37. Justin
thirty-seven
Idon’t see Chloe’s text until I stop for gas on my way back from the place where I’ll be catering. Sometimes I get in my head, I space out, focus on the task at hand, and just forget to check in.
That’s the scary part of being in a relationship. You need to be there for people.
Can I do that for her?
And then I read her text over, and wonder—can she do that for me? Be that for me?
I’m bummed that she won’t be with me tonight, but I’m not in a rush to bring her to the farm as my girlfriend. Certainly not in a rush to be ribbed by my brothers about it.
But I’m pissed at her text message. Sorry, can’t make it tonight. That’s it? No explanation?
What’s going on?
Am I going too fast? Do I want something she doesn’t?
Is it the meeting-the-parents thing that’s freaking her out?
Since it’s just me tonight, I head straight to the farm without stopping in town.
Mom’s day lilies are in full bloom. I remember when we planted those together, years and years ago. Only flower name I know are those, and for a reason. Dad dug up the border, Mom had gotten the plants from Ms. Angela who was dividing them, and we all got to plant our portion of the driveway, along a string pulled straight. I realized many years later that this was the first time we were planting something just because it was going to be beautiful, not because it would yield anything that we could sell or barter.
It meant a lot to her and Dad, and their pride rubbed off on us. We were all happy, though we didn’t quite know why. We just were. I know now, it was because they felt they were doing well enough money-wise that they could raise five kids, on a farm, and spend time and energy on planting flowers just because they were beautiful.
Why they had five kids, I don’t know. Dad once said, “Couldn’t keep my hands off her,” and we all covered our ears and yelled at them to stop talking.
But now I get it. I totally get it.
So despite Chloe bailing on me, despite the fact I’m going to spend twenty-four hours without her and that seems like a fucking long time, I’m in a great mood when I pull up to the farm behind a familiar jeep.
“Hey, Ems,” I say as Emma climbs into her car. She does everyone’s books in Emerald Creek, so it’s no surprise to see her here too. I’m glad I talked Chloe into hiring her.
She gives me a small wave and drives away.
I find Mom and Dad at the dining room table, a bunch of papers spread in front of them.
They looked surprised to see me and exchange a glance. I go to the fridge and grab a soda. “We’re on for dinner, right?”
“Yeah… yeah-yeah-yeah. We weren’t expecting you this early, is all. Is your friend joining us later?” Mom asks, seeming tense.
“Chloe apologizes, but she can’t make it.” I sit at the end of the table. Mom looks briefly relieved. That’s weird, she loves to have company.
Dad looks worried.
“What’s up?” I ask.
Dad clears his throat. “Son, d’you have any timeframe on the restaurant situation?”
The restaurant situation is my situation. My parents insisted on lending me part of what I needed to start the pub because interest rates at the time were high, and they wanted to help. At the beginning, they checked in on me to make sure that everything was going well, but they quickly found I knew what I was doing, and I was doing great. “What’s this about?”
“Well, we’re worried—”
“Is this coming from Emma?” Emma knows the rent is late. But she wouldn’t mention that, would she?
Mom looks guilty. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Fucking Emma. “I can’t believe you guys. After the shit she pulled with Chris and Alex?” Just a few months ago, Emma tried to orchestrate a breakup between the two using confidential business information, and that did not go well. For anyone, including Emma.
We’ve since sorted it out, and it’s water under the bridge, because that’s what you do in a small town. You can’t hold grudges because you don’t know who you might need. But it doesn’t mean we forget. “Chloe is working hard on bringing the restaurant to where it needs to be. And I know she’ll be successful.”
“But, honey, I thought you were going to take the space back from Kevin Murphy.”
Why is Mom in my business? Where is this coming from? “And now he’s dead, and Chloe has a different plan.”
Mom sighs. Dad grunts.
“What is this about? You’ve always trusted me with how I run my business.” After the accident, I received enough money for a hefty down payment on what’s now known as King’s Block in town. The old forge had been closed awhile, the current owner started doing something with it that went nowhere. He had part of it leased to the restaurant, didn’t know what to do with the rest.
I did. I bought the whole block. The town needed a pub at its heart, and I was going to give them that. I wanted to get rid of the restaurant, because of who was running it, but folks convinced me to try and let that shit go. Be the bigger person. They said it was enough I’d become Murphy’s landlord. He was probably going to leave anyway.
He didn’t.
Mom and Dad insisted on helping me financially. I tried to protest but quickly understood it was their way of helping me cope with the aftermath of the accident, since they couldn’t do anything about my injuries.
Who was I to deny them that?
At the beginning, they asked to be kept in the loop of how business was going, but they quickly took a step back, then stopped entirely asking questions.
Their financial assistance helped me scale up operations faster than planned. So much so that after a year and a half of operating the pub, I started investing the payments I would have normally made had I borrowed from a regular lender into an interest-earning account for the day my parents would need it. I even told Dad I could pay them back, and he almost took offense but promised to let me know if they ever needed it.
“Chloe knows what she’s doing, and Emerald Creek doesn’t need a larger pub. It needs more diversified restaurant options.”
Mom sighs again. “We’re just concerned that you’re listening to your heart, maybe too much.”
