Page 78 of The Do-Over

“I like that I never know exactly what you’re going to say.” His eyes met mine, warm and unguarded, for a few seconds.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He grinned, shifting the mood. “Besides, I can be a jerk sometimes. I can give references if you don’t believe me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I pulled the two envelopes out of my back pocket and slid them across the counter to him. “These came in the mail today.”

Nate picked them up and frowned at the letter from Caroline. Without opening it, he ripped it in half and tossed it in the garbage can next to the island.

Don’t say anything. It’s none of your business. Do. Not. Say. Anything. Then my mouth opened. “Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Throw that letter away. Who’s Caroline Russo?” I winced and shuffled back toward the door. “I’m sorry. I did it again. That was nosy. It’s none of my business.”

“She’s my mom.”

“Oh.”

Ducking his head, he snapped a lid on the container of muffins. I stood there watching him. Again: awkward, thy name is Perci.

“I’ll just head out now.” Waving the plate in the air, I scurried toward escape. I only made it halfway before he spoke.

“My sister died last year. Last week was the anniversary.”

Slowly, I turned and walked back to the kitchen. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled the photo from the fridge and stared at it for a long moment, before passing it over to me. “This is her, Mara. Mara was three years younger, but we were close.”

My hand shook as I picked up the photo. Up close, I could see the sharp angle of her nose and chin, like her brother. “She was beautiful.”

“She’s Lilah’s mother. I’m her uncle.”

My eyes cut to his face as I pulled out a stool at the island and eased onto it. “But she calls you Daddy.”

“I’m the only dad she’s ever known. She heard her friends calling their dads ‘Daddy’ and when she started using it, I didn’t have the heart to correct her.”

He smiled faintly as his fingertips skimmed the photo. “We grew up in a rough area and it was hard to stay out of trouble. This scar?” His fingertip traced his eyebrow. “Bar fight when I was sixteen. I never passed up the opportunity to fight.”

“How did you get into a bar at sixteen?”

He arched that same eyebrow, a wicked spark in his eye. “I was good at being bad. Mom had her hands full with me.”

“What about your dad?”

“He left when I was eight. Haven’t seen him since.” He held up the photo. “Now, Mara was a good girl, always reading and studying. She wanted to be a teacher.”

“What happened?”

“Me. Or rather, the people I hung out with.” He turned to hang the picture back up, his shoulders rigid. “We were guys with no real plans for the future. I started community college after high school, but that didn’t last long. Too many things to do that led to nothing good. My best friend took a liking to Mara. They dated, she got pregnant, and then he got busted for drugs.”

I stacked my arms on the counter and rested my chin on them. “Wow.”

“He’s never met Lilah, and that’s just fine. We did all right, Mara and Ma and me. I straightened up and got a good job. Mara started taking classes.” He shrugged. “Then, about three years ago, Mara was diagnosed with breast cancer. The doctors all said it was rare for someone so young.”

“Oh, Nate. I’m so sorry.”

“Toward the end, she knew.” His shoulders hunched forward, and he rested his forehead on the fridge door. “She knew she wasn’t going to make it. So, she got a will real cheap off the internet and asked me to take care of Lilah. She died three weeks later.”