The Bookworm Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  They sat, Dad’s expression open and thoughtful. Still patient.

  “I…” Toff began, then ducked his head, staring at his hands. He had lots of small scars, like most hard-core surfers, from coral, rocks, the board itself. A few on his legs, but nothing as big as what he’d have from his current injury.

  His biggest scar was the one on his heart, from losing Mom. Dad’s scar from losing Mom had to be bigger and deeper than his, but here he was, taking a risk and getting married again. Toff exhaled a shaky breath and looked into his dad’s eyes.

  “How do you know? If you’re in love. If it’s real.”

  Dad’s eyes softened. “Do you think you are?”

  Toff shrugged. “Just wondering what it’s like.”

  Dad eyed him. “Fair enough,” he said after a long beat. “The first time, with your mom, it was fast. Almost instant. Your mom and I…” His voice trailed off.

  Wistful, thought Toff. One of those words he knew but never used. An Amy word.

  Dad shifted in his chair and smiled. “She was a wild child. Not afraid of anything.” His lips quirked. “A lot like you. Underneath all her fearlessness, the riskiness, the refusal to take no for an answer, she had a huge heart.” Dad tilted his water bottle toward Toff. “Also like you.”

  Toff wasn’t sure about that.

  “It was impossible to resist her,” Dad said. “Not that I wanted to. I never quite got over the fact that she chose me out of all the guys she knew.”

  Toff’s body buzzed with restless energy. He and Dad had never talked about Mom like this before.

  Dad propped his ankle on his thigh. “With Rose, it’s been the opposite. Love crept up on us. We were friends since we were kids, like you and Viv.”

  That got Toff’s attention. “Wordworm and I have no—”

  Dad laughed. “I know, I know. Rose and I joke about it all the time, how we always thought you kids would get together, but instead we did.” Dad slanted him a sly look. “Besides, you couldn’t compete with Dallas.”

  “You wish he was your son instead of me.” Toff was kidding, but his dad glared at him.

  “Christopher. Don’t joke about that.”

  Toff raised his hands and laughed. “Okay, okay. So you and Rose—the slow-burn thing, right? Friends to lovers.”

  Dad blinked. “What are you—”

  Toff grinned. “Amy’s teaching me a lot about all the different types of romances.” He hesitated. “I even read one. Amy made me read it because she wanted me to… She was hoping I’d…” Toff sighed. “It was about this couple who’d been together in high school, then split, then hooked up again when they were old, like you and Rose.”

  “Old?” Dad cocked an eyebrow, but he was grinning.

  “Older,” Toff amended, and Dad laughed. “Anyway. That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Toff ducked his head. “I love Rose. I’m happy for you.” He looked up, meeting his dad’s eyes. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say this. But I’m okay with the wedding. Better than okay.”

  Dad blew out a long breath. “You know it doesn’t change my feelings for Mom, right? I’ll always love her.”

  Toff nodded. He’d never stop loving Mom, either.

  “Can I, um.” Toff squared his shoulders, remembering what Amy had said. Who else would he ask?

  “Can I be your best man?” Toff asked, his heart thudding. “Please?”

  Dad stared like he couldn’t believe his ears. Crap. He shouldn’t have asked. Dad had probably asked Burner or Crash or—

  “Who the hell else did you think I’d ask?” Dad’s eyes blazed. “Of course you’re my best man.”

  The words settled around Toff like the cozy blanket his grandma had made him years ago, still on his bed.

  “Thanks.”

  Dad stood up and slugged Toff on his shoulder. “Why are you so smart about some things and so clueless about others?” He smiled. “At least you’re smart about Amy. I’m glad you’re hanging out with her.”

  Toff averted his gaze, staring down at his feet. He hadn’t been smart at all, not the past couple of days anyway. The way Dad had described falling in love with Rose, being friends and then love sneaking up on them…was that what was happening to him?

  He couldn’t believe he was even thinking about the L-word.

  Whatever it was between them, he’d been an ass, ghosting her after they’d had a great night together. He needed to apologize. Exhaling roughly, Toff stood up and headed for the door.

