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“Why not? Give them to me, and I’ll worry about them for you. They’ll still exist, but you can move past worrying about them. You’ll figure out what to do better if you’re not obsessing, or at least that’s how it works for me.”
He might have a point, even if I’d never considered giving someone my problems before. “Do you have anything you’re worrying about, Michael? I mean…other than killing Russian mobsters.”
His smile was slow. “I have something on my mind, but it’s nothing I need to turn over right now. I’ll let you know if I could use help, I promise.” He finished his chili and set his spoon in the bowl. “There is something I have to tell you.”
Well, that doesn’t sound good.Instead of admitting to the dread that balled in my stomach, I joked by asking sweetly, “The doctor said you were a total ass to leave the hospital early, so now you have to go back?”
He threw his head back and laughed. Pleasure flushed my cheeks because he got my joke.At least he isn’tlaughing like that at a statement I made that was meant to be serious.“No, nothing like that. Besides, I am the one who hired the doctor, so I think he’d find a better way to tell me I’m a jackass. More polite, at least, if not better. That was pretty good. No, I need to confess my mother and father are on their way here. In fact, they’ll be here any minute. Surprise!”
I dropped my spoon, my eyes wide. “What?”
“Yeah, they’re on their way. They always come by when I’m in town for a quick hello. That’s how they put it,always. They’ll be here, and then they’ll leave.” He shrugged and then winced at the motion on his wounded shoulder. I cringed in sympathy. He continued. “I tell them when I come into town, because if I don’t and they hear it from someone else first… My mother has spies everywhere, she could have been in my business. Anyway, if they hear it from someone else first, it turns into a thing because I didn’t tell them. To avoid that, I text them when I arrive. They come, visit a few minutes, and we get it over with.”
I bit my lip. Did he even realize how sweet it was that they wanted to see him so much? Then again, I didn’t really get how functional families worked—I’d only ever lived dysfunctional. I decided to confess as much, so I said, “I don’t know what that’s like. Having people who always want to see you when you’re around? That’s amazing, actually. I guess I have that with my sisters.” I looked down at myself, remembering the t-shirt and shorts. “Am I dressed okay? I don’t really have much nicer here.”
“You’re great. They’re not fancy people. But I realized I should probably tell you more about them. If nothing else, it will help you understand any undertones you’re going to feel. I know how you like to watch people. And your sisters always want to see you, by the way. No one would call your relationship with them dysfunctional.”
I tilted my head dismissively, but he wasn’t wrong. They loved me but they were busy. They had husbands and multiple babies. They’d started families of their own, which left me out—a strange sensation after beingone of threefor my whole life. Of course they made the time to see me, if I was near where they were traveling, which I rarely was, but I never thought either of them would want to see meallof the time.
Michael’s parents were so interested in him, they had a whole network of people watching out for him. It charmed me, so I said, “Okay.”
“My parents met in China. I was born just outside of Shanghai.” That much I had known so I nodded, but I noticed when he spoke of China, his vowels softened a bit. Almost like he remembered the accent from long ago and thinking of his early home brought whispers of the past back to his voice. “My father used to visit the Fujian Province with a buddy of his. His family—the guy’s name was Stan, by the way. He died a few years ago, but his family owned a factory there. Why my father came with him on that trip seems to be in regard to shady business dealings. He was clearly in China to fuck around.” Michael looked away for a second, his jaw tight in disapproval. “My dad had a wife and two children at home when he traveled. He married his high school sweetheart, and they had two kids by the time he turned twenty-one.”
I winced. Knowing your parents weren’t just human but were actually sort of bad people—or at least people who made very poor decisions—was rough. Even as an adult. Growing up with my father, I understood it more than most. “That. Sucks.”
“Yeah. It does.” He lifted his eyebrows, tilting his head in resignation. “My mother was from the area. She didn’t work at the factory, but her brother did. Anyway, they met. She didn’t know about his wife and kids. He would come and go from China, visiting whenever Stan did. I don’t know what he told his wife at the time about why he had to be in China so much. Her name is Philamena, by the way. It had nothing to do with his business, so I really don’t care to know. I’ve made it a point to be vague with them on this subject. I deal in truth and secrets, but I can’t handle theirs.”
I squeezed Michael’s hand. “I get it. I wouldn’t want to know, either.”
He sighed, squeezing my fingers back before stroking his thumb across my knuckles rhythmically as he spoke. “So, long story short, after about a year of that, he got my mom pregnant. He left like he always did and came back six months later to find herverypregnant.”
I could see where the story was headed. “Is that when she found out about Philamena?”
“Yep. Oh, and my mom waspissed.She’s not a wilting flower sort of personality. She told him to fuck off, basically. She explained he’d never see her again, or the baby—me—ever. And she meant it.”
Good for her.Obviously, it didn’t end up that way, but I wished I had her kind of backbone. “What happened?”
“He kept coming back, trying to see her, begging to see us. By the time I was two, he ended his marriage to Philamena. My mom still wouldn’t see him, though. I remember those years, but only vaguely. I met my father when I was four. By then, he was regularly there—every other month, basically begging her to marry him and come to the United States. He wanted us, but I think she met someone else.” He shook his head. “We moved stateside when I was ten. What a change that was! Suddenly I’m in Boise, Idaho, but for me, it might as well have been Mars. She refused to marry him and didn’t cave until I was twenty. His older two kids never wanted anything to do with us, so I grew up basically an only child here. My mom is tough. We love each other, although we rarely see eye-to-eye. My father and I…we can talk about sports and fishing, but that’s about it.”
I stared at him for a minute, letting the new information blend with everything I knew about him over the years. He was such a beautiful man, but the thing that really got me about it was it wasn’t just because of how he looked. Of course, the genes didn’t hurt, and the man somehow managed to get better looking as he got older. I shook my head, bemused. “You have spent your life creating safety and stability for people without it…because you valued your mother for making sure you always had it.”
He opened and closed his mouth. “I never thought about it like that. I suppose you’re right, though, Bridget. How do you always see things so clearly?”
I laughed. “I don’t. I’m always in a cloud of confusion.” It amused me to think I might have him fooled, though.
The doorbell rang. It took a real measure of self-control not to stiffen when I realized it meant they’d arrived. Maybe it was a good thing we were interrupted, though, since the conversation and comfortable setting seemed suddenly far too intimate. Michael gave me a look I couldn’t read before he walked over to answer the door.
Suddenly, my curiosity kicked in, and I found myself full of questions. What was he going to tell them happened to his shoulder? What was he going to tell them aboutme?
I got off the stool, guessing I’d find out shortly. His parents walked in as he opened the door, and each of them nodded to him before coming to sit down. It looked like they weren’t a huggy family.
“What happened to you?” his mother asked bluntly, then she pointed at his shoulder.
“I got hurt.”
That’s what he’s going to say?I wondered if it could possibly be a satisfying enough answer? I stared at his parents, trying to take them in and compare what he told me about them to the people they were today. Michael looked like his mother, with her dark hair and high cheekbones. Her eyes when they met mine showed that familiar steadiness I expected in Michael’s gaze. But he had his father’s height, too, and something about the shape of his face was also reminiscent of the older man’s.
They turned to notice me almost in unison. His mother looked between us for a second, her steady gaze seeming to peer into my soul. “Michael, who is the beauty standing there?”
