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“He knows me a little too well, I’m afraid. And maybe you do, too,” I added.
Was there a hint of embarrassment on Brady’s face? I wanted to think so, but it was hard to be sure.
“I thought maybe we could eat over at the worktable. Or, um, that I’d join you there? If you don’t mind, I mean.”
I tried to suppress a laugh as he stumbled over his words. Yeah, there was definitely a little extra redness in his cheeks.
Good thing he doesn’t realize how cute that is.
There was something else I had noticed in Brady’s expression, though. Something that had been temporarily hidden behind the smile and the flush of heat but had become clearer as he let his guard down and started pulling food out of the bag.
Watching him, it was easy to see that he was tired.
I had spent all morning thinking about how moving Henry’s stuff was makingmefeel, but I hadn’t really considered the impact it might have on Brady.
“Has it been busy down here this morning?” my boss asked as he divided up the little sandwiches and pastries between us. “I’ve been so caught up in deciding what stays and what needs to get thrown out or put in storage that I haven’t even had time to check.”
“It’s been pretty slow, actually. It’sfeltbusy, with those movers coming and going.” I paused for a moment, wondering if I should ask the question that was on the tip of my tongue. It wasn’ttoopersonal, and I was legitimately curious. “So, do you think you’ll be staying upstairs instead of at the hotel, now that things are… different?”
Brady picked at the crust of his bread for a few moments before answering. “I’m not sure. Ishould. I can’t really justify spending more money on a hotel room—especially not for another month—when there’s a perfectly good apartment right here. That would just be dumb.” He shrugged. “But it still feels like his space, you know? Like no matter what I do, I’d still be spending the night in his apartment.”
I studied his face as he spoke. Spending time among Henry’s things—in Henry’s space—clearly wasn’t an idea that Brady was comfortable with. And that was… sort of understandable? But the placewashis now, like he’d said. He’d have to come to terms with that at some point.
“Yeah, I get that,” I said, trying to decide whether or not to keep the rest of my opinions to myself. But I felt like I understood Brady a little better after working with him so closely for a few weeks, and the things that were on my mind sort ofneededto be said. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I think it might actuallyhelpthe way you feel about the place—the shop, the apartment, all of it—once you stay upstairs for a couple of nights. I mean…”
I swallowed hard, second-guessing myself a little under Brady’s intense stare.
“I obviously don’t know what the issues were between you and your dad, but maybe… I don’t know, maybe you can get some closure. Or maybe even start to—understand? —him a little better.”
I couldn’t tell from Brady’s expression whether I should say more or not, so I decided it was probably best to wrap up my thoughts and keep the conversation moving. I had said what I’d needed to say, after all.
“I understand what you mean when you say it still feels like his space, though. There are a lot of times that I feel like he’s still here, too. Like he’s still watching over things.”
“Is that why you love this place so much?”
The question caught me off guard, and I blinked for a moment as I considered what I should say. The easy answer was yes, of course. But under Brady’s intense gaze, I wasn’t sure if the easy answer was the best one. Still, no matter what he was looking for, the truth was really all I could offer.
“Yeah, if I’m being honest, I guess that’s a big part of it. I mean, I like the customers, and the work, and of course Naomi. But… yeah, at the end of the day, your dad was a big part of the reason for me staying here so long.” Then, before I could stop myself, I added, “Is that why you hate it so much?”
As soon as the words left my lips, I wished I could take them back. The expression on Brady’s face made it clear that I had crossed a line, and even though that really hadn’t been my intention, the question still hung in the air between them.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, that’s okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “I’m pretty sure I know what you meant. And if you really wanna know? Okay, maybe that does have something to do with it.” Then, in a more subdued tone, “You should know, though, that I don’thateit. My mom’s name is on the door, after all. I couldn’t ever hate it.”
But you could still sell it.
At least I had the presence of mind to keepthatthought to myself.
We sat in silence for several long minutes, not making eye contact, not evenlookingin the other’s direction. Then, abruptly, Brady’s head snapped up, and when he spoke again, there was a pain in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“Did he ever talk about me?”
Damn, he really wasn’t pulling punches with his questions.
For a split-second, I reconsidered my honesty-is-best policy. But no. It was a valid question, and he deserved an honest answer. If he was going to rely on me to be some kind of bridge between him and Henry, I had an obligation to be as truthful and accurate as possible.
“Not very often,” I said, finally. “But the thing is, when he did?” I paused and snorted a little as I pictured my old friend. “He got the same sort of look on his face that you get when you talk about him. Like, a nearly identical expression.”
