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I follow, unsure what to do next.
“Okay.” I sit down on the chair a safe distance across from her and her sexy little outfit.
I can almost guarantee there’ll be no talking if I get too close, and I’m not here for that.
She takes a bite of her pizza and looks up at me. I watch her chew.
What? Is she waiting for me to start the conversation? All right, this shit was my idea.
“You said your mom is a psychologist?”
She nods, wiping her mouth with her napkin.
“What about your dad? What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a blue-collar worker. A mechanic. His hands are always dirty looking.”
She smiles as if the thought of her father’s hands brings fond memories.
“A psychologist and a mechanic? How’d that happen?”
“Right?” She laughs. “Between my mom’s professional attire and my dad’s greasy T-shirts, people always wonder what they’re doing together.”
“How’d they meet?”
“My mom was in college. She had a minor accident, and my dad fixed her car. She said from the moment she met him, she fell in love with him and his hands.” She chuckles as if there’s more to the story.
“And you have a brother? Is he older or younger?”
“Noah. He’s younger. He’s still in California with my parents. He just passed the NICLEX to become a nurse. He’s your typical Cali fitness freak, loves the beach and surfing, but he’s got a kind soul and a big heart. The profession suits him.” The mention of her family brings another warm smile to her beautiful face. They mean a lot to her.
“What about you? Did you always want to work in marketing?” Yes. It’s best if we keep the conversation about her. Not me.
“I think so. It started when I was a kid.” She slumps back into the sofa. “I collected brochures.”
“Brochures?”
“Yes. The first time I went to the dentist, I was so nervous. I picked up a brochure. There was a picture of a girl smiling on it, and seeing that happy girl somehow eased my anxiety. So everywhere I went, I started to collect them. There’s so much information in them and so many kinds, bifold, trifold, z fold, and gold fold.”
“Gold fold?”
“It’s a document folding method that uses two parallel folds to create six panels. They’re a little more expensive but beautiful. My favorite is trifold. It’s old-school, but I find it’s the best presentation. I have brochures on subjects from venereal diseases to the best places to stay while visiting California, and let me tell you, there are a lot of places to visit in Cali. I have hundreds and still counting. My dad built me a chest to store them all. I mail them to my mom, and she adds them to my collection.”
“Venereal diseases?”
She laughs again, igniting the sparkle in her eyes. “I found a brochure at the doctor’s office when I was twelve, and my mom, the therapist, couldn’t help herself. She explained it all to me. Sometimes, I wished I had a mom who wasn’t so open-minded and willing to talk stuff out all the time or psychoanalyze me.”
“I don’t know. I think she did a good job. You’re a strong-minded woman. You’re not afraid to go for what you want, and don’t shy away from a challenge.”
She stares at me for a long moment as if she doesn’t know how to respond to the compliment. “What about you? Did you collect anything when you were younger?”
I rub my hands on my jeans. “Well, when I was eight, my dad got me a baseball bat signed by some rookie. It became a tradition. Every Christmas, he’d buy me a new one.”
“You like baseball?”
“No. But my mom signed me up in Little League, and it made her smile to watch me play. My dad was a huge baseball fan. Although he never came to my games. But he got me a rack for those fucking bats. It held six. When I’d hear my parents” —I clear my throat— “fighting, I’d stare up at it, promising myself when all six racks were full, I was going to use every bat on my father. I’d be big enough then. I’d hurt him like he was hurting her, but I never got the chance. There were only four bats on the rack when he, ah. When my mom—”
“Brett,” she whispers my name.
