Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

T hat afternoon, Patrick dropped into a chair next to his dad's bedside. His mom and Dolan sat on the opposite side. His dad's color had returned, and the doctor was optimistic about his blood pressure and stress tests, which was more than Patrick could have hoped for this Christmas. He didn't plan to upset his parents, but they needed to discuss the store's future.

"Dad, are you up for a talk about the business?" he asked as gently as possible.

Dad nodded and sipped from his water cup.

Dolan stood. "I'll just go?—"

"Stay." Patrick raised a hand. "You should be here for this."

His brother glanced at the faces all around him. He drew in a breath and sat back down.

Patrick cleared his throat. "We need to discuss the Mayfield store."

"Your mom told me about the fire. I'm happy no one was hurt." His dad patted Patrick's hand.

Patrick was elated he didn't have to have that conversation along with his own news. "Same here. But I don't think we should rebuild the Mayfield store. It's time to let it go."

His dad glanced between Patrick and mom.

"And I'm not going to be a part of the business anymore."

His dad struggled to sit up, flustered when the pillows didn't mold to his shuffling. Patrick stood and helped as his mom moved the pillows.

"You can't run away after one incident. That's not how this works." His dad's voice rose with displeasure.

"That's not what I'm doing. I need to branch out and try something new. Something that doesn't suck the life out of me and demand every single second of my attention. Maybe coaching?"

His dad shot mom a glare. "Did you know about this?"

"Calm down." She inhaled as if to trying to get him to breathe with her. "I didn't, but I think it's a grand idea. It's time. And since you're in no position to run off to the store, this is a fine time to circle back around to your retirement."

Dad scoffed like it was the most absurd thing he'd heard all day. "Don't be ridiculous."

Mom sat on the edge of the bed. "Here's what will happen. Eric will manage the Madison store for the next couple of months until we either sell or go out of business; either way the business will close."

"I can help with that," Dolan volunteered. "And that way Patrick can transition into something new, and Dad can continue to recuperate."

Dad shook his head. "It's too soon. It's the recession and inflation. We've hit a slump is all."

"That's not true," Patrick said. "The Mayfield branch has been struggling for over a year. Even with the updates we've made it would take a lot more to dig us out of the hole we're in. The GoFundMe page will help a little, but not much."

His dad inhaled as if on the verge of protesting.

Before his dad could say anything, Patrick continued. "Yes, I ignored your orders to bring the page down. I think we should go out of business gracefully and on our own terms. This will be hard. The stores have meant so much to us over the years. I'm glad I got to be a part of something so amazing." Patrick squeezed his dad's hand hoping to convey how much he loved working with his dad.

"We've had a good run." Dad looked at mom with a kind of half-smile on his face.

"Survived the internet and big competition for years." She kissed his hand.

Patrick looked from one parent to the next. He wanted that, a partnership. His parents always balanced one another perfectly. W ill I ever have this kind of relationship?

"Call Eric. Let him know?—"

Mom cut him off. "Don't worry. I know exactly what to say. I'm proud of you." She gave him a kiss before she stepped out to make the call.

"I'm gonna pop out, too, and check in with Emily." Dolan headed for the door.

"So . . . what happened to Sandy? I thought I'd see him today. Is he afraid a panic attack and high blood pressure is catchy?" Dad guffawed at his own lame joke.

"He went home." Patrick shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the idea of discussing his failed relationship with Sandy.

"When's he coming back?"

Patrick averted his eyes.

"Listen, I know you're not comfortable talking to me about your boyfriends and that you'd rather talk to your mom about it, but I'd really like us to talk more."

Patrick's jaw practically hit the floor. "What? I always thought you were the one who didn't want to know about my relationships."

"Did I ever say that?"

"You never didn't not say it."

Dad squinted at him, his brows furrowed. "Not sure I got all that, but you never came to me."

Patrick shook his head. "I did. I know I did." He tried to recall a time when he sought out his dad to discuss the men he dated.

"Once when you were in college, otherwise you bypassed me."

"Yeah, and you got weird. Really quiet, which freaked me out."

Dad shrugged. "I was trying to listen."

Patrick placed his hands over his face. After all these years, the truth had finally come out, and it was that his dad had been trying to be a good dad. He wished he could kick himself in the ass.

"You and Sandy worked well together. Even saved my life together. You sure there's not something there that you're going to miss?"

"He lied to me."

His dad waved a hand in the air like that didn't matter. "You think I never lied to your mother? Only problem is that now she knows all my tells, so it's impossible to do anymore. You talk about trying something new in your career, then why can't you do that with this guy? Try something new, try trusting that he won't lie to you again."

"But what if he does?"

"You gotta cross that bridge when you get to it. Decide if his dishonesty is a mistake or a habit. Do you think I wanted to forgive your brother? I didn't want to, but I love him. Sure, your mom pushed me some, too. I won't do that to you. You're not there yet with Dolan and the forgiveness—I understand that. It's okay. That kind of broken trust does something to a person. He's part of our family. But with your guy it could be something more if you give him another chance. Ya know I could be wrong, but I think you love Sandy, and that's why it's eating you up. Question is, are you going to let him go or do something about it?"

My dad is secretly Dumbledore. When the hell did this happen? Maybe I should have come to him years ago for relationship advice. Patrick sat there allowing the words to soak into him like alcohol in a rum ball, the wisdom just as potent as the booze in those decadent holiday treats. No, he wasn't ready to forgive Sandy, but he didn't want to give up.

