“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” I chew on the inside of my cheek.
“Is that what the phone call was about last night?”
“Yeah.” I toy with the stem of my wineglass while focusing on the view. “My mom . . . well, really, none of us saw it coming. We definitely didn’t see any signs that he’d been having an affair for a while and wanted to marry his mistress.” His arm, which is around my shoulders, tightens briefly before he begins to smooth his thumb up and down along my arm, like he’s silently encouraging me to continue. “My mom has not been herself since then, but I think last night was her breaking point.”
“What happened?” he asks gently, never stopping the comforting sweeping movement of his thumb along my arm.
“She found out my dad’s taking his new wife to Hawaii, a place my mom always wanted to travel to with him.” I look at him, and his head tips down toward mine. “I think she realized what she was missing, not in my dad but in their marriage. Both my parents sacrificed a lot for my brother and me, and I wonder if part of that was the relationship they had with each other. I mean, I don’t know, but I think they got so lost in being parents to the two of us that they forgot why they were together. Or that’s what I think, anyways.”
“I get losing your way after having kids, sweetheart, but the cheating I absolutely do not understand.”
“I don’t get that part either,” I say, taking a sip of wine. “I would’ve never thought my dad would have an affair. Not when he always made it clear that his family was important to him.”
“Was?”
I know what he’s asking, so I answer, “I haven’t spoken to him since I found out about his mistress, and he hasn’t attempted to get in touch with me. My brother, Chris, hasn’t heard from our dad either. He’s completely cut us out of his life. The only reason I even know he’s still alive is because he and my mom have mutual friends that keep her updated on what he’s doing.”
“Jesus, that’s fucked up.” He takes a pull from his beer, then looks at me. “I’m sorry to say this, baby, but those friends of hers are not helping her heal. If anything, they’re making things harder on her. She needs to move on; she doesn’t need people giving her updates about your dad.”
“You’re right,” I agree. I’ve never thought about how those updates are affecting her, but I’m sure they aren’t helping her move on with her life. Actually, I’m sure they’ve been preventing her from moving on at all.
“Tell her that.” His thumb stops moving so his fingers can squeeze. “Tell her she needs to make it clear she doesn’t want the updates, and if they can’t be there for her without bringing him up, she needs to let them go.”
“I’ll tell her,” I whisper through the sudden tightness in my throat and chest.
“It will be easier for her to live her life without knowing what he’s doing with his. I told you about my dad being in love with my mom and her not feeling the same. It hurt him every time he had to listen to someone telling him she was seeing someone new.” He shakes his head. “It took him a long time to realize that all the time he spent analyzing every detail of her life, trying to find a way to make her see him, was preventing him from finding someone who actually wanted to be with him.”
“You’re very insightful,” I say, and the gorgeous smile he bestows on me nearly makes me skip a breath. “I really do think she’s on the right path. Tonight, she told me that she’s going to do all the things she always wanted to do, and she even insinuated she’s open to finding love again, if she happens to meet the right man.”
“She’ll find it.” He brushes his lips against my forehead, and my eyes slide closed.
I lean farther into him, resting my head against his shoulder and trying to figure out if I should have opened up like I did. But I wonder for only a moment before he proves once more that he can read me, even without looking into my eyes.
“I’m glad you talked to me.”
“Me too,” I agree quietly, feeling warm and safe in his embrace—something that’s odd, considering this is only the fourth time I’ve been in his presence. We don’t talk for a few minutes, and the silence between us feels comfortable. “What time do you have to go to work?”
“I’m the boss, so I can come and go as I please. When you tell me you’re tired, I’ll take you down and then leave for work. Until then, I’m here with you.”
“What time did you get home this morning?” I lean back to catch his eye. His first text came early this morning, even earlier than I got up to get ready for work.
“Close to six.”
“You must be exhausted.”
“I’m good. I slept most of the day, and really, I never need much more than six hours at a time to feel rested.”
“You’re lucky. I think I could sleep for a week and still not feel caught up,” I admit, resting my head back on his shoulder as the wine I’ve drunk and the day I’ve had start to catch up with me.
“When is your day off?”
I snort at his question, and his brows furrow in irritation. “The shop’s open seven days a week. I don’t have a day off. Well, I do have a half day Sundays, since I open at seven and close at noon.”
“Babe, that’s not healthy.”
“You’re probably right, but I also love what I do, so I don’t mind working so much.”
“I get that, but you also need time for yourself. You can’t work all the time. What do you do for fun?”
“Bake.”
He shakes his head. “Besides that.”
I think about it, trying to come up with one single thing I do for fun, and then realize I’ve got nothing. The last time I went out was for Leah’s bachelorette party, and before that it had been months. Prior to opening the Sweet Spot, I used to take pottery classes, go to book club meetings, swim a few days a week, and join my mom for yoga from time to time. Now all I do is work and sleep.
“I really need to hire someone full time to help out at the shop.” I sigh.
“Is your business stable enough to take on someone full time?”
“Yeah, I just get jittery when I think about doing it.”
“You’re smart. Taking a financial risk when you own your own business isn’t something you should do unless you have weighed the pros and cons. Do you have an accountant?”
“No, I’ve always done my own books.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t have a lot of overhead, so there isn’t much to manage.”
“If you want, I can put you in contact with my accountant. I’m sure you’re doing a great job, but Josh might be able to look over your books and tell you if he thinks it would be a good idea to hire someone right now. Sometimes a second opinion will help put your mind at ease and give you the push you need.”
“I’d really appreciate that,” I say, right before I suddenly cover my mouth to yawn. “Sorry, wine always makes me a little sleepy. I should have thought about that.”
“Don’t apologize. You need to go to bed.” He gets up, then pulls me up to stand in front of him, brushing his lips over my forehead before going to an electric box on the wall to turn off the heaters. I pick up his empty beer bottle and grab my glass, taking them to the kitchen. Not wanting to snoop to find the trash, I leave the bottle on the counter but drop my glass in his dishwasher.