“I’m sorry,” I say and pull the hem of my black dress down. With my pulse quickened, I change the subject, back to Zander and Quincy.
“Do you have any stories?”I ask him.
“Stories of what?”
“Of you and Quincy.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, too long. An awkwardness slips between us. “You don’t have to tell me if you—” Just as I’m offering the both of us an out, he speaks up.
“I was drunk and wanted to pick a fight.” He peeks over at me, smirking, and his hand returns to its rightful place on my thigh. “It also started at a bar.”
His gentle smile picks up the corners of my lips. His jaw is strong, covered in a five o’clock shadow as I gauge his expression in profile.
“I was pissed. I’d gotten into a fight with my brother over our parents. He wanted them to go live with him. I wanted them to move down south where it was warm. It’s what they wanted really.”
“Why did they want to move?”
“Mom had chronic pneumonia and … well, things had to change. Pops had a hard time taking care of everything although he wouldn’t admit it.”
“Did he love her?” My question throws Zander off and I almost feel compelled to explain myself. “I don’t remember a time when my mother was alive, really … only moments and they were fighting.”
“Yeah,” he says and nods, taking my hand in his and kissing my wrist before setting both our hands back down on my thigh. His thumb moves in soothing circles. “He loved her and she loved him.”
“They’re gone?”
He nods slowly and says, “Yeah, they had just passed. One after the other and my brothers just made things worse.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that, my little bird.” I swear he almost says something else but stops himself. “She passed quickly. My father died later that year.”
I have to bite down on my lip to keep from apologizing again. “How old were you?”
“Twenty-five. And angry.”
“So you went to the bar,” I say to remind him of the start of his story.
He sucks in a breath and nods. A moment later he has to turn the wheel again, but he makes do with just his one hand.
We’re driving slower now and on a back road I’m not familiar with.
“I was angry at the world, but Cade got the most of it.”
“Well … if it’s any consolation, Cade is an ass.”
He chuckles. “Why do you say that?”
I shrug, shyness overcoming me. “Because I want to make you feel better.”
This time he lets out a bark of a laugh and I love it. I love seeing this side of him. “You’re sweet, Ella.” His thumb taps, taps, taps as he pulls in the side entrance of a long lot with a row of brick buildings. At the very end is a larger building with parking all around it. I imagine that’s the restaurant we’re having dinner at.
“I wanted to pick a fight I guess, and she was there at the end of the bar.”
“Don’t tell me you fought a woman,” I say, dropping my voice to be comical.
He doesn’t laugh. Instead he gives me a sad smile. “No, we didn’t fight.” His voice is hoarser but he keeps going. “She made me laugh. I hadn’t laughed in a long time.”
He stops then. Not speaking as we pull into a parking spot. The car sways slightly and he keeps it running as we sit there.