Shock poured through his system. How had this happened? Her son vandalized his car and suddenly she was insulting him? He dealt with reality every single damn day. "Hey, I'm the one being attacked for being nice. Ever consider that your adversarial ways are blocking you from getting a date?"
"I'm not looking for a pretty face to date. I'm looking for someone who's not afraid to get messy and see the pearl buried under the dirty, closed-mouthed oyster. Have you ever done something for a woman without waiting for a pat on the back? Or given a compliment on anything other than her appearance?"
"I respect a woman's brain. It's not my fault your entire gender is so obsessed with their appearance, body, and age. Women crave approval and reassurances that they're beautiful. Don't get mad at me just because I give you what you really want."
She shook her head in disgust. "Bull. You don't bother to dig deeper because you choose not to. You don't know how to relate to creative women who aren't afraid to get ugly and tell the truth. It's easier to see the surface image, isn't it? Like your date," she added with a slightly bitter tone.
Temper hit him. How dare she question his intentions? She knew nothing about him. With a low growl, he leaned forward and challenged her back. "Oh, yeah? You think you haven't judged me by my appearance? By my job or my apartment? I work construction, Ella. I have blistered, raw hands, crazy shifts, and don't own a suit. I'm thirty-eight years old without a college degree. I don't live in a fancy house and I'm not a fancy guy. Who's not being real by saying you never judged me by my appearance?"
The breath gushed out of her lungs and she took a step back. Silence descended as the angry words hung in the air between them. He shook his head in disgust. There was no reason to get upset by the truth. Women saw him as an attractive guy to have sex with but not marry. They ogled his body, not his brains. Most women he dated had no interest in a real conversation unless it was a segue to bed. Nate was the marrying kind. Stable, financially secure, wicked smart.
Not Connor.
"Forget it. This whole thing is ridiculous. I gotta go. I'll check in with you later about Luke. Happy Valentine's Day."
He stomped off without another word and refused to look back. But her words lingered in his mind for a long, long time.
Valentine's Day was officially her nemesis.
From the moment Connor knocked on her door, things had drifted into a steep decline. Her son had committed vandalism. A crime. It was completely opposite who he was as a person and how she raised him. Her stomach curled with nausea until she wanted to just drive to the school and confront him. But she agreed having some time to deal with his guilt--hoping he had some--would be a good lesson. After all, she'd seen it a zillion times portrayed in The Brady Bunch.
School was a fog of battling concentration between the ridiculous hormones of college students on a national holiday for love. No one seemed interested in her lessons, preferring to talk about plans for the evening or showing off presents received from companions. The break room and cafeteria were cluttered with ridiculous stuffed animals that had no purpose, too much candy, and balloons formed in the shape of hearts. Her coworkers were just as guilty as the students. She'd caught Bernard, the history professor, trudging down the hall with two-dozen roses in his grip and a silly grin on his lips.
Awful. Just...awful.
Late morning, she looked frantically for her glasses and ended up finding them when she sat down and heard a solid crunch. When she pulled them from under her lap, the broken frame dangled limp between her fingers.
The word vibrated beneath her chest, dying to escape, but still Ella fought it back. Cursing was not a solution to the problem. The day had to end sometime, and then it would be over for a whole year.
By the time she got in her car to drive home, the roads were slippery from the snow beginning to fall. She tried to distract herself with music, but Frank Sinatra crooned on too many stations. When she punched the buttons, sappy love songs filled the speakers.
She clicked it off and drove through the snow in silence, squinting. Dammit. Her spare set of glasses was at home.
An hour later than usual, hands trembling from the slick roads and tension of not being able to properly see, Ella pulled to the curb and cut the engine. She mentally rehearsed the speech she'd been practicing for Luke. Grabbing her briefcase and purse, she tiredly pushed through the door.
And blinked.
"What's going on?"
Connor and Luke sat on the couch. Two mugs lay on the coffee table. They looked like they had been in deep conversation, and when they heard her voice, both jumped to their feet, looking almost guilty. "Sorry, we didn't hear you come in," Connor said. "How are the roads?"
"Terrible. What are you doing here?" she asked.
Connor looked down at Luke and something passed between them. Connor gave a slight nod, and her son stepped forward.
"Mom, I'm sorry. I screwed up bad."
Her heart pounded. At least he was going to confess. His beautiful dark eyes looked sad behind his glasses, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Swallowing back the need to go comfort him, Ella dropped her bags and sat down on the leather recliner facing him. "Go ahead."
