Chapter 16

Iwalked into my dad's house carrying three bags full of the ingredients to make dinner plus some healthier options for him to keep in his fridge and pantry. Being hit with the reality of how he wasn't taking care of himself was a hard pill to swallow. I'd convinced myself that seeing him at work was good enough, but I also had my best friends to spend time with. Even on the nights I went straight home, Chanel was there waiting for me, ready to remind me how much she missed me during the day. A lot of cats didn't like to snuggle, but my girl loved it. I felt like an asshole now for not realizing sooner that my dad went home to a quiet, lonely house, every single night.

"Dad, I'm here. I hope you're in the mood for steak because it was on sale," I called out as I walked into the kitchen with my shopping bags.

My dad meandered down the hall and into the room, watching me as I pulled items from the bags. "Asparagus. I haven't had that in ages."

I shrugged and continued setting things down on the counter. "People think it's more complicated to make than it really is. You used to love it when Mom…" I didn't mean to say that. The last thing I wanted to do was cast a shadow over the night. "I bought you some Greek yogurt with fruit. I know you like it, and it's an easy way to get some protein." Holding up two more packages so he could see them, I added, "I also got you some string cheese and a rotisserie chicken to pick at during the week."

"Ev, you didn't have to do all this." He sat down at the table with a grunt that caught my attention. I was used to seeing my dad in a suit every day at work, not a hair out of place, but looking at him now, I could see how much the last few years had truly affected him. Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes. His go-to casual, khaki pants were a little loose, as was the sweater I'd given him last year for his birthday. In this environment, away from the professional atmosphere of the store and a perfectly fitted suit, he suddenly looked so frail.

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." Ever since Enzo opened up to me, I couldn't get the awful things he told me out of my head. I didn't understand parents who could be so cruel to their kids. The things Enzo's mom said to him… And that fucking slap? My blood boiled just thinking about someone laying a hand on him. Especially someone who was supposed to love him.

I didn't have a close relationship with my dad, but I never doubted that he loved me. And he would never, without a doubt in my mind, lay a hand on me. I always focused on how much my mother cheered me on when I came out. It used to piss me off that my dad didn't go more out of his way to show he supported me. It wasn't until I'd heard how Enzo's mom treated him that I woke the fuck up and realized my dad had done a really significant thing. He treated me exactly the same as he always had. There was no fanfare, but there also was no judgment. I'd taken that as disinterest, but maybe that was the only way he knew how to say that nothing would change how he felt about me.

"What can I do to help?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I had it under control, but that wasn't what the plan was supposed to be. I'd said we'd cook together, and it was clear to me now how much he needed that. "Umm…" I looked at my simple ingredients. I didn't want to make this dinner too complicated, so there really wasn't much to the meal. "How about you peel the potatoes while I put the rest of this stuff away and get the steak and asparagus ready." I opened the drawer in front of me and got the potato peeler for him.

He took the kitchen tool from me with a chuckle. "How much stuff did you buy?"

Shrugging, I started to pull everything else out of the second bag. "Not too much. Granola bars, lunchmeat and bread, cans of tuna, the trail mix you used to love that M…" I almost did it again. Almost tacked on the words that Mom used to buy you. I glanced back over my shoulder. "Sorry."

The hand he held the peeler in landed on the table in a thump, a sigh of pure exhaustion punctuating his frustration with me. "Evian, where did this notion come from that you can't talk about your mom with me? It's not going to upset me if you do."

Anger I didn't even realize I'd been holding on to tightened every muscle. Slowly, I turned around and crossed my arms over my chest as some sort of comfort, leaning back against the counter. "You never talk about her. I just figured you didn't want to be reminded about losing her."

His hand loosened, dropping the peeler onto the table as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well to be honest, I thought the same thing about you."

Caught completely off guard, I stared at him as if he were a math equation I couldn't figure out. "What? Why would you think that? She was my favorite person in the world." How could he think I wouldn't want to talk about her? "It'll be two years this spring since she's been gone, and the closer it gets…" I gripped the counter behind me, the granite cold and unforgiving against my palms, and looked away, releasing a shaky breath. "I need to talk about her, Dad." I hadn't expected to jump right into this conversation so quickly, but I guess those feelings were closer to the surface than I realized.

