Page 143 of Legally Mine

"Bubbe?"

"What, sweetheart?"

"Dad needs to get out of New York. It's time."

There was a silence, then a long sigh.

"Yes," she said sadly. "I think you're right."

"I'm going to look into a program up here for him," I said. "Brandon will help, and I'll figure out the finances. But we need to get Dad out of Brooklyn. Out of that scene, at least until his hand heals. You could come too..."

Bubbe scoffed openly, like I knew she would.

"And what would I do up in that city?" she asked. "I am a Brooklyn Jew, bubbela, always have been, always will be."

"You could be a Brooklyn Jew in Boston for a while," I offered, though I already knew the answer. Bubbe wouldn't leave Brooklyn as long as she had an active bone in her body.

"I'll be fine here, Skylar," she said, although she couldn't quite get rid of the sadness in her voice. "You just get everything ready for Danny. Don't worry about me."

Like that would ever happen. But instead, I just said, "All right, Bubbe. Will do. I'll call you when I get back next week, and we'll figure out the next steps, okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart. You give that handsome man of yours my love, and a kiss for you too."

I blinked. It wasn't like Bubbe to be so openly affectionate. Things must be worse than I thought.

"I will," I said softly. "My love to you and Dad."

~

The developments of the day hung over us like clouds as Brandon and I curled together beneath the gauzy canopy of the bed, the French doors left open to let in the warm night breeze. Our vacation had started out idyllically, but now the stresses of home had found us across an ocean and a sea.

We lay separately, facing each other in the moonlight. Whether it was the unexpected disruption of Cory (and the awkward dinner that had gone late into the night) or Bubbe's phone call, which I'd relayed to Brandon after Cory had left, something had shifted. The carefree mood was gone, and we were left with what remained: the joy of being together, but the knowledge that another tide of change was coming.

"I think it's good," Brandon was saying about Bubbe's and my decision. "It's progress, especially if we can convince her to move too at some point." He pressed his lips together, then nodded to himself. "I'll have Margie find an apartment for him close to a good rehabilitation center. We'll have David drive him to Boston next weekend."

"You don't need to do that," I started to say, but Brandon silenced me with an exasperated look.

"Stop," he said. "You're about to start a new job that is going to ask more of you than anything else you've ever done. I should know; I'm the one who usually does the asking."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew he was right. Come Monday, I'd soon be working close to eighty hours a week for the foreseeable future. I'd barely have time to eat, let alone go down to Brooklyn every other weekend to keep Dad out of trouble. It was why I had already admitted to Bubbe I'd let Brandon help.

"All right," I relented.

Brandon only offered a brief smile in return.

We lapsed into silence again, content just to gaze at one another. Under other circumstances, I might have found us nauseatingly sweet, but right now, I just was content to enjoy the quiet.

"God, you're beautiful," Brandon murmured for the umpteenth time on our trip. Every so often he'd interrupt our light conversation to say it, and each time, he made me blush.

I buried my face in my pillow, but couldn't keep the silly grin away. "You are ridiculous."

When I looked back at him, he was still staring at me. His tanned features were dark against the white of the pillow case, and in the moonlight, his eyes glittered like stars. He reached out a finger to trace the edge of my cheekbone.

"I'm just a man in love," he said softly.

The words warmed me all over. It was these moments that made me feel like we could last always, that nothing could break us. I wished with all of my heart that were true.

Brandon played with my fingers. Our hands were so different: mine were so long and slim compared to his big paws.