  Behind him, Dad fired up the sander, the whirring sound merging with Mick Jagger’s voice blaring through the corner speaker. “Send Slammer back in here!” Dad yelled, reaching for his face mask. “We’ve got a board to finish before the party.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Viv: Can you pick up balloons from Party Palooza on your way?

  Toff: I live to serve the Galdi ladies.

  Viv: Also, you suck and I’m going to kill you if you don’t talk to Amy today.

  Toff struggled to remove the balloons from his van. Viv had gone overboard, no surprise. There were at least one hundred red and pink heart balloons mixed in with shiny silver ones and plain white ones. Okay, maybe not one hundred, but a lot.

  Dallas met Toff outside of Viv’s house. “Need help?”

  “I’m afraid to let go,” Toff said. “If these fly away, Viv will murder me. She already wants to.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He took some of the balloons and pinned Toff with a glare. “Ghosting Amy was shitty, dude.”

  Here we go, thought Toff. He deserved this. “I know. I suck.”

  “You ghosted me, too,” Dallas said, still glaring. “You’ve ignored all my texts.”

  Toff tugged at his hair, frustrated and embarrassed, something he wasn’t used to feeling. “I know, okay? I’m just…trying to figure stuff out.”

  “Stuff?” Dallas’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Dude, cut me a break, okay?” He felt like an idiot arguing while they both held giant balloon bouquets. “I’m going to talk to her.” He glanced at the house. “If she’s here.”

  “She is.”

  Toff’s gut twisted. This was gonna be weird. Hard. But he had to do it. “Good. Maybe you can call off your attack girlfriend so Amy and I can talk privately.”

  “Are you dumping her?” Dallas’s eyes burned into him like lasers.

  Great. Dallas was pulling his Superman act, with his nerdy glasses and dumb Star Trek T-shirt, looking like he wanted to tear Toff apart limb by limb. Which he could, if he wanted to.

  “I’m apologizing,” Toff said. “As for dumping her, we were never, like, official or whatever.”

  “You’re such a moron.” Dallas rolled his eyes, turning toward the house. “No promises on me stopping Viv from murdering you.”

  “Then say nice stuff about me at my funeral,” Toff said. “Make something up.”

  Dallas shot him a sideways smirk. “If there’s a funeral. Rose knows how to hide the evidence and the body. You might just…disappear,” he said dramatically.

  “You ever worry about that?” Toff asked, relieved Dallas was joking with him. “Dating a girl whose mom plots murders for a living?”

  “Rose loves me. I’m good.” He slanted a sly grin at Toff. “You, on the other hand…”

  Toff couldn’t help but laugh.

  Dallas held the door open. “Brace yourself. It looks like a cheesy Hallmark store in there. Hearts and sparkly stuff everywhere.”

  Toff grinned. “I can handle it.”

  “Just don’t offer any suggestions,” Dallas whispered as they headed for the living room. “Basically, they have a plan and we don’t know crap.”

  Toff almost tripped over a box overflowing with decorations. “Noted.”

  “Yay!” Viv ran across the room an
d snatched the balloons from Dallas, then shot Toff a glare. Toff handed her his balloons…

  …and spotted Amy.

  She stood on a chair across the room, taping a huge blown-up photo to the wall.

  “Holy crap,” breathed Toff. It was a picture of his dad and Rose dancing outside at a party under strings of lights. It reminded him of a romance novel cover. It made him twitchy. He wondered if his dad would feel the same way.

  Amy bit her lip, glancing at him, then away. “What do you think?” She gestured to the poster, arms outstretched, glitter in her hair and falling from her hands. She looked beautiful. And freaked out, like she wanted to bolt. The apprehension on her face was a throat punch.

  “It’s, uh, great. My dad will love it,” he lied. He glanced at Viv, then tilted his chin at Dallas.

  “Come on, Spock,” Dallas said, steering a protesting Viv out of the room. “I need food.”

  Toff waited until Viv’s voice faded away, then approached the chair. “Hey,” he said softly, looking up at her. “Can we talk?”

