From the Moment We Met by Marina Adair Page A

thirty-five years alone, so when Tanner had come into the world, the man was already set in his ways. Ways that didn’t have much room for a wife or a son. So it wasn’t surprising that Tanner’s mom went out for a drive one day and never came back.
    “Did you get extra noodles?” Colin asked. “You know how much I love noodles.”
    “No. Don’t remember inviting you to dinner and don’t want to give you a reason to stay.”
    “You can eat Jack’s,” Gus offered. “Serves him right for not taking me to the bar to watch the game.”
    “You said you didn’t want to go.”
    Gus shrugged, eyes fixed on the flat screen.
    “Dad, next time if you want to go, just say yes when I ask you.”
    “I wasn’t ready to go yet,” Gus said, a fluster of hands and huffs, gearing up to one of his tirades. “I was still watching my Jeopardy and you took off. That’s what’s wrong with your generation, you have no patience.”
    Something he would love to argue another time when he wasn’t wet and starving. Eight weeks into sharing space and Gus was still alive: proof that Tanner was the most patient man on the freaking planet.
    “Don’t answer your phone neither,” Gus added, sounding a little winded. In fact, when Tanner looked closer, his dad seemed pale and clammy. And old. Really old. “Figures that the only time you don’t answer that ball and chain is when I’m calling.”
    “You called?” Tanner checked his phone and sure enough, there were two missed calls from his dad.
    “No matter,” he said in a tone that said it mattered—a whole hell of a lot. “Colin here entertained me. Let me join the party. Even bought me a draft while we watched the game with that Ferris fella.”
    Tanner paced to the window, looked out, and— ah, Jesus —felt his entire chest drop. His dad’s three-hundred-year-old truck was gone, meaning Colin must have driven Gus back. “You aren’t cleared to drive.”
    “According to that doctor, I’m not cleared to go to the john by myself neither, but I didn’t see you offering to hold my hand then.”
    “Dad, you behind a wheel is not an option. Ever. Dr. Johnson said that—”
    “Dr. Johnson’s got as much sense as a stump. I’ve had turds older than that boy.”
    That boy was older than Tanner, and Ivy League certified.
    “Funny, since the Department of Motor Vehicles agreed.” Tanner ran a hand down his face. “Maybe we should reconsider hiring someone part-time. I still have that list of nurses who—”
    “No way,” Gus said shaking his head. “And don’t you even think about hiring one behind my back, I’ll chase her away before she even gets settled. Remember when Clive Evans threw out his hip last year? He hired himself a nurse, and all she did was rob him blind and give him a woody. Poor guy’s homeless now.”
    “Clive’s wife took care of him. And Helen got the house when he admitted he was sleeping with that lady from their canasta club.”
    He waved that bit of info off. “I don’t need some hot young thing throwing herself at me and trying to sleep with me for my money. Between you and Colin and me, we can handle this.”
    It was Tanner’s money, and he didn’t want Colin hanging out here any more than he already was, especially when he finally had a chance with Abby.
    “Well, your staying here alone obviously isn’t working out. Jesus, Dad, you could have hit someone.” And wasn’t that an awful image. “That’s it. I’m serious, no more driving.” Then he pictured his dad and his dog, hobbling their way down the highway. “And no more leaving the house unless someone is with you.”
    And if there was one way to make sure Gus did something, it was to tell him the opposite. Which meant Tanner had just guaranteed that Gus would be zipping around town in his truck every time Tanner left the house, most likely doing drive-bys of Dr. Johnson’s office, flipping him off with his cane.
    “Everything’s fine,” Colin said carefully. “No