Breaking Mr. Cane (Cane 2)

“Wow. That sounds amazing. I'm glad to know the company is doing better after…well, you know.” She sipped her wine, letting him fill in the blanks.

Cane waved a dismissive hand. “Water under the bridge.”

Mom forced a smile. She took a small sip from her glass. “Let me check on the asparagus,” she said, then excused herself, walking to the patio again.

“I didn’t know you were thinking about going to North Carolina.”

“I was going to tell you after all of this blew over. I just settled on the idea yesterday.”

“Is this because of Buck?”

He nodded, then shrugged. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

“He can still find the company building, can’t he?”

“He can, but security will be better there. It’s not as open as the office here.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll still have my house here,” he assured me. “Don’t worry.”

I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that. He would be away a lot more with an office in another state, but right now wasn’t the time to get into that. Instead, I blew a breath, almost tempted to pour a glass of wine for myself.

Mom came back into the kitchen with Dad following behind her. Dad had a tray of steaks in hand, and walked past us to take them to the dining room. Mom started grabbing the salad and pasta and even the beer that dad had bought just for tonight’s occasion.

“Well!” Mom clasped her hands together. “Lets eat!”

Dinner was very quiet at first. We ate, Mom mumbled to Dad here and there, mostly about a new coworker who was a margarita lover. Cane and I ate silently, listening, but mostly observing.

I noticed that Dad's hand was clutched tightly around his fork almost like he was holding a knife. He sawed into his steak with the knife, on the verge of cutting his plate in half. Mom placed a hand on top of his as he sawed at his steak, and when he looked up and met her eyes, he released a deep, trapped breath. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It's fine, honey,” she whispered.

Silence swept over the table again. We finished dinner and were lucky Mom had so much to say about work and new clothes and new recipes, and how much fun she had making the pasta salad when Cane complemented the flavors.

When she rose from the table and went to the kitchen I went with her to help get forks and plates for the chocolate cake. I knew not to leave Cane and Dad alone for too long. When I came back Cane was focused on the table, while Dad was giving him a death stare.

I placed the plates and utensils on the middle of the table and Mom came in with the cake, cutting into it right away.

God. I wanted this dinner to be over with as soon as possible. Dad hadn't talked about anything yet, which made be curious as to why he even bothered inviting Cane to dinner. Did he want him to come, just to try and intimidate him? It obviously wasn’t working.

After the cake was cut, I sat and looked up, realizing Dad's brown eyes were boring into mine. He then looked over, putting his full attention on Cane. “So, I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted you here.”

Cane looked up. “I know why I’m here.”

Dad’s eyes shifted over to me and he looked me over thoroughly before putting his eyes on Cane again. “Why did you choose my daughter?”

“I didn't make a choice out of it, D. It just happened.”

“Yeah, but how?”

“I don't know. It just did. Just like you and Mindy happened. Spur of the moment that led to more.”

Dad’s jaw ticked. “When did it start?”

Cane gave me a sideways glance before focusing on him again. “She was eighteen.”

I thought that would give my father some sort of relief but I was wrong. Instead, it seemed to make him angrier. “I just…I don't get it. I mean, a look at the two of you sitting there and it doesn’t make any sense. I don't understand why she wants you so badly. What is it about you that has her so attached?”

“Perhaps you should ask her that, D.”

Dad met my eyes. “What is it, Kandy? Tell me so I can better understand.”

“I told you this before. On my first day of college I told you it just happened. That I wanted him.”

“I mean—shit. Is he really that good in the sack?” Dad asked snidely.

I frowned while Mom cleared her throat and scowled at him. “Derek,” she warned.

His head shook. Instead of continuing the conversation, he finished his slice of cake in seconds, picked up his plate, and stormed into the kitchen. Mom watched him go, and when she could no longer see him, she looked at me and Cane and exhaled.

I remember her constantly telling me to give it time, to let him think, and to let him breathe, but deep down in my heart and in my mind I knew that time wasn't going to heal this.