“What?” I ask. “What did I say?”
“Nothing at all,” he says blankly.
“Yeah, right. You’re upset.”
“Itisnothing, Clee. No lie.” There’s an edge in his voice that feels cold. “It’s your choice. Your life. Your career. I don’t get a say.”
He won’t lay it out there. I sigh.
“Okay, fine. While we’re talking, what willyoudo with the money you get from all this? You must have a plan. You don’t wing anything.”
“Me? Nothing I haven’t told you before.” He blows out a breath, but he doesn’t relax. “Kit and my parents come first. Pay their bills, save some cash for the care they’ll need when they’re older. Then Kit’s college fund.”
I knew most of that already, but I nod, playing along.
This is good. Talking about the future, new dreams, the things we have in common.
We both want to save our small, imperfect families.
“But what about you-you?” I whisper, caressing his cheek.
He smiles.
“Don’t give a damn what happens to me as long as my little girl has her best shot in life,” he says, more animated now, the way he always gets with Kit on his mind.
“With you as her father, she will,” I whisper. “But there must be something. Come on, be selfish for a second.”
Another long pause.
I wonder how much thought he’s ever given to whathewants.
“I’ll probably take a step back from the private security game. I’d like to get into consulting,” he says.
“Consulting. Cool.”
“Surprised?”
“I thought you’d… I don’t know.” I laugh. I’m not even sure how much money he’s getting from this, but Gramps was generous. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever give up the bodyguard stuff. Unless you just retire.”
“Fuck that,” he says sharply. “I’m pushing forty, not seventy. Far too early to jerk off on pretty beaches or take my checks to Vegas casinos to die.”
I giggle. “Oh, come on. There are a million more things you can do in retirement than crank the hog.”
He snorts and shakes his head.
“If I get there, I’ll figure it out,” he says gruffly.
“You don’t think you can? Even after this?”
He hesitates.
“Depends. This old house keeps me paying out the ass for repairs sometimes. And moving out of Maine… No, I can’t imagine it. Certainly not before Kit’s grown and off to college.” He waves a hand. “Then I’ve got to think about whether I’ll hang around if she leaves Portland. Wouldn’t mind more time somewhere warmer, but I’m a Maine boy at heart, born and raised.”
I smile. It’s weird thinking about Kit grown up and thrown into the same scene I was in just a couple years ago. Where will she be in eight years?
Whowill she be?
Then I wonder where I’ll be, too.
