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“I’m definitely a fan. However, I think I need more than the average person.”
“How so?”
He lets out a breath, his fingers playing with the paper napkin in front of him. “I’m trying to be a better man.”
“Graham.” I tilt my head to the side. “You’re a great man.”
“I’m not, though,” he says. “I’m trying to be. But I definitely haven’t been in the past.”
I give him an understanding nod. I don’t know specifics, but now even Graham is warning me off, thanks to freaking Ryan going all protective brother on me after we played pickleball. I don’t see it, though. The Graham I’ve come to know and the other Graham I’ve heard things about don’t seem like they could be the same person.
“I think we all have things we can work on,” I tell him.
“I’ve got some deep-seated issues, though,” he says.
I dip my head once for him to continue. I want to know what he has to say, but I also don’t want him to feel like he has to tell me.
“I’ve got daddy issues,” he says, and then lets out a self-deprecating chuckle.
I smile at the way he just blurted that out. “What kind of daddy issues?”
“My dad ... is not a good man,” he says. “He’s cheated on my mom multiple times, and I’m the one who caught him.”
I rear my head back, wondering how exactly he caught his dad cheating. “You caught him?”
He nods, the corners of his lips pulled down. “When I was around eighteen, I hacked into his social media account and I saw the messages between him and, I believe”—he looks up to the sky as if he’s trying to remember—“that time it was his assistant.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “That must have been hard.”
“There’ve been more; I don’t even know how many.” He shakes his head, looking out the window. “Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a shock. My parents were always fighting, especially when I was younger. I used to hide outside under this tree in my backyard, or at your house.”
“You’re in most of my memories at that house,” I say. It was hard when my parents sold it a few years ago to build their new place.
“I think what’s hardest for me is that my mom stays. Even knowing, she stays.”
“Have you ever asked her why?”
“I have, and she can’t really give me an answer.”
I nod, taking that in. My parents’ relationship has always seemed so solid to me. They argue, for sure. My mom has always been honest about how marriage can be a hard thing, but she always made sure to let me know it was worth it, too. I think my world would feel like it had imploded if I found out either of my parents had been unfaithful. I might lose faith in humanity as a whole.
“That must be hard, Graham,” I say. It’s the only thing I can think to say right now.
“It is,” he says, his reply barely audible over the din of the room.
“Do you feel like the therapy is helping?”
He nods. “Definitely. I feel like it helps me figure out why I do the things I do.”
“And why do you do the things you do?” I ask before taking a sip of my water.
His lips pull up on the sides, ever so slightly. “I think some of the choices I’ve made in the past were to protect myself. If I never got serious with anyone, then they couldn’t hurt me.” His face falls. “But I ended up being the person that hurt others instead.”
The sad, vulnerable look on his face breaks a little part of me. I lean toward the table, putting my elbow on the edge and leaning my cheek on my hand, feeling strands of my still-damp hair as it falls forward.
“And . . . now?”
“Now?” he asks, his eyebrows moving up his forehead. “I’m taking it a day at a time. Doing my best. Maybe I’ll become a hermit.”