  He offered his hand to help her down from the chair, but Amy crossed her arms over her chest, her cheeks pink. He couldn’t tell if she was about cry or yell. She shrugged, glancing away from him. Shit. He lowered his outstretched hand, unsure what to do. He sucked at this.

  His earlier conversation with his dad replayed in his mind, about going from friends to something more. He still wasn’t sure about his own feelings, but he could see how much he’d hurt hers.

  “I know I was an ass,” he said. “The worst type of alphahole.” She still wouldn’t look at him. He sucked in a breath. His chest felt like a vise was squeezing it. “Please, Ames. Come down here and talk to me.”

  She side-eyed him, then hopped off the chair, ignoring his outstretched hand.

  “I’m sorry about ghosting you. It was a crappy thing to do.” He hesitated. “Especially because it was, you know, a good night. Really good.”

  Slowly, Amy looked up, her pretty eyes locking onto his, her expression unreadable. He swallowed, overwhelmed with the desire to hold her. To kiss her. But now wasn’t the right time.

  “Why did you, though? If it was so good.”

  Toff shook his head. “I was all up in my head. Trying to sort out some stuff. I didn’t even touch my phone.”

  She nodded but didn’t look convinced.

  He sighed. “Remember how I said I’d find a big eraser to undo the stupid stuff I said about the sponge bath?”

  Was that a hint of a smile?

  Encouraged, he kept going. “I looked everywhere, but nobody makes erasers big enough to undo my ignoring you.”

  That was definitely an almost smile.

  “Can we just… Will you please give your coach another chance? A redo?”

  “Maybe,” she said. But this time she smiled for real.

  Relief swept through him as he grinned down at her. “Awesome.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Was this a kissing moment? Or not? He’d better wait. “I, uh, caught up on social media before I came over. Looks like our book interview blew up.”

  Amy nodded, her cheeks going pink again. The book planet was shipping #BonnieandClyde harder than ever. From what he’d seen, Amy had stuck to her standard replies of “Just friends!” “LOL!” “Nope!” Which sort of bugged him.

  But more important than the ship stuff, she had a lot of new followers hitting her up for her Redhead Recs. She’d suggested at least one title for every request. Her brain was a giant database of books. It was impressive. And weirdly hot.

  “Now it’s wait-and-see time, until they announce the winner on Monday,” she said.

  “Better pack your bags for LA, Bonnie.” He grinned. “Time to meet your idol.”

  Amy shrugged. “I don’t know. Even if…” She hesitated.

  “What?” Toff asked. He wanted to know what she was thinking.

  “Even if I don’t win, I still want to celebrate. I’m proud of my new swagger.”

  There was that fire he loved, lighting her up.

  “Great idea. How about if we have dinner on Monday? A celebration slash apology dinner?”

  She glanced over her shoulder as Viv and Dallas entered the room, then turned back to him. “I already accepted your apology. Let’s make it a celebration dinner.” She smiled, but the look on her face…he’d never seen it before. “You can pay, though, if it’ll make you feel better, Coach.”

  Fierce. That’s what the look was. Damn.

  “Everything okay in here?” Dallas asked, shooting Toff a flinty Clint Eastwood stare.

  “Yeah, do I need to stab anyone?” Viv’s suspicious gaze zinged between Amy and Toff.

  Amy laughed. “Stabbing’s my specialty, but I forgot my ‘knitting stick.’” She smirked at Toff. “Lucky for you.” She pointed to a box on the dining room table. “You need to unpack that and tape the decorations to the walls.”

  Toff opened the box and pulled out a Cupid cutout with creepy eyes. Wasn’t Cupid supposed to be happy? This baby looked psychotic, plus he was armed with a crossbow.

  “Looks like everything’s under control,” Dallas said. “I mean everyone.”

  Toff hated that smug grin. Check that—both smug grins, because Viv was blasting him with one, too. He glanced at Amy.

  She was smiling, too, a familiar flash of warmth and laughter in her eyes that he’d missed. A lot. The vise grip on his chest finally released.

  Hell, he’d tape this ugly cardboard baby to his bare chest if she told him to.

  …

  “Wear something other than a T-shirt, Toff.”

  “It’s not like tonight’s the wedding.” Toff was going for a joke, but Dad wasn’t amused.