"I'm not sure if you're aware of this, son, but we don't exactly communicate very well." He laughed, but the way it came out, it was obviously more to soften his honesty. His eyes drifted away from me and toward the window to his right. "I'm well aware that she was your favorite person. You had a relationship most parents dream of having with their children. Talking about things has never been easy for me. Your mom was one of the only people who knew how to put what I couldn't into words."

I was struck by what he'd just said. I'd said those same words to Enzo the night before, about reading in his eyes what he couldn't say. I'd never forget the way he'd looked at me in awe, and suddenly, I saw my dad in a whole new light.

For the first time, I focused on something other than my pain. It was easy to forget, easy to drown myself in my own sorrow, easy to lose sight of the fact that I wasn't the only one who lost someone they loved.

My anger deflated in a long exhale, replaced by unavoidable regret at being so blind. I laughed, even though the assumption we'd both made about the other was anything but funny. "So, we were both worried to talk about the most important woman in our lives to spare the other's feelings?"

He looked back at me, sadness in his expression so deep I hated myself for not seeing it sooner. "It appears that way." He cleared his throat and went back to peeling the potatoes.

It was obvious he needed a minute and, quite honestly, so did I. We worked in silence, preparing the asparagus and cubing the potatoes to boil. The steak wasn't going to take that long, so we had a little time to spare before I cooked it. Plenty of time to try and wrap my brain around how we'd both had the same thought about each other, yet we'd both gotten it so incredibly wrong. Considering we saw each other daily at the store, neither one of us had a good excuse for being so blind to the other's feelings. I couldn't change how we'd handled the last two years, but I sure as hell needed us to communicate going forward. She was the most important woman in both our lives. Her memory deserved to be celebrated, not set on a bed of eggshells that my dad and I were too afraid to step on.

My mom had never let fear hold her back. She'd loved with her whole heart and hadn't been afraid to show that love to me and my dad every single day. I wanted to be that kind of person, but I couldn't deny it freaked me out, too.

Being in Enzo's arms last night, he'd finally let his guard down, eager to explore everything he'd been afraid to have. Even though the thought of being that person for him lit me up from the inside out—and he hadn't even been inside me yet—it would only be until he went back to California. Would he use his knew-found sexual confidence and knowledge on someone else? I wanted to hurt the future guy who'd benefit from my loss. Yet, there was no doubt in my mind, if he wanted me in his bed again, I wouldn't hesitate to give myself to him.

"You seem deep in thought," my dad said, knocking me off my merry-go-round of confusion.

I felt heat rush to my face, thankful he couldn't read the not-so-PG thoughts I'd just had about Enzo. I didn't know how to respond to my dad. He'd never been someone I confided in, never mind talking to him about whether or not diving headfirst into whatever this was with Enzo was a stupid idea. I didn't have to get too detailed, though, right? My mom would've been the one I'd gone to in the past, but that wasn't an option anymore. The only way to see if my dad could handle the weight of my confused thoughts was to give him a chance.

"I've met someone." Well, that was more blunt than I'd intended.

His eyebrows hit his salt-and-pepper hairline, probably just as shocked as I was that I'd even said it. "Oh, um…" He tossed the last cubes of potato in the pot and handed it to me to fill with water and get on the stovetop. "Do I know him?"

"Not really. You did meet him twice, but it was in passing in the store, back before Christmas. He's the one who brought me soup and medicine when I was sick." I turned back around just in time to see him blanch. My heart sank to my feet with a thud, rising back up with a protective layer around it. "What was that look for?"

The way his eyes widened, either he hadn't expected me to see his reaction or his response was so unconscious, he didn't even know he'd shown it. He floundered at first, opening and closing his mouth as if searching for something to say. The somber expression as his gaze dropped to the table hit me square in the chest. "It occurred to me…when you were sick…" He shifted in the chair uncomfortably, rubbing his hands on his thighs, then tried again. "As you mentioned earlier…" His gray brows furrowed and a growl of frustration came from him that I'd never heard before.

