"You're sure about this?" Marcus asked for the thousandth time. His window was wide open, his radio was on, and his elbow was leaning out of the window as the wind ruffled his wavy hair. He looked like he could star in a car commercial.

"Please, Marcus. I can't take it anymore. Stop asking me that question," I moaned, sticking my arm out of my window, wiggling my fingers in the wind.

"I just want to make sure you're sure."

"I know. That's why when you asked me fifty thousand times ago, I said I was sure. And then when you asked me ten thousand times ago, I also said I was sure. I'm about to beg you to let me keep your dog at this point. I don't think Marco deserves to live with you and be interrogated like this everyday," I teased dramatically.

Marcus rolled his eyes, "His name is not Marco. It's-"

"I'm not calling him Morbid," I cut in, giving him a glare.

"He's morbidly obese, Mabel. Plus, that's his name."

"I don't care. I'm not calling him that," I huffed.

Marcus laughed, pulling his truck into the small, brick bungalow where his grandfather lived. Marcus had told me how his grandfather had been having a difficult time walking his dog lately and that the upkeep had been getting too much for him. Marcus said he wanted to get his grandfather to live in a retirement community so he'd have a support system, but he was adamant about staying in his home.

I jumped out of the truck as Marcus placed it in park and dusted my jeans off with the palms of my hands. I took in the array of flower pots scattered around the porch and the uncut grass.

The front door swung open and an elderly man hobbled out with a hand shielding his face front the sun.

Marcus shot me a reassuring smile as he beckoned me over and we began to walk up the porch.

"The prodigal son returns," The man said with a straight face. He was so stoic that I found myself lingering behind Marcus just in case his possible anger towards his grandson somehow transferred to me. He wore a pair of brown trousers with suspenders, a plaid shirt peaking out from underneath. His tan face had a pair of large glasses that made him look adorable.

"Hola abuelo," Marcus replied with a grin, leaning down to hug the frail man.

"Don't pretend to know Spanish," the man continued with a stern face. "How many years did I tell you to learn? And now you decide to throw it in to impress a lady."

"Grandpa," Marcus warned. He turned around to find me cowering behind him. "This is Mabel."

I plucked up some courage and stepped out from behind Marcus to wave shyly, "Hi, Mr. Garcia. It's nice to meet you!"

"Hello, Mabel. It's nice to meet a young face. This one barely has time to see me apparently," He jabbed a finger at Marcus. "And please call me Juan."

"I saw you last week," Marcus defended himself.

"That was a week later than I was expecting," Juan retorted without skipping a beat.

Marcus snorted, "What did you do with my dog?" He asked walking into the house and whistling.

"Oh, so now he's your dog?" Juan rolled his eyes. "Please, come inside Mabel."

I followed the two men inside just as a golden retriever dog made a dash for Marcus' arms. Marcus made an oof sound (a bit of an over exaggeration. Marco looked chunky, not morbidly obese.)

"Hey buddy!" Marcus grinned, leaning down to pat Marco's back affectionately. He leaned down, balancing on the heels of his feet and gave him a few kisses as Marco licked him.

He moved from Marcus's arms to sniff around me and I bent down to gently pat him, "Hi Marco!" I enthused. He reciprocated with a slobbery kiss to my cheeks.

"Alright, bud." Marcus interrupted, patting his leg for Marco who stayed next to me, licking every inch of my face. "Morbid."

"Marco," I shot back with a glare. Marcus rolled his eyes but Marco stayed by my side. "Ha! I told you he hated the name. What do you say Marco? BFFs for life?"

"Where the hell did your loyalty go?" Marcus frowned as he watched us.

"Probably down the drain with that name." I stood up with a triumphant smile, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"Would you like coffee, Mabel?" Juan asked and I looked up to see him staring at me intently.

I nodded, "I'd love some, thank you."

Marco and I followed Juan into the kitchen. "I'd like coffee too, grandpa!" Marcus called after us.

Juan had a window seat tucked into the corner of his small kitchen. A vase of freshly cut flowers sat at the small round table atop of an embroidered tablecloth. Marcus and I sat on opposite benches and Marco squeezed himself next to me. I scratched around his neck.

Juan hobbled about his kitchen, clearly in his element. "You have a beautiful house, Juan," I smiled.

"Thank you, Mabel," He responded turning for a moment to smile at me as he loaded coffee filter with ground coffee. "I bought this with my wife. We lived here with Marcus's parents before they passed and with Marcus afterwards."

I glanced at Marcus to see him fiddling with the tablecloth. I had no idea his parents passed away. I felt a pang in my heart for the hundredth time him. How did he turn out so caring after everything he'd been through?

I tried to shove Marco closer to Marcus so that he could comfort him but Marco stayed glued to my side. Damn dog. Damn adorable dog.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I replied to Juan before turning to Marcus, "Both of you."

Marcus glanced at me and quickly, shooting me a small smile but I could tell he didn't want to talk about it. Or have it mentioned. I made a mental note not to blurt it out later.

"Coffee for you," Juan wobbled over with a cane in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, sitting at a chair with a sigh.

"Thanks, Grandpa," Marcus muttered at the lack of a cup in front of him.

Juan grinned, "Don't mention it, mijo."

"So, Mabel." Juan started and I swallowed the extraordinarily large sip I had taken loudly. It was very good coffee I justified. "You're Marcus's neighbour?"

I nodded, "Yes, that's right."

"How is he?"

"As a neighbour?" My eyes dashed to Marcus's who held a grimace. Sex-obsessed? Loud? Did not know I existed two months ago? "He's great! Very low-key. Clean. Organized. Um. Polite. Very polite."

Juan laughed, "Did you prep her before she came here?" He asked Marcus who lifted his hands in defence. "Why don't you go put Marco's food in your truck?"

Marcus glanced between us before nodding and standing up. He called to Marco on his way out but Marco whined, laying his head in my lap. Marcus rolled his eyes dramatically before walking out.

Juan paused for a moment, taking me in. "I know Marcus is a handful. You don't have to admit it for me to know it's true. I raised him. He's had a tough life. Nothing was handed to him. Everything he has he's worked tremendously hard for. And he's done it mostly on his own. But with that comes a challenge of its own. He's very good at being in his own. And I just want you to know that."

"We're only friends and neighbours, Juan. But thank you for letting me know all the same," I responded, confused as to what he was actually trying to tell me.

"Youth has a way of taking its time with true feelings. Just know with that one, it isn't always an easy path to get through. But what you'll get if you do stick it out, comes back three-fold."

I nodded before replying simply, "He's already given me that." And I truly meant it because though I had only known Marcus for a short period of time, I genuinely couldn't imagine not knowing him.