I clench my jaw. “Yeah, Mom, I’m listening to my heart. Darn right I am. And my heart tells me here’s a woman who took a job beneath her because her family needed her. Here’s a woman who rolled into Emerald Creek and was friends with half the town in less than a week. Here’s a woman who’s actually able to deal with a fucker like Samuel and not lose her cool and not lose her customers.” I pause, my eyes narrowed on Mom, daring her to say anything about my use of curse words. “Here’s a woman who gets us, gets the town, gets her staff, gets her customers, cooks like an angel… so yeah, Mom. I’m listening to my heart.”
I stand and push my chair and turn my back to them then whip around and point my finger at her. “’Cause that’s how you raised us.” I cross my arms on my chest and brace for the response.
Mom tears up.
Shit. I went too hard on her. Why did I have to raise my voice? That’s not how she raised us.
She walks to me and a weird smile spreads across her face, her eyes totally water, her chin wobbles, and she wraps her arms around my chest. I hug her back, open my mouth to apologize, but she says, “My baby’s in love.” And tilts her head back and adds, “I haven’t been so happy in years.”
I take a deep breath and hug her tight.
Dad clears his throat. “Well, I’m glad that’s sorted out, but it was never about the restaurant.”
Mom taps me on the back and takes her seat back next to her husband, wiping under her eyes.
Dad continues, “We—there’s a project we’d like to work on… and, well, we were wondering what your time frame for refunding the investment we made might be.”
Oh man. That’s just like them to try and figure out if they can actually ask for what was always theirs. Always putting their children before themselves. “I can refund you this month,” I say.
Mom’s head shoots back in surprise, and Dad has a slow grin that says he’s proud of me.
And I’m proud that this moment has come. At the time, I’d accepted their help only under the promise that should they need the cash for anything, they should ask me first. Not take out a loan.
They’re keeping their promise.
And I’m excited for them that they’re making plans. The day they stop making plans is the day they start getting old, and I don’t want to think about that day.
The truth is, their loan had become an emotional burden for me, a crutch I no longer need. If anything, it was a reminder of the worst time in my life, and I don’t need that anymore.
I’m ready to move on.
After dinner, Dad walks me to the truck. “Just look after yourself, son. And if she’s the one, tell her she can’t skip on dinner with her family.”
“Right,” I answer softly, feeling both warm and fucking scared again.
He stops in his steps before we reach the truck. “How’d you feel about seeing Sullivan again? And Murphy’s widow?”
“Why would I ever see them?”
Dad shakes his head. “Never seen you with a girl, son. Now you’re bringing her to your Mom. Or you will. You’re gonna have to deal with her family.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.
“It’ll go fine. You don’t need to love’em. Don’t even need to like’em. But they’re her folks. You might wanna have a little talk with yourself about how you’re gonna deal with that when it happens. Make sure the one gets hurt isn’t Chloe.” He squeezes my shoulder gently. “Helps to prepare.”
“Thanks, Dad. You’re right.” As always. As I give him a quick hug, my left side clenches, phantom pains shooting up like a memory.
“Funny how life goes, son,” Dad mumbles as we part.
It’s still light when I get home. I stare at the screen of my phone, the last message from Chloe sitting there like a wound. Sorry, can’t make it tonight.
I mean, what the actual fuck kind of message is that.
We need to talk,I answer back.
My phone rings right away. Chloe calling. I clench my teeth and pick up.
“Hey,” she says.
“Everything all right?” I ask her.
“Yeah. I uh… I had to work later than planned.”
“Someone sick?”
“No um… admin stuff.”
Admin stuff? That’s why she bailed out on dinner at my parents? That’s why she’s not in my bed after close to two weeks of sleeping together? She’s gonna have to give me more than that. “Yeah?” I bite.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Um… Emma’s not gonna work out, and I already fired the other guys, so I’m catching up on bookkeeping and stuff.”
“Emma’s not working out?” That’s new to me.
“Yeah, we had a um… productive meeting, and turns out, she’s not a good fit for now. So uh… I can do the bookkeeping, and then I’ll just hire one of the usual suspects for reporting and stuff. It’s for the best.”
Bullshit. I can sense the tension in her voice. Something else is up. Is she getting ready to close down the restaurant? Does she feel she can’t tell me, because of the back rent that’s owed? I hate that this is between us. “My dad wasn’t happy about you not showing up,” I say with what I hope is a lighter tone.
“Ohmygod. I’ll… I’ll… should I send flowers?”
What the fuck? “No, Clo, I was kidding. I mean, yeah, we missed you. But my parents don’t care. I mean they care,” I fumble, “but if you can’t make it, you can’t make it. They understand.”
“Right. Good. I guess I should invite them over then, some time?”
Oh. That’s new. My parents don’t get invited that often. They do the inviting, and they’ve for sure never been formally invited to one of their son’s girlfriends. I don’t know how I feel about being the one to experiment with that.
“Yeah, you don’t have to.”
“Right,” she answers softly.
Shit. Did I hurt her feelings? “Want me to come over?”
“No,” she answers quickly. “I’m pulling an all-nighter.”
That’s not good. Not good at all. A restaurant manager shouldn’t spend the night doing bookkeeping.
Something’s up.