There was something about the vulnerability in his eyes, the way they flicked to me and then back down, that made me really study the man in front of me. He was struggling so hard to say something that I sat down at the table and forced the scowl on my face to take a hike. "What is it, Dad?"

This time, he stood up and walked to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of iced tea. "Do you want some?" he asked as he opened the cabinet where the glasses were.

"Sure."

He poured in silence and handed me a glass then sat back down with his own. "I wasn't kidding when I said your mother was better at putting things into words for me. I don't think I realized how much I'd leaned on her like that until I lost her. The relationship you two had… Well, I wouldn't say I was envious, but I wasn't under the illusion that you'd suddenly start confiding in me that way once she was gone. Just like I knew you weren't going to suddenly be able to understand my hang-ups like she did." My dad leaned his elbow on the table and gripped the back of his neck, resting his other forearm on the flat surface in front of him. "I think maybe I'd convinced myself that it would naturally happen, though, over time.

"The night you left here, after bringing me soup and checking on me when I was sick, I knew I'd disappointed you. I disappointed myself, to be honest. I was feeling sorry for myself and that came across as me being dismissive with you."

I hung my head and huffed. "Not gonna lie. It didn't feel great."

"I'm sorry for that." I could tell how uncomfortable this whole conversation was making him when he shifted positions again, sitting back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Then you got sick and I thought, this is my opportunity to make it up to him. To show him I'm here for him even if I'm not great at saying the words."

A piece of the puzzle slid into place. "But when you got there, Enzo had already taken care of me."

He shrugged. "Silly, I suppose, to be upset over something like that, but I guess I'd sorta felt like I'd missed my opportunity to be that person for you. You already had someone else taking care of you. Someone besides your best friends." His somber gaze absently drifted to the window. "I'd taken too long to be the parent I should be. To be the parent your mom would've expected me to be. And, well, the shame I felt was overwhelming."

"Dad…"

"I know you're gonna meet a man someday and start a family of your own. Maybe you already have met him." I sucked in a breath and pushed the idea out of my head that the man in question could be Enzo. My dad, who was still looking out the window and hadn't seen my momentary freakout, continued by saying, "I just hope I haven't dug a ditch between us so wide, there isn't a possibility of bridging that gap anymore." He laughed, completely devoid of humor. "Although, I guess the fact that you call me Lloyd most of the time, instead of Dad, pretty much answers that question."

My spine straightened, my brain going on high alert, the shifted direction of this conversation giving me whiplash. "I only call you Lloyd at work. You really think I do it because I'm trying to keep distance between us?"

"Why else would you do it?" For the first time since this conversation started, my dad had a flicker of fire in his eyes.

"I'm a designer, Dad." I couldn't help the laugh I snorted as he looked at me in complete confusion. He truly didn't get it, did he? "When you call me ‘son' at work, I feel like you don't take me seriously as a designer. I want to stand out on my own merit, not because my dad is the owner of the store."

"I…" His cheeks flushed then puffed out on an exhale. "I'm sorry. I suppose I didn't think of it that way."

"Yeah, well?—"

"I'm not finished."

I snapped my mouth shut and stared wide-eyed at him, completely taken aback by his forceful tone.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I just need to get this out."

"Okay. I'm listening."

"I don't think you realize how proud I am of you and the incredible designs you create. I've never had the ability to envision a design and make it come together. I come from a long line of tailors, and I love my job, but watching you take pieces of fabric and create the things you do astounds me. I'm so damn proud of your designs, but more importantly, I'm so damn proud of you." He shrugged, the movement making him seem so defeated. "Is it so wrong to want people to know you're my son?"

Well, shit. I was an asshole and a fucking half. "It hurts your feelings…when I call you Lloyd." The fact that he wouldn't look at me was answer enough. "Now I'm the one who's sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. Me calling you Lloyd at work has absolutely nothing to do with how I feel about you as my dad, but I can see how it came across that way. I think, in a way, I'm still trying to prove my designs belong there because they're good, not because my dad feels obligated to display them."

He blustered incredulously, thick eyebrows pulled in a scowl. "Why on earth would I feel obligated to display them?"

