“You’re quiet today.”
He glanced over—but her focus remained on the wallpaper as she methodically scraped off one tiny piece after another.
Though Katherine’s inflection hadn’t reflected annoyance, as Lissa’s had near the end, hearing those same words again stirred up memories of her—perhaps because that terrible period in his life, when he’d lost Josh and struggled with life-changing decisions and incurred his father’s anger, was on his mind.
And Lissa had been part of that.
A major part.
Katherine peeked over at him. “Sorry. That wasn’t a criticism.”
“I didn’t take it as one. It’s just that you aren’t the first woman to say that to me.”
“Stephanie remarked on your reticence too?”
“No.” He went back to peeling off wallpaper.
After a moment, she did too.
But unless he wanted to shut down communication between them, he owed her an explanation. His reply had been too terse—and left too many questions hanging.
Besides, why keep his relationship with Lissa a secret? It was over. And that painful piece of his history had turned out to be a blessing.
He stopped scraping and gave Katherine his full attention. “The other woman who used to tell me that was my fiancée.”
She froze. Sent him a cautious look. “You were engaged?”
“Yes. We broke up after I decided to leave Chicago. Lissa was a model, with lofty career and personal goals. I asked her to come with me, but being married to a barista wasn’t part of her game plan.”
Katherine’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”
“I was too—at the time. Not so much now.” He wanted no doubts about that to linger in her mind. “It hurt to discover her feelings for me were based more on my position and earning power than love—but in hindsight, the breakup was a blessing. I don’t think either of us would have been happy in the long term, even if I’d stayed in Chicago. After Josh died and my priorities shifted, I realized we had far less in common than I thought . . . and that what I’d classified as love was more like infatuation. It’s hard to build a long-term relationship on such a shallow emotion.”
“Still—a broken engagement on top of everything else. You had a lot to deal with back then.” Twin furrows scored her forehead.
“Yeah.” He tugged at a loose strip of wallpaper until it pulled away from the drywall—but small remnants remained stuck to the surface. Ones it would take considerable elbow grease to scrape off. “I still do.”
The instant the admission slipped out, he gritted his teeth. With everything going on in Katherine’s life, it wasn’t fair to dump his latest issue on her shoulders.
“Does that mean a new problem has come up?”
“Sort of.” He wasn’t going to lie. “But I’ll deal with it.” He began scraping off the stubborn residue from the last piece of wallpaper he’d removed.
After a few beats of silence, she spoke again. “You listened to my story that day on the beach—and talking through the situation helped. I’d be happy to return the favor. If we close that”—she motioned to the bedroom door—“we’ll have privacy—and I promise to keep whatever you tell me between us.”
Her offer was tempting. An impartial, third-party sounding board—someone who could view the situation without any of the biases he or Stephanie brought to the table—might be helpful.
And he didn’t have to dump the whole mess on her. He could keep it simple. Give her a top line of the current situation, let her offer a few thoughts.
Any input that could help clarify his thinking would be welcome.
Running his finger along the edge of the scraper, he turned to her. “I wouldn’t mind getting someone else’s read on this—and I can give you the gist of it in a couple of sentences.” After closing the door, he relayed the news about his dad’s medical condition—but left out the history piece Stephanie had shared. “I’m trying to decide whether to show up in Atlanta for the surgery.”
Her brow puckered. “I don’t want to be morbid—but how will you feel if there are . . . complications . . . during the operation, and you stay here?”
She’d homed in on the same question he’d been wrestling with.
“I don’t know.”
“What’s keeping you from going?”
Also an excellent question—and one he hadn’t yet pondered.
But now that she’d posed it, the two answers that sprang to mind didn’t sit well.
The first was fear.
Fear of rejection—again. And fear that if a cross-country trip didn’t mend their fences, his last embers of hope for a reconciliation would be snuffed out and his relationship with his father would forever remain broken.
The second was pride.
Putting himself in the position of having his priorities and new career belittled—again—twisted his gut.
Katherine didn’t wait for him to answer before hitting him with a follow-up question.
“And whatever’s holding you back, is it more important than taking this opportunity to try and end the estrangement? Traveling across the country to be with him could send a powerful message.”
“Or not.” Zach rolled a small piece of wallpaper into a tight ball between his index finger and thumb. “He could throw it back in my face. Refuse to talk to me.”
“People can feel differently when faced with their own mortality.”
He studied her. Did that subtle nuance in her tone mean she’d witnessed such a transformation in her own life?
“Is that experience speaking?”
“Not directly. But I’ve played a few roles that forced me to dig deep and think about those kinds of issues. When you speak the words of a character dealing with a life-and-death situation, you develop an understanding of why people do what they do, even if you don’t agree with or approve of their behavior. Rifts can be mended in that environment, if both parties are willing—and want that outcome.”
“That’s a big if.” He flicked the ball of wallpaper off his finger. “I’ve already tried to mend our fences. The onus to repair the damage in our relationship isn’t on me at this point.”
She cleaned the edge of her scraper with a rag, removing all the jagged bits. “I didn’t mean to imply it was. From what you’ve told me, your dad was pretty unreasonable in his response to the choices you and your brother made. It was almost like he was viewing the situation through an off-kilter lens that was distorting his perspective. Or operating from a very narrow frame of reference that gave him tunnel vision.”
Tunnel vision.
Narrow frame of reference.
Distorted perspective.
That nailed his father’s issue.
Had Katherine listened in on Stephanie’s story this afternoon?
Not possible.
Which meant the lady had excellent instincts. Honed, perhaps, by her career—as she’d noted.
“That about sums up my dad—although he does have an excuse for being that way, as I recently learned.” Saying any more would divulge secrets his father had gone to great lengths to protect—and at this stage of his relationship with Katherine, that would be disloyal to his dad.