Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Barrett

I 'm awoken the next morning by the crack of thunder and the sound of rain hitting the metal roof of my home. In my arms, Gabby stretches, exhaling deeply. She rolls over, giving me a sleepy smile. "Do you think I made the right decision in closing due to inclement weather? Most people don't think about doing that unless it's for winter weather."

I wrap my arms tighter around her waist. "I think you're the owner of your business and you can do whatever it is you want. Considering we hardly ever get the same days off together, I'm happy to be here with you. Part of me doesn't even care what caused it. I know that we could have some rough weather today, but at least we'll be together."

"There's no other place I'd rather be."

She got here super late last night after the two of us were texting, and we were both so exhausted neither one of us had a whole lot to say. So, I'm very interested in what happened with my mom. "You didn't get a chance to tell me last night about what happened with Mom."

"Marie is a very nice woman who loves you like crazy."

"On a first name basis, huh?"

"Yeah." She grins. "It was the sandwich I make especially for you. I gave it to her, too."

"Oh, that was a good call. She's a fan." I scoot up so that I can lean back against the headboard and pull her into my arms. "What did she say to you? I've always wondered what her big issue was with it, but I could never get her to be honest with me about it."

She hesitates. "I don't know how much you're aware of your parents' marriage and divorce. I don't want to do anything that's going to hurt you, don't want to say anything that you don't already know." She chews on her bottom lip.

There have been times in my life when I've put both of them on a pedestal, because I didn't know what was the correct thing to do. I knew that I'd piss one or both of them off and I would mistakenly believe that it wouldn't matter, but it always did. "I know very little other than the fact that if I would be happy with one of them, it would piss the other one off. It got to where I couldn't be excited on the weeks my dad would get me for summer break, and then be equally excited when mom would get me for Christmas break. Dad was much better at the summer, and she was much better at the holidays. If I couldn't have them together, then I wanted the best of both worlds." I shrug, realizing now how they could've thought I was playing favorites.

"That makes sense, Barrett. You were a kid."

"And then a teenager, and a young twenty-something who has continued to play them against one another. It's basically the only thing I knew to do."

She runs a hand along my stomach, causing goosebumps to raise along the trail. "Your mom told me a few things you'd probably like to know if you're willing to listen."

I've never been willing to listen previously, thinking that everything I heard about the two of them was always half-truths and it would go through one ear and out the other. I never wanted to get too involved in either one of their stories because I was worried it'd make me favor one over the other. But now maybe it's time to listen to what my mom has to say. Regardless of whether it's the truth, it's hers. "Okay, I'd love to know what the two of you talked about today."

She grabs my hand in hers, flipping it over to run her fingertips along the lines on my palm. "She said that she and your dad had an age gap between them..."

"Yeah..." I sigh. That had always been something that my mom talked about, never my dad, other than saying he preferred younger women. Funny how I went the complete opposite direction. "They did, and she always threw it in his face, that she was younger than him."

"Hear me out," she starts, running her tongue over her lips. "I think the reason she threw it in his face is because she felt like he held her age over her head. She mentioned that any time she tried to stand up for herself, or told him she wanted a divorce, he said there would be no way she could do it because he made more money than her and was more in control of the relationship than her."

I'm quiet, thinking back to everything I thought I knew as a young kid. Was I seeing it in a way that I could understand, but wasn't the truth? "I've never looked at it that way," I admit. The admittance is harder than I imagined.

"You were a kid who had no idea what was going on between his parents, I have no doubt you wanted the best for both of them. There's no way anyone could have expected you to make grown up decisions as a kid."

"But then I became an adult, and although she tried to talk to me, I still didn't want to listen."

Her hand caresses mine. "Well, she spoke to me, and she knew you'd listen to me. Maybe that's why she chose to do it. She said because money was tight she'd take you to her second job?"

Fond memories come flooding back of me laying in a booth, catching up on sleep while my mom served the early morning crowd. Of sitting in that same booth eating pancakes, bacon, and hash browns while coloring, or doing the small amount of homework assigned to us at my age. There was always something to do, and she was always on her feet. When she'd take small breaks, she'd always come to sit with me, and I would treasure those times. "Yeah, she would. Back then I went through times of loving it and hating it. There were times when I resented having to go, and others when I enjoyed it. I don't think I realized how much it was needed. I thought she did it because she didn't want to be alone. That's what other people in our lives said."

Gabby runs a hand through my hair, before dropping a kiss to my forehead. "She did it because you needed to eat, and she didn't want to count on your dad to always provide for your needs. It was pride, but at the same time it was survival. I feel this, Barrett. It's what I came from, too."

We've never talked about her ex-husband, and part of the reason is because I didn't want to hear about him. She loved him enough to marry him, and that makes me slightly insecure. They were in love, and she said yes. Would she say yes to me if I asked? That's a question for another time, but I can't help but think about it. "Would you like to tell me about him? I haven't asked because I didn't necessarily want to hear about a man you loved more than me, or someone who had you before I did. Call it my immaturity or whatever, but if you want to talk about him, I'm willing to listen."

"Only if you want to hear. It might help you understand me better..."

That's worth me pushing aside whatever preconceived notions I might have or fear that I'm nerve going to measure up. If I don't give her what she may need then I'm not the man for her, and that's the scariest thought I've ever had. "I'm not going anywhere, Gabs. We've got all day with this storm. I'm here to listen as long as you want to talk."