“So, you want me to come for your dad?”
“Yes.” Then I grinned. “Plus, you know, the lasagna.”
“I do remember that it’s pretty awesome.”
“Best in the country. And she always makes ziti and meatballs for her Theo. Those aren’t too shabby either.”
“And it wouldn’t bother you?”
“No.” I took a sip of water. “Despite our past, Kelly, I do care. There is no reason for you to be alone here when you could be part of a nice afternoon. I don’t want to be the reason you’re on your own. Charly will be unhappy. Rosa won’t be pleased. My dad wouldn’t like it either. So, come.”
She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll think about it. I appreciate it, Brett.”
“I appreciate you encouraging me to talk to my dad.”
She smiled. “The two of you are so alike.”
“My mom used to say that.”
“How did your mom die?” she asked quietly.
“Cancer,” I said shortly. “I was sixteen. My dad and I were already at loggerheads. Once she wasn’t there to referee anymore, it got worse. We stopped talking. All we did was yell and accuse. We lived in the same place, but it was as if there were walls around us. When I moved to Toronto to be a mechanic, I rarely saw him. He didn’t approve of my choice of career. I went to school and busted my butt to learn. He thought I was thumbing my nose at his life. I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to be stuck in a grocery store. That wasn’t my calling. I always loved cars and taking them apart. Engines. That was what I wanted to do. I put myself through school and lived in a horrible little place until I could get something better. And I did it all on my own, with no help from him.” I rubbed my eyes, suddenly tired. “When I lost my job and came home for a brief while, I hoped things would get better, but we seemed to be stuck in a rut. He disapproved of everything I did. I felt as if I were sixteen again, working in the store, being told what to do constantly, second-guessed about everything. Any suggestion to upgrade the store or the apartment was met with resistance. The day Charly breezed into the store changed my life. She told me where she worked, and I told her I was a trained mechanic. After that, she would pop in all the time. Chat to my dad. Talk to me. Then she asked me to come see Maxx, and the rest is history. My life changed again—this time for the better. But I stagnated with my dad. Today was the first time we connected in a really long time.”
I met her gaze. “And I have you to thank for it.”
She smiled, the movement lighting up her pretty face. “I’m glad,” she murmured.
“That’s the most personal thing you have ever asked me,” I said, sipping my water, studying her.
“I never felt as if I had the right to ask you anything,” she admitted.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Um, sure?”
“What about your parents? Your childhood. You never talk about it.”
“Oh, ah…” She trailed off.
“Too personal?” I questioned.
“No, I suppose not.” She shifted, looking uncomfortable. I was about to tell her it was okay when she spoke, her voice soft. “I was never sure why my parents had me. I always felt like an afterthought. A shadow in their lives.” A pained look passed over her face. “I often heard my mother talk about ‘the mistake.’ I didn’t figure it out until I was a teenager. I was that mistake.”
Jesus. I felt her pain behind those words. The need to reach out and comfort her was strong, but I could tell from her body language my touch wouldn’t be welcome.
“I’m sorry,” I offered quietly.
She shrugged, shifting and pulling her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“My parents only had eyes for each other. My dad was controlling, and my mom loved it. He handled everything. The house, the bills, the decisions. She cooked his favorite meals and made sure to look beautiful for him when he got home. I ate at the kitchen table and was sent to my room by seven.”
I frowned. “So basically, they ignored you.”
“Inside the house, yes. Outside, people thought we were a normal family. Church every Sunday. All the local events. I wasn’t given any choice, and I was expected to behave. We lived in a small town—smaller than here, even—and everyone knew everyone.” She sighed. “Yet somehow, to the town, I was invisible too. Everyone knew my parents, but I was always on the edge, sort of looking in.”
“That must have been lonely.”
“It was. And yet, I felt trapped all the time. I hated it.”
“Why?” I asked.
“If I misbehaved at school, someone told my parents. If I got into a disagreement on the playground, they found out. Once, I was riding my bike, and I ignored a stop sign and kept peddling. It wasn’t a big deal—most of the kids did it too. Nothing happened except someone saw me and told my dad. My bike was taken away, and I had to walk everywhere. Plus, I was grounded. I hated that. Nothing was private. I was ignored yet spied on all the time. It was a fine line to walk.”