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“No,” I shook my head, “not at all.”
“Yeah, I’d be surprised if she did. So, why are you being so short with her?”
For a moment, I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t know the answer. I just didn’t want to share it with Daniel. But my brother isn’t stupid, and a second later, he gasped dramatically. “Oh my god!” he cried.
“Don’t.” I warned.
“You like her,” Daniel had continued in the same excited tone.
“I said, don’t, Daniel.”
“What?” he had shrugged, a huge grin now slapped over his face. “She is kinda cute.”
I had parked the truck in the driveway and sighed heavily once the engine was off; both my hands still holding onto the steering wheel. Not only did I not want to have this conversation, the last person I that I wanted to have it with was Daniel. Like I said, he’s not stupid.
“I still don’t see what the problem is,” he had said, not moving from the passenger seat.
“I suppose I just don’t want to get hurt again,” I had conceded.
“But surely, there’s been other women since—”
“Nope,” I had replied.
Daniel’s jaw had fallen open as he gawped at me. “Really?”
“Really.” I nodded. “I know you don’t get it. And I truly hope you’re never in my position to find out. It’s not just the affair. It’s not even that she’s still with him. It’s the humiliation. The knowledge that half the town already knew what was going on, way before I did. I suppose—now that I really think about it—I’m angry. I’m angry at her for betraying my trust. And I’m angry at all those who knew and didn’t think it was their duty to come tell me.”
Daniel had not said anything. I suppose there was nothing he could really say. Before we left the truck though, I made him swear not to mention any of this to Dad.
“You know I won’t,” he had replied, looking a little hurt that I’d even asked.
“I know, buddy. I know.”
“Ahem.”
I turn at the sound of someone clearing their throat dramatically. Whoever it is, clearly wants to let me know they are there. I’m a little surprised to see Bree standing at the entrance of the barn holding a tray. On it is a tall glass and a large jug, filled with what looks like cloudy water, even though I know it’s Dad’s homemade lemonade. Small cubes of ice bob at the surface like tiny icebergs.
“Your dad sent me. He thought you might like some lemonade, with the day being this hot,” Bree says.
Her tone is entirely flat. The other times that she had spoken to me, there had been at least some hint of emotion, like she was actually making an effort. But that ship has sailed and I wasn’t on it. She is here because Dad has sent her. Something she obviously wants to make clear.
“Thanks,” I say, trying to sound far more friendly than I have been up to this point.
The truth of which is only compounded by the slightest movement in her eyebrow. She is trying to hide her surprise; but in my business, I’ve become more than capable of judging a person’s inner thoughts through even a slight change in their facial muscles. Knowing what people are thinking can make or break a deal.
“Here, let me take that off your hands.”
I stride the small distance between us and take the tray off her, placing it on the nearest surface. I’m not ignorant to her obvious interest in the workshop. Her eyes are wide, and her face is now clearly sketched with curious awe.
“It looks a lot different on the inside, doesn’t it?” I say.
I can’t hide the pride in my voice. I’m proud of my father for all the obstacles he’s overcome, all the suffering he’s endured, the strength that he has shown throughout his life, and the fact that all his effort has paid off. He built this business from scratch, and only ever saw any failures he encountered as a stepping stone. In truth, if I was half the man he was, I’d be happy.
“I’d say,” Bree says, taking a step into the workshop. “This is like the Tardis.”
I furrow my brow and frown at her. “The what now?” I ask, completely bewildered.
She looks at me as though I might have just landed on the planet yesterday.