"You goin' to Chicago or what?" his dad barked at him.

Patrick snapped out of it. "Yeah, I think I'm up for a challenge."

"Attaboy." Dad leaned forward and smacked his upper arm just like he'd do before Patrick's wrestling matches.

Suddenly, he was fired up. Patrick gathered his jacket, and bent down to hug his dad. "Be good."

Dad roared with laughter. "I should say the same to you."

Patrick waved a hand in the air and headed out the door. I don't think I've been this nervous since my first university match. He blew out a huff of air and strode down the hall. His dad's nurse for the day rounded the corner and almost ran into him.

"Excuse me, Mr. McCormick. I was just about to head into your father's room. Did you hear there's an emergency services alert for a winter storm?"

Patrick dug his phone out of his pocket, but he had it on do not disturb and missed all the alert notifications. "Son of a reindeer."

Sandy spent the next three snowbound days at Julia's townhouse. It was the worst storm in the Chicago area in decades. Thankfully, he hadn't gotten stuck at his parents' place. One night was more than enough, thank you very much, although, he had been constantly on the phone with them coordinating the details for the silent auction. His eyes burned from staring at the list of silent auction items his mom just emailed to him while working on cutting a new mat for another one of his black and white portraits. He was sitting on the floor with the mat between his legs, squinting at the laptop on the coffee table. The auction was turning into a larger affair that he'd dreamed.

"Please tell me I still have some cookies left," Sandy said to Moonshine as he climbed to his feet in search of sugar.

Moonshine barked as if telling Sandy that he shouldn't eat anymore.

"Hey, no nagging, no shaming. If I want to drown my frustrations in a pound of pure cane sugar then I'm damn well going to."

The dog sneezed in disagreement.

"You don't get a vote." Sandy popped the top on the Tupperware container where his gingerbread men were stored. He shoved one in his mouth as he slid over to the refrigerator to retrieve a carton of eggnog before searching the cupboards for a bottle of whiskey. As he whipped up his holiday cocktail, his phone buzzed from the counter. His mom's face filled the screen. He added another shot of whiskey for good measure before hitting the FaceTime button.

"Did you get the email?" His mom threw etiquette out the window when a new project was on the line. And thanks to Sandy's own big mouth, his love life was her new pet project.

Sandy held a finger in the air, asking her to hold on as he took a few gulps of his drink. He took a bite of cookie and chewed. "That's a lot of junk to auction off, Ma."

"Too much sugar. Stop eating and drinking or you'll look like Santa by the time he sees you. Check your computer. I sent the contract to you to sign."

He balanced two cookies on top of his glass as he navigated his way back to his laptop. "What contract?

"Don't be dumb. For the Asian Community Center. The board needs a signed contract for insurance and liability purposes."

"Yeah, but don't you like run the board?"

"Doesn't matter. Shut up and sign." She pointed at the screen like he was signing a piece of paper.

He set everything on the coffee table and took a seat on the floor. He opened the email and scrolled through the document. "Wait a minute, this says we're having it in two days."

His mom didn't blink.

"Two days! Have you gone completely jingle bells? There's no way we can pull this together that quickly."

"Ah, but yes we can."

Harley's head popped over his mom's shoulder. "We have the magic of the phone tree."

Sandy stuffed an entire gingerbread man into his mouth and washed it down with half of his lit nog.

Mom clapped her hands loud enough that Moonshine woke up and barked. The combination almost shocked Sandy into a spit take.

He placed a hand over his mouth as he finished chewing. "Don't do that while I'm eating."

"He won't want you if you resemble a fat panda."

"You are a horrible, awful, elf of a woman."

"Sign the papers."

Sandy dropped in his DocuSign signature and hit complete. "Done. Now stop bothering me. I have work to do." He worried his bottom lip.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I have a lot to do that's all."

"Your mom's right. What's eatin' ya, son?" Harley's brows met.

He gulped more nog. "Okay, what if he thinks I'm doing all this because I feel guilty and bad?"

"But you do."

"I like him and his family more, and I want to help them."

His mom and Harley did that collective sigh-and-gaze-at one-another that didn't bother him nearly as much as it used to. I'm getting soft all right. He dunked his second cookie into his cocktail and bit into it.

"Then tell him that when you see him," Harley replied, as if that was the most obvious answer, which it was. But Sandy feared it would come off as pressure, and that's the last thing he wished to do to Patrick.

"I'm sending out the email invites tonight." His mom slid that nugget into the conversation, blindsiding him.

"What?!" Cookie crumbs flew out of his mouth. A few stuck to the face of his phone. He set his cookie down. "I'm not ready."

"If you put the cookies down, you will be."

"Don't worry about a thing. You concentrate on what you need to finish up for the auction. We got the rest for ya." Harley winked at him.

Sandy gave them a frantic wave goodbye and ended the call. He covered his face with his hands and reclined against the base of the couch. When he dropped his hands, he noticed his cookie had mysteriously gone missing. Moonshine was chomping away on the baked good. All that was left was a gingerbread leg, and that appendage disappeared in the next bite.

"You're on their team, aren't you?" Sandy sneered at the pooch.

Moonshine barked and wagged her tail.

"Fine. I'll get to work, you evil dog." Plus, working could take his mind off thinking of the words he needed to say to Patrick. But were words good enough at this point?