  Dad, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and khakis he’d actually ironed—Toff didn’t even know they owned an iron—scowled. “Christopher. Don’t argue.”

  Wow, busting out the full name. Dad must be nervous. That was too bad. Toff was looking forward to the party, now that he’d apologized to Amy.

  “Don’t stress, Dad. The party will be great. You should see the decorations.” He smothered a laugh. “I mean, you should really see them, to prepare yourself.” He pulled out his phone. “I took pictures.”

  Dad shook his head. “I’ll wait and be surprised.”

  “You sure will.” Toff grinned. He drained his Gatorade. “I’ll see what I’ve got in my closet.”

  “You mean what’s lying on your bedroom floor that’s clean?”

  “Nah. If I have anything that’s not a T-shirt, it’s on an actual hanger.”

  His dad laughed, relief flashing in his eyes, and Toff felt bad for giving him a hard time. “This party’s gonna be cool, Dad. It’s just your regular gang, right?”

  “And a couple of friends of Rose’s I haven’t met. They flew down from San Francisco.”

  “Wow. No wonder you ironed.” Toff grinned and shoulder-bumped his dad as he left the kitchen.

  “You need to shower!” Dad called after him. “The iron’s still set up in my bedroom if you need to use it!”

  Like that would ever happen.

  …

  After he showered—and, yes, ironed—Toff sat on his bed. He picked up the photo on his desk. Mom and Dad grinned at the camera, while his laughing four-year-old self pointed to something in the ocean.

  His conversations about his mom with Amy and today’s talk with Dad—and maybe even some of that stuff in the book Amy made him read—all of it had come together today while he’d help decorate for the party.

  He’d never seen so much glitter and so many hearts in his life. He used to make fun of that stuff, but by the time he left to come home and change, he was happy Viv and Amy had detonated a Valentine’s bomb. He was even okay with that huge photo on the wall.

  A memory suddenly
struck him like a lightning bolt, and he jumped up. The pennies. He needed to find them. He dug through his sock and underwear drawer but came up empty-handed. Crap. Where could they be?

  He leaned on his dresser, racking his memory. Where had his eight-year-old self hidden stuff? He stared at Rico lying on his bed. “Help me out, fish breath.”

  An image flickered at the edges of his memory.

  He bent down and pulled out the shoebox he’d hidden underneath the bed years ago. When he removed the lid, a sigh gusted out of him. Inside the box were sympathy cards made by his third grade classmates. He dug through the pile. Amy’s had to be in here somewhere.

  Her card was in the middle of the stack, a piece of red construction paper cut into the shape of heart. Hearts seemed to be the theme of the day. She’d drawn a puppy and a kitten, flowers, and a surfboard with a boy riding it. A boy with blond hair and blue eyes.

  Moms love their kids forever, she’d written in loopy cursive, even from heaven.

  His throat went tight. Dammit. He could not cry. Not tonight. It would kill his dad and Rose. He set the card on his desk and dug through the box, searching for what he was really after.

  His fingers closed around one coin, then the other. He glanced at Rico again. “Thanks, bro.” The coins were tarnished, but he knew how to fix that. He rushed to the bathroom and scrubbed the pennies with toothpaste, returning their coppery shine. He shoved them in his pocket, then brushed his teeth, too, just in case kissing was back on the agenda.

  As he left the house, the scent of his mom’s perfume slammed into him, stopping him in his tracks. He reached into his pocket, rubbing the pennies together.

  “Mom?” he whispered. “Are you here?” He walked slowly to his van, the perfume swirling around him. He leaned against the van and squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of Amy’s card. Moms love their kids forever, even from heaven.

  “I love you, too, Mom,” he whispered, then jumped into his van. He had to make a quick stop before the party.

  …

  Toff hesitated on the threshold of the dining room. The party was in full swing, old eighties and nineties music playing from speakers, clumps of people eating and drinking. Friends surrounded Dad and Rose. Dad draped his arm around Rose’s shoulders and pulled her in close. She looked up at him with a dreamy expression, and Toff’s chest squeezed, in a good way.