It was my turn to shrug like a sulking child. "I'm sure Mom must have talked you into giving me a chance."

My dad reared his head back as if I'd slapped him and stared at me. "Is that really what you think?"

It was what I'd thought a second ago, but now I felt like a complete ass for saying it. He shook his head and pushed up from the chair, mumbling to himself as he walked out of the room and down the hall to his bedroom. I sat there dumbfounded, having no idea what to do. The water boiled over the edge of the pot the potatoes were in, sizzling on the stove. Jumping up, I quickly turned down the heat of the burner.

My dad strode back into the kitchen, holding a framed picture. He handed it to me then pointed at the glass. "Do you remember this?"

I lightly brushed my fingertips over the photo, tears blurring my vision. "Yeah. I was just thinking about this picture the other day, actually. I told Enzo about it." A watery laugh escaped. "She always got me. She had this way of truly seeing me, encouraging me."

He laughed sadly. "That she did." He paused and then in a softer voice added, "Maybe that's why I was okay with bringing my ideas to her and letting her make them come to fruition."

My head whipped up, trying to process what he meant by that. "What ideas?"

"That sewing machine, for one…in the picture that I keep framed on my dresser." My dad nudged his head toward the photo I'd told Enzo about that night on the phone. I stared down at the huge, goofy smile on my face while I sat next to my first sewing machine, love shining in my mom's eyes behind me. It hit me then who wasn't in the photo. The person behind the camera, who was apparently also the person responsible for one of the best memories from my childhood and the catalyst for my entire career. The person who apparently didn't need to take credit but, instead, just wanted me to be happy.

"Dad…" I choked out the word, not knowing what to say.

"Who's the tailor in the family, son?" He squeezed my shoulder. "I was beyond thrilled you showed interest in the field. You completely surpassed my expectations by taking that gift and soaring to heights I'd never been able to." Tears lined his gray eyes. "I was so damn proud of you, proud to suggest that you display your designs in my store. I'm realizing now I should've said it to you myself."

"When Mom said you both thought I should work with you and sell my suits, I just assumed…" Fuck, I was a world-class idiot. "Dad, I didn't know…" Embarrassingly, I couldn't even finish the sentence, too busy sobbing to get the words out.

He pulled me into a warm hug, getting choked up along with me. "That's my fault. I was content to let your mom take the reins. I never considered the message it was sending to you." He pulled back, still gripping my shoulders. "Your mother would lecture us both right now about learning to communicate better."

"She would, wouldn't she." She'd been the bridge between my dad and I, and since losing her, we'd done a shit job figuring out how to connect on our own. That needed to change going forward.

"I honestly don't know what I'd do without you manning that ship with me, Ev. Hell, if I didn't already know how vital you are to my business, the thought of Neil having to run the shop by himself last week if you and I got sick at the same time was enough to make me realize it."

"I thought you meant it would be inconvenient if I got sick at the same time as you and we had to close the store." My voice sounded so small, but honestly, I was emotionally exhausted.

"Inconvenient? If anything, I was worried Neil would be there alone. Who would stop him from oversharing and making the customers feel uncomfortable? Do you know he told me the other day, right there on the floor, about the hemorrhoid flare up he was having?"

"He didn't…" I burst out laughing.

"Oh, he did. He's a nice guy, but there's only so many times I can remind him what is and is not appropriate to discuss in front of clients."

The timer went off on the oven for the asparagus, reminding me I still had steak to cook and potatoes to mash. I wiped my tear-streaked cheeks and motioned for my dad to sit back down. "Let me finish this so we can eat."

"I may not be good in the kitchen, but I can at least set the table." He pulled dishes from the cabinets and set them out along with silverware and napkins. "So," he said, easing back down into a chair, "being that his name already came up twice tonight, I'm guessing Enzo is the man you're seeing?"

"Yeah…sorta… Maybe? I'm honestly not really sure where we stand."

"Sounds like you need to talk about it. I can't promise I'll give the best advice, but I'm a good listener."

"Look at us, communicating. Mom would be so proud."

He chuckled. "She sure would."