillon yet. How much life did that little girl learn to block out?

“Nope. Not a grandpa,” Dillon says with a chuckle, drawing me back to them. “Why do you ask? Am I getting old? Gray hair?” He runs a hand through his thick, brown hair. “Potbelly?” He places both hands on his perfectly flat and muscular midsection, but bounces them like he’s Santa holding his pants in place.

Gage laughs, but it’s half-hearted, and Dillon can tell.

“What’s up, Gage?”

“Nothing.”

Dillon looks left to right like he’s searching for the missing piece, then eventually walks to the sofa and plops down next to Gage. “Feels like it might be something. Wanna talk about it?”

Gage shrugs, and every ounce of mom guilt I’ve ever experienced begs me to intervene, but something holds me back. That piece of me that wants Dillon to fit in our world pleads for me to give him a chance. Even Kai’s hand, gripping my forearm, seems to tell me to let it play out.

So I do. I stand and watch, with Kai to my right, as Dillon pulls pain from Gage’s little heart.

“Tomorrow’s Grandparents Day at school.”

It’s the first time Dillon has searched for me. When his eyes land on mine, I gently shake my head no, then circle my fingers, hopefully signaling that our only family lives in this house. Us and Miller, anyway.

“Ah. I see. And you don’t have any grandparents?”

Gage shakes his head but doesn’t lift his eyes. He watches the blanket he’s pulling pills from like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“Hmm.”

“Remy said he’d come with Izzy and me, but Izzy’s always gotta share him, so I said I was fine.”

“But you’re wishing you had someone to go with you?”

Another two-shouldered shrug from Gage. “Maybe,” he says quietly.

“You know, when I was growing up, I didn’t have anyone to go to my stuff either.”

Gage’s little head snaps up to stare open-mouthed at Dillon. “You didn’t?”

“Nope. Ashton’s mom and dad always stepped in, but it wasn’t the same as having someone there just for you.”

“Yeah.” Gage sighs too heavily for an eight-year-old. “It kinda stinks.”

“So, tell me the rules of Grandparents Day. What do you do? Is it only grandparents that go?”