Page 116 of All We Need

What a mess.

I could ask forHarvey’scontact details, but the idea ofMartinbeing a buffer made this a lot simpler.It’sanything but.

As if sensing my doubt, he quickly says, “I’mgoing to write to him.Doyou want…do you want me to tell him who you are?”

My eyes drift to the window.Peoplewalk past, paying us no mind, oblivious to the two strangers whose lives have crashed together.Onein denial.Oneclose to quitting.Waterdroplets fall from an icicle hanging from the streetlamp, and after five drips and five steadying breaths,Iface forward. “Itwouldn’t make sense to lie.Mybiological mother’s name isRebeccaTimmons.Iwas born in a small town inNewYorkcalledRingwoodonMaytwenty-fourth, 1993.”Irecite each detail like items off a grocery list.

He nods. “Okay.Isthere anything else?”

“It would be helpful to know of any medical problems that run in the family.”

Tick.Tick.Tick.Justlike a business transaction.

In front of me sits my grandfather.Inside,I’mnumb.

MaybeI’mbroken.

Would a human who isn’t emotionally stunted react this way to finding a blood relative?There’sno how-to guide on how to navigate this.SoIdo whatIknow best.

Martin watches me silently asIgrab my purse and coat before standing.Hemirrors me, hands hanging limply at his sides.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.”

“Of course,” he says carefully. “Wouldyou like to?—”

The bell chimes, cutting him off.Idon’t want to know whathe was about to ask.Myheart and brain are warring against each other.I’mone depressing fact away from crumbling.

He blinks at the ground. “I’llupdate you whenIhear fromHarvey.”

If.Ifyou hear fromHarvey,Iwant to correct.

I wave goodbye toQuinn, who has done a terrible job at pretending she wasn’t watching our awkward interaction unfold.Nothaving the courage to say anything more,Imake a beeline for the door.

Martin’s words stop me in my tracks. “Couldwe do this again?Ihave some old photos ofHarveyyou might like to see.”

Ever sinceIstarted this journey,I’vestaggered through a network of passages.Mylife has turned into a labyrinth.ThemoreIwander, the farther away the exit.

I can’t rely on the man who hasn’t spoken to his son in over thirty years.Ican’t rely on the people of this town to not gossip about my sorry start in life.Ican’t rely on myself to say anything nice.Relyingon people is a mistake.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,”Isay rigidly before making my escape.

Feigning ignorance is easier.Whichis exactly whatIdo asIstorm downRobinRoad.Shouldersback, chin high, expectations low.

Patrick andJohannawatch me carefully asIenter the restaurant.Iignore the full house of customers asIstalk to the office, ready to bury myself in work calls and emails.Anythingto distract me.

Reliance is a weaknessIcan’t afford.

Which is why when the biggest threat to the strongholdI’vemeticulously built strolls into the room hours later, a carefree smile pulling at his lips, my shields go sky high.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

booth

The cornersof my mouth split asIplaster on a cheesy grin.

It’s that time of the week whenMrs.Stewartdemands she talk to the chef so she can complain about something ridiculous.Accordingto my mom, it’s been going on since our first week of opening.

Her whining is part of my routine.Ifshe didn’t show up,I’dbe calling the cops to carry out a welfare check.

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