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It’s impossible not to hug her back, to kiss her as well.
God, I love her so much.
“Now, that realtor coming here wasn’t my idea. At least I didn’t invite her here,” I begin. “I called her this morning after you left.”
“Why?” Rachel asks.
“Because I wanted to buy your house, so you wouldn’t move. So you’d stay in the same city at least,” I admit, not ashamed to say it either.
She looks taken aback but then smiles wide. “You’d buy our house so I wouldn’t move?” she asks, making a little sound that makes me want to hug her all over again, but I force myself to focus on the facts.
“That’s right, I was gonna tell you how I feel. About us, and then tell your dad. I’d buy the house, and you could keep living there if you weren’t ready to move in with me. To live here, I mean.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth makes that O shape again. “You want me to move in?” she asks innocently, but I thought that was pretty obvious.
I try to keep talking, to tell her everything, but she has so many questions of her own already.
“What will dad do though? His new job… Our new house,” she asks herself, thinking out loud.
“I have an idea, Rachel. But it would be up to your dad. I could have him work on my projects, with me,” I tell her.
“Like you used to?” she asks, surprising me this time.
“Uh, yeah. That’s what else I wanted to talk to you about…” I try to say, but she shows me the photo instead.
It looks like she’s joined some dots on her own, but I wonder how she got this photo.
God, I look so young. I was… I was about Rachel’s age when this was taken. And David, he looks so… happy.
“I guess your dad already told you we studied together, huh?” I ask her, wondering just when he might have done that. Rachel never let on she knew who I was.
“Nope,” she says, a matter of fact. “I’m assuming because he didn’t that he hates your guts,” she adds. Stifling a laugh before slapping me on the thigh.
“I know you well enough too, Conor. You would’ve said something if you knew who I was and I sure would have if I knew who you were before we even...”
I have to agree with her.
“I figured you and dad must have some history, but what happened, Conor?” she asks me, sounding concerned.
“I dunno, it was so long ago. We were like best friends and worked on everything together. Then one day we had to do a major presentation in front of what felt like the whole school.”
“Ah,” Rachel says loudly, holding a single finger up. “Dad’s crap at speaking to more than one person at a time. Brilliant otherwise, but zero social skills. I should know, I have half his DNA,” she grins before urging me to go on.
“Well, he kinda froze during his part of the presentation, and even though we worked on the design fifty-fifty, he lost big marks for his delivery, but he still passed.”
“And you?” Rachel asks with a raised brow.
I blow out some air, throwing my hands up, and shrug.
“I took questions after, I rubbed shoulders with the right people. Your dad shied away and within less than a day, I was the new star architect major,” I sigh.
“By the time I got back to our dorm, your dad was gone, moved out, and barely stuck around to collect his diploma. Never said a word to me again after that day.”
“He never tried to even contact you. Not ever again?” Rachel asks, and I remember the lawsuit but wonder if I should tell her that part.
“I did hear from his lawyer. Someone else from college.”
Rachel’s brow creases.
“Your dad wanted to sue me once he found out I’d made a success of things a few years later. Claimed I ‘stole’ his design ideas from our shared project and used it in my first major solo contract,” I tell her, still shaking my head in disbelief as I remember those days.
“And did you?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her, as clear a conscience today as back then. “I was inspired by your dad’s work, but I never copied it. There’s a big difference.”
We sit in silence for a while. I look at the photo, wondering just how quickly times passed by. I’ve spent over twenty years working non-stop, almost letting my whole life pass me by in the process.
“You will stay?” I ask her, double-checking. “I’ll talk to your dad if you want, you’re an adult now. You can do what you want, stay where you like.”
She nods slowly, but I know we’re both reluctant to open the dad door.
I don’t want to hurt David a second time in this life, and I know Rachel doesn’t want to hurt him either. But if it means we can get on with our own lives, we have to do the right thing and tell him.
