Page 3 of Love Out Loud

“That good, huh?”

She just trudges over to the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of water. Her throat works against huge swallows as she chugs half of it in just a few seconds. When she pulls the bottle away from her lips, she wipes them with the back of her wrist, though I don’t know what good that does her. It’s been an unseasonably warm and humid spring southern Michigan, which I know is part of what has Devin so frustrated. She was counting on a temperate spring to help bring her times down, but all physical activity is harder in this heat.

“Hey, kiddo,” Lennon says.

Devin perks right up at the sound of his voice. They don’t see each other in person very often, but he’s always been part of the family, in a way, and he’s one of her favorite people. Like an uncle who lives miles away and pops in for a holiday or special occasion once in a while, but who also calls all the time.

“Hey, Lennon.” She smiles brightly at him as I hand her the plate with her toast on it. “Let me guess. You just got home from the club?”

He winks at her, flashing her his neon Los Angeles smile. “You got it.”

I frown at her. “What do you know about ‘the club’?”

Devin’s smile drops as suddenly as it appeared. She shoots me an exasperated look. “Mom, please. I’m eighteen.”

I raise my hands, palms out. “My bad. I didn’t realize the entirety of adult knowledge was dropped into your brain upon your eighteenth birthday.”

Devin rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of her head. Luckily, Lennon can see the attitude brewing from miles away—literally—and jumps in. “I hear you’ve been working on your pace. What are you at now?”

“Well, I beat Molly at the 400 this morning, which has never happened before,” she says, her mood lifting a little.

“That’s great!” Lennon beams with pride.

Her shoulders droop again as she leans on her elbows so she can see the phone screen better. “But I finished in sixty-two seconds, so not even close to my best.”

“Sounds pretty fast to me,” I mumble. Devin and Lennon both give me annoyed looks this time, so I back away to pour another cup of coffee.

“Hang in there, kiddo. You know that race day adrenaline will kick in and give you a little rocket boost,” Lennon reassures her.

It seems to work, because I see her smile out of the corner of my eye. “Thanks.” She shoves half the toast into her mouth, then says around her mouthful, “Gotta shower!” Then she waves at him and locks herself in the bathroom.

Lennon yawns. “See? Good kid.”

“She is.” A familiar pang hits my chest when I remember that her graduation means she’ll be leaving soon. She and Molly and a few of the other kids in her grade are headed to Europe for a senior trip, and then she’ll fly directly to New York to spend the rest of the summer with Richard per our custody agreement before moving into her dorm at NYU to study journalism. I’m about to be an empty nester at forty. Well, almost forty. One more month for that, too.

“You okay over there, Songbird?” Lennon’s gentle voice snaps me out of my musing.

I blink a few times before offering him a half smile. “Yeah.” His phone is slipping down slightly, and his eyes are drooping, so I don’t offer any more. “You should get some rest. I have to get going anyway. Early class and all that.”

He yawns again, and I avert my eyes from the flash I get of the inside of his mouth. Gross.

“Okay. Talk soon.”

“Love you,” I say as I move toward the phone to hang it up.

He responds the same way he always does, the same way he has for at least twenty years: “You’re my favorite.”

The last thing I see before I hang up the phone is Lennon grinning sleepily from his side of the country.