Page 32 of Falling Madly
I nodded, hiding behind my wineglass. It was probably true. I’d never caught him gossiping. Was it possible my anger over the game design job had distorted the image of him in my mind? I’d been so convinced Trevor had shown me his true colors that I’d never stopped to study those colors more closely.
Something occurred to me. “Is this why Charlie calls you ‘fortress’? I thought it was just because of your size.”
He huffed a laugh. “Maybe it’s both. I hold a lot of dirt on a lot of people.” He tapped on his temple.
“You sound like that Sherlock villain! Have you ever blackmailed anyone? Do you have a mind palace?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’d rather be worth the trust placed in me. And most people’s secrets are nothin’ exciting. Once they work up the courage to share, they’re just embarrassing stories.”
“So, you receive confessions?”
He met my gaze head-on, and my smile wavered. He was so serious, like this was something he’d really thought about.
“I enjoy deep conversations. I share about myself, and others do the same. Where I grew up, it wasn’t the norm. Men didn’t open up. But I wanted to find connections that go beyond hanging out and watching sports. I don’t mean ye sit in cafes staring into each other’s eyes.” He gave me a comically long and intense look. “With guys, it’s easier to do something and talk at the same time. Side by side, not face to face.”
I chuckled. “Like parallel play? Toddlers do that.”
He gave a solemn nod. “It’s been important to me since I was three.”
As my laughter fizzled out, I considered his point. “It makes sense. I remember my dad being like that. Even though he’s an academic, I still never saw him talking to a friend without some kind of activity. They’d be barbecuing, or even working on a research paper, but there was always a reason. Mom would go out with a friend, sit in a cafe and talk. I do the same.”
“An’ where’s yer dad now?”
“In California. He had an amazing career opportunity a long time ago. It didn’t turn out to be that amazing, but it ended their marriage. And that’s how we ended up in Cozy Creek with Mom.”
“You, your mom and your sister…”
“Suzanne,” I offered. “She’s five years younger than me.”
“Do you still call every day to tell her one thing you did that wasn’t work?”
I finished my wine. “You remembered.” My head was spinning a little, in a nice way.
“Do you need to call her? You can use my phone.” He slid it across the table.
“Thank you. That’s not a bad idea. Especially if we’re stuck here overnight. It’s not like she’d call the cops if I don’t, but…”
“You’d rather she doesn’t worry,” he finished for me.
I nodded. Suspicion crept in again. “Is this how you get people to confess their deepest, darkest secrets?”
“By asking questions?” He laughed. “You say it like I’m playing mind games. I’m fascinated by you, Teresa. The questions pop up from me brain, I can’t help it.” He turned his palms up as a show of innocence.
“I’m going to need another embarrassing audition video to keep going.”
He unlocked the phone he’d set on the table between us, and obligingly fetched me another video. In this one, he looked a little older, his dark, wavy hair nearly shoulder length, brown kilt fabric draped over his shoulder. I recognized the monologue from Braveheart and my cheeks warmed.
He tried to close the video after a couple of lines, but I snatched it from him. “I’m not done.”
“At least turn down the volume,” he begged as a couple at a nearby table halted their conversation, listening.
I dialed the sound to its lowest setting but kept watching. This was the role he was born to play, complete with the thick Scottish accent I couldn’t get enough of.
“Your accent doesn’t sound like this.”
“Aye, ma accent doesnae sound like this these days.” He smiled, sounding perfectly Scottish to me. “I swore I wouldn’t change, but I’ve never been that good at accents. Turns oot I’ve got verra little control o’er it. Wish I’d figured it oot sooner.” He nodded at the phone.
I couldn’t stop smiling, staring at the phone. I would have watched him on the silver screen for hours.
