Page 50 of Falling for You Again

“Good night, Meli.”

I turn to leave.

“Why don’t you like talking about your parents?”

I stop.

“Never mind; I shouldn’t have asked. Forgive me for prying.” His finger taps the desk. He absently stares inside the mug of tea.

My instinct is to put off his question. I fear things will change between us if I tell him. He won’t look at me the same. He might not want to be around me. Paul never understood my relationship with my parents, since he was close to his mom and dad. He acted uneasy whenever I brought my parents up in conversation, so I just didn’t. But Aaron confided in me about his brother, letting me witness how the loss has affected him. He chose to trust me with that knowledge, his emotions. If that wasn’t him being vulnerable, I don’t know what is. I want to reciprocate.

I slowly turn back to him. “It’s embarrassing. I mean, who willingly works with their parents, lives in the same building as them, and constantly subjects themselves to their indifference? You saw them yesterday. It’s like that almost every time we run into each other. Imagine being stuck in an elevator with them.”

“That happened?”

“Longest five minutes of my life.” The power temporarily went out in the building. It could have provided a great opportunity for us to reconcile. But Mom chose to use the time to shop online for a plastic juice pitcher. I stood there like a fool, afraid if I forced her into conversation she wouldn’t talk to me again, not even at work.

“What happened with them?”

“At the risk of you wishing you didn’t marry me?”

“I’d never wish that.”

My mouth flattens. Doubtful. But I sit in one of the two armchairs facing his desk. Blueberry notices and leaps into my lap. I like to think he senses my unease and came to comfort me. I put my mug on the desk and pet my cat.

“My parents were functioning addicts. They missed a lot of me growing up because they were too drunk or strung out. I was too youngat the time to realize what was going on. I just remember the fun times, the times they weren’t using. It would go in phases, I guess. That’s what Uncle Bear told me. According to him, he was always running interference, saving me when things got really bad with them, especially with my dad. He was caught up in a rough crowd. He’d been like that since high school, the typical messed-up kid with the tragic past. His mom died when he was young, and my grandpa Walt raised him and my uncle. From what Uncle Bear tells me, Grandpa Walt only spent time with them when they worked with him at the shop. Otherwise, he wasn’t around.

“I remember some mornings waking up and there’d be some stranger passed out on the couch, sleeping off their high. Randoms would open my bedroom door at night, looking for the bathroom. We lived in a small apartment. You’d have to be pretty out of it to miss where the bathroom was.”

“Unless they weren’t looking for the bathroom.” Aaron says what I won’t. I can’t think about everything that could have happened to me.

“I know.”

“Jesus.” He’s appalled.

“Nothing happened.” I was lucky.

“One day, my dad got caught dealing to an undercover cop. It wasn’t his first offense, so he was sentenced to six years in prison. Mom went into rehab and Uncle Bear became my legal guardian. I was ten when I went to live with him. Mom eventually got out. I don’t know where she went afterward. I think she was living somewhere near the prison so she could visit Dad. But she didn’t come back for me, and when I asked, Uncle Bear wouldn’t take me to see her. He said she wasn’t herself.

“I was sixteen when Dad was released. He and my mom moved into our apartment building two floors down from my uncle. They’d visit him when I was there, but they never invited us—or, more specifically, me—over to their apartment. It was partially my fault. I was angrywhen they got back, which only pushed them away. But once I cooled off, the damage had been done: They didn’t want me to move back in with them. They said my uncle was my legal guardian now; I should stay with him. Which I did until I could afford my own place.

“I know addiction is a disease and they’ve been treated. I forgave them a long time ago. But I don’t know what I did to make them not want me back or, at least, get to know me again. I wasn’t the same kid they’d left behind. But I got over my anger a long time ago. I keep hoping one day they’ll say they still love me. I know, sounds pathetic. And wow.” I blink, stunned at myself. “That was a lot more than I planned to say.” I look down at my lap and keep petting Blueberry. He purrs deeply, a gentle vibration I feel in my legs.

Aaron doesn’t speak. He pushes away from the desk and comes to stand in front of me. He moves a sleeping Blueberry from my lap to the other chair. Then he takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. He hugs me. I stiffen in his embrace, and when he doesn’t let go, I slowly relax as a thought occurs to me: I’m exactly where I want to be.

His arms lower and I look up at him. “Where’d that come from?”

“I wanted to.”

He probably thought I looked like I needed it.

I did.

Chapter 17

Score One for Blueberry

The following morning, Aaron leaves on a four-day business trip to Los Angeles. Isadora’s table isn’t scheduled for delivery until next week, and I’m still in the design phase of my next project, so I could work from the town house. But it’s too quiet with Aaron gone, and if these are the last weeks I can work alongside my family, I don’t want to waste any hours. I also don’t want to miss anything if they talk about the acquisition. I’m still determined—and convinced—I can swoop in with an attractive offer and sway Uncle Bear to my side. I should be the third party he sells to. So I spend mornings at the shop, working on my new client’s bedside tables, and afternoons with Blueberry at the town house, drafting not just my business plan for the loan application but also my proposal for Uncle Bear.

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