“I was getting the feeling that you weren’t sold on it.”
“Eh.”
He narrows his eyes as if he’s deciding whether to poke at me about this or not.
My brain wars over how honest to be with him, how transparent. Yes, he said we’d need to work closely together, but he’ll also be working with my grandfather on this project. That means that Wade isn’t my friend. He’s not automatically on my side.
“My grandfather and I …” I sigh, reaching for the words. “I just met him almost a year ago.”
Wade lifts a brow. It’s clear he didn’t expect this bit of information.
“My biological father was his only son,” I say. “I never knew him.”
“I’m sorry. That must’ve been difficult.”
“It’s not difficult when it’s all you know.”
Our pace slows and turns more into a meander. The rhythm settles my nerves with its consistency and ease.
“I hate to make judgments about my father,” I say, choosing my words slowly. “I’ve hated him, loved him, idolized a version of him that I completely made up in my head. My mom said that he came around a few times when I was a baby but never for long.”
Wade swallows hard. “I don’t mean to pry and you can absolutely tell me to fuck off and I won’t be offended. But your father was a Bowery. He had money. He had … the world at his fingertips.”
The thought feels unfinished and, when I look at Wade, it confirms my suspicions. He’s watching me with a hesitation that I’ve never been able to escape about my past.
“I guess he did.” I kick at a rock on the ground as we walk. “I know the story my mom told me and I believe it. I believe her. But I’m sure that if he were around, he’d have another version or at the very least his side of the story. So, as far as I know—what I’ve always been told, is that he wanted no part of having a child. And my mother, coming from a lesser socioeconomic background, would’ve humiliated him and his father. My granddad.”
Wade’s brows pull together into a furrowed line. His jaw sets.
“Mom got pregnant—he left. He didn’t want children, least of all by a woman with debt up to her eyeballs and no obvious way out,” I say sadly. “He thought she was digging her claws in for his money.”
We stop next to a pile of sticks. They’re on top of one another in a triangular shape. Wade inspects them as if his life depends on it.
“But it’s fine,” I say, my voice rising over the lump in my throat. “I’m fine. I had a great childhood without the Bowerys and I wouldn’t change any of that for the world.”
He walks to the other side of the pile and looks up at me. I can’t read the look in his eyes but whatever it is has me holding my breath.
The space between us feels vacant and uncomfortable. Something happened as I told him this story—one he was a partner to just a few seconds before. I wipe my hands down my jeans and take a step back, unsure how to navigate this awkwardness.
“What happened to your father?” he asks, his gaze both intensifying and softening at the same time.
“He died a few years ago. I got a notice in the mail. There was a clause in his Will that said he acknowledged a claim of fatherhood—which was weird because my mother never made any claims against him or put him on the birth certificate or tried to get money from him. Anyway, it said he acknowledged my existence, basically, and left me nothing.”
My voice is steady, my words even-keeled. It’s just facts. I’m sure it would hurt a lot more that I was acknowledged in a legal document had I ever known the man. But it doesn’t. What hurts is that he never wanted to know me.
“Shit,” Wade rumbles.
Yeah. That about sums it up.
Wade picks up a stick off the top of the pile and twirls it around his fingers. Finally, he tosses it aside.
“I’m sorry you’ve gone through all of that,” he says.
“Yeah. Me too.”
He nods as if that somehow tidies up the conversation. “Can we walk down to the water? I’d like to see it in case you choose to build there.”
“Sure. Yeah. Follow me.”
We start down the path again. The ground turns a bit sandier as we make our way to the water. With each step we take, the heaviness of our conversation seems to slip away.
I’ve never told that story to anyone in full. Rusti knows bits and pieces—more of it than anyone else … until Wade today. I’m not sure why I opened up to him, but it’s done. And there’s a bit of peace settling over my soul.
Wade rubs his hands together in thought.