He took a shaky breath. "I slashed Connor's tire. With a group of boys from the neighborhood. I didn't want to, but I--I got mad. I got tired of being on the outside and not having any friends, and they dared me and called me a pussy, so I did it."
Emotion choked her throat. God, it was so hard to be a kid these days. But life was going to get harder, and more difficult choices had to be made. If she didn't do her job and teach him how important every decision was, she wouldn't be giving him the right tools. She kept her face impassive, letting him see her disappointment. "Connor came to me this morning and told me," she said. "He found your glasses. Are you admitting this because you got caught?"
He shook his head. "No. I felt sick all morning. I didn't know he saw me. When I got home from school, I went next door and told him what happened."
Connor spoke up. "He's telling the truth. He apologized and offered to make it right. So we came back here to wait for you, so he could tell you himself." Connor placed a hand on Luke's shoulder and squeezed in reassurance. "I told him my day was shot because I had to get a new tire, but I respected him being man enough to own up to it."
Stupid tears burned her eyes. To see the flash of satisfaction in her son's eyes for being called a man broke her heart. Yes, he'd made a big mistake, but he made it right. It was the most she could ask for, and she ached to hug him tight and not let go for a long time.
Instead, she cleared her throat and nodded. "I agree with Connor. I'm proud you took it upon yourself to tell the truth. Can you tell me who these boys are? What do you think we should do about them?"
"They're not in my school, Mom. They're older. I don't see them every day. At first, they gave me a hard time, but then they said if I proved myself, I could be part of their group."
"Do you know their names so I can contact their parents?"
"I've seen them before, Ella," Connor interrupted. "They drift in and out of the neighborhood, looking for trouble, but I haven't been able to track down where they actually live yet."
"They said Connor needed a lesson because he's always interfering with them."
"Are they dangerous?" she asked. What if they began stalking Luke? Or tried to physically assault him? "Should I call the police?"
"They've never done anything before," Connor said. "I think this was more about Luke than me. But I've ordered some security cameras for outside my house. I picked up some for you, too, with a monitor. I'll install them tomorrow."
"You don't have too, I'll--"
"I want to." His tone warned her not to argue. "I talked to Luke about working off the tire and wanted to see if it was acceptable to you. We decided he'd help me out with shoveling on my jobs. When the weather clears, I'll also need a hand building a shed for my brother. He's agreed to both."
"I think that sounds
fair," she said softly. "When do you want to start?"
"Tonight," Luke piped up. "I did my homework. Connor said he needs to go out for a few hours and I told him I could start right away. Is that okay, Mom?"
She studied her son's face, surprised he didn't look gloomy or despondent about his fate. He actually seemed like he was looking forward to it. Was he lonely? Or did he just crave some company other than hers?
"Of course. I can make dinner for you both, if you'd like. Then you can head out."
Connor grinned. "Would love to jump on that, but I need an hour to work on my paper. I have this teacher I'm having a hard time impressing. I'll pick you up at six, Luke."
"Thanks."
Connor headed to the door, then swung back to motion to her son. "Don't forget to give your mom her present."
"Present?"
"Oh, right. Wait here!" He rushed out of the room.
Connor grinned. "Was your day as bad as mine? Hey, where are your glasses?"
She reached up and touched her naked nose. "Sat on them. My spare is upstairs."
"Damn, you did have a bad day."
She laughed. "Yeah, it was a doozy. I'm surprised you don't have a hot date tonight, though."
"Nah, they jack up the price for everything and there's no one special that's really worth it."
Ella rolled her eyes. "You're such a romantic."
"Yeah, what's your excuse? Why do you hate V day so much?"
The memory tore through her, but the pain was just a slight throb, a reminder that she hadn't been enough. "My husband left two years ago on Valentine's Day," she finally said. "He said I didn't inspire him anymore."
Silence fell.
Why had she told him that? Such a deeply personal fact of her life? Embarrassment made her cheeks hot but she forced a laugh. "He probably just wanted to save himself some money. He'd been buying me all sorts of trinkets because of guilt from his affair. Now, I realized he did me a favor."
He still didn't speak. Thank God, Luke came running back in and thrust a huge bouquet into her hands. Shock filled her. She gazed at the beautiful flowers, blood red with perfectly formed petals eliciting just a touch of scent. Her son had never bought her anything before. Her voice trembled. "Luke, these are beautiful! Thank you so much."