Beautiful!” Manny exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see this place filled with people tomorrow morning.”
Chelsea took a step back to admire the sunroom, its transformation complete. The makeover managed to make the most of the small space while retaining its character and history, thanks to the apothecary cabinet, lace drapes, and antique wingback chair, not to mention the phonograph gleaming in the corner next to a tiered shelf lined with vintage records just begging to be played.
“Bo, you outdid yourself on these,” Chelsea said, running a hand over one of two reclaimed wood tables running parallel with the wall.
“Don’t forget my trusty sidekick!” Bo gave Hancock a slap on the back.
“Never!” Chelsea said, placing her flowers from Sawyer on one of the tables. “Hancock, have you thought about what you want to do for your birthday?”
“Yeah. I want to do what we always do,” he said.
Chelsea bit her tongue. Sawyer and Hancock had an epic birthday tradition. A tradition that made Chelsea’s knees quake and her stomach turn. Every year without fail, Sawyer would take Hancock to the nearest amusement park, where they would ride the tallest, fastest, loopiest roller coaster—one time for each year of Hancock’s life. Chelsea, whose fear of heights topped her list of phobias, could not think of a worse way to celebrate a birthday. That is, until she added Sawyer to the equation.
“I was thinking we would start a new tradition this year. You know, now that you’re going to be a teenager?” Chelsea attempted a positive spin, but she knew she had failed miserably before she even finished speaking. In fact, her tactic backfired.
“I know,” Hancock said in a tone that reeked of teenage sarcasm. “Why don’t you go ahead and plan my birthday? Then you can tell me what I want to do.”
As soon as the words spurted out of his mouth he was gone, leaving Chelsea to ride the wake of awkward tension with Manny and Bo.
“What do you say we call it a night, Manny?” Bo said.
Manny nodded. “Big day tomorrow!”
“Thanks, guys. You’re the best. I better go have a chat with my son,” Chelsea said. “Wish me luck,” she added as she headed upstairs.
Chelsea found Hancock in the kitchen eating a bowl of ice cream. Her first instinct was to scold him for consuming sugar so late at night, but instead she served herself a scoop of Rocky Road and buckled up for a bumpy ride.
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
“Did everyone leave?” Hancock said after a moment of silence.
“Yeah. You probably owe Manny and Bo an apology tomorrow.”
Hancock gave a heavy nod as he spooned at the chocolate puddle forming in his bowl. “It’s hard, you know?”
Chelsea watched her son struggle to put his feelings into words, a hereditary trait no doubt.
“I don’t like not being a family anymore,” he said. “And every time I think I’ve gotten used to all the change, something else changes.”
Chelsea’s eyebrows rose with recognition. Her young son had pinpointed her exact feelings. She reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“Mom, I know Dad’s not perfect, and you don’t want to see him. But he’s my dad. You can’t cut him out forever.”