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With their orders placed and the cold mugs of beer in hand, the two of them began the slow, cautious journey of catching up.
Of course, they’d both been busy. Ronnie was still working, even though he’d moved from San Antonio to Florida. He’d wanted a change of scenery—a new start.
“It’s really good to see you, son. You’ve done a good job. Really made something of yourself. You’re my idea of a self-made man.”
Nick didn’t know about that. He made a good salary and he saved a good portion of it, but he certainly wasn’t Rockefeller rich. That was his idea of a self-made man. But he could see why he might think that. He took a lot of pride in not asking anyone for help. He liked his job. Did he like his life?
Until he’d met Becca and moved to Celebration, he hadn’t really had a life outside of work. Maybe that’s one of the things that was plaguing him, making him question what should be the best thing that had ever happened to him.
The truth was Nick thrived on change in work environments, but personally, in much the same way that he always returned to the chicken enchilada platter at Taco’s, he found comfort in the sameness of his personal life.
Becca stirred things up. Not in a malicious way, more like holding up a mirror so that he could see his life reflected back at him. It had thrown him out of his comfort zone and into chaos.
But the truth was, if not for her, he probably wouldn’t be sitting here with his father right now. They were both stubborn men. Who knew if either of them would’ve ever made the first move toward reconciliation if not for Becca.
You have to forgive yourself before you can move on.
The comfort of sameness was an illusion. It was also a bandit that robbed you of time and relationships you might never recover.
You have to forgive yourself...
“What happened, Nicky?” Ronnie asked.
The question threw Nick, because the last time he could remember his father calling him Nicky was before Caiden died.
“Why have we not spoken in all these years?”
A silent growl of defensiveness wanted to pop off something smart-assed and hard-edged. But he wasn’t seventeen years old anymore.
Ronnie must’ve mistaken his silence for blame, because he said, “Whatever it is that I did to you—it’s been so damn long ago that I don’t even remember—I’m sorry.”
Nick hardly recognized the man sitting across the table from him. His father was apologizing?
Apologizing. And it sounded as if he was willing to shoulder the brunt of the blame. That wasn’t right.
“It was my fault. I should never have taken my eyes off Caiden. If I’d done what I was supposed to do, he’d still be alive and I’m sure our lives would’ve all turned out differently. Mom might still be here—or at least I’d like to think she would, because the two of you probably wouldn’t have gotten a divorce—”
Ronnie held up his hand. “I loved your mother. I don’t want you to ever think that I didn’t. But our marriage had been in trouble for a long time. We just worked hard to hide it from you and Caiden. The cruise was supposed to get our relationship back on track. But it didn’t.”
“Well, it might have if Caiden hadn’t died. And that’s my fault.”
Ronnie stared at Nick for several beats. “Son, I know you blamed yourself after everything happened. I even lied to myself and thought that the reason you needed to get away was because losing your brother was just too painful. It was hard on all of us. But one thing I know right now, sitting here with you, is that I made a mistake letting you go away with so much guilt in your heart. If anyone was to blame, it was your mother and me for allowing you to shoulder the responsibility of your brother. You were just a kid. And you need to know your mother and I never blamed you.”
Nick’s instinct was to throw up the shutters. To clam up and retreat deep inside where he didn’t have to deal with these feelings. He’d spent a good portion of his life burying them because they were simply too painful to deal with.
“Of course you blamed me. It was my fault. I was the one to blame, and I will carry that with me for the rest of my life.”
Ronnie slapped his hand down on the table. “Well, you’re not the only one who has been carrying this guilt with you. How do you think it feels to know if I hadn’t been fighting with my wife that day my younger son wouldn’t be dead and I wouldn’t have ruined your life and driven you away from me? If I hadn’t been fighting with your mother, all of our lives might’ve turned out different.”
