FALLING FOR MY BEST FRIEND'S FATHER
Marcus looked between the two of them with an expression of complete helplessness, and then his shoulders dropped, and he laughed as well, low and genuine, the laugh Patricia had described from the dinner table on day two — the one she said he hadn't managed in two years.
Suddenly, the glass door slid open.
Jake appeared holding four glasses of lemonade with the focused concentration of someone who had decided to be useful and was committed to the execution. He looked at the three of them — laughing, wet-eyed, undignified, holding hands in the gold afternoon light, and his expression cycled through confusion, uncertainty, and tentative hopefulness in approximately two seconds.
"So," he said