by Cara Dee
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a burger either, for that matter.
I frowned.
Adam returned shortly after with two big glasses of beer and said our food would be ready in about fifteen minutes.
I took a sip and cursed internally. I’d forgotten how much I liked beer. “Good choice.”
“I know my way around booze and beer.” He shrugged lightly. “So…”
“So.”
He chuckled and flipped a bottle cap between his fingers. Maybe he’d had it in his pocket. “This is kinda nuts. I have an uncle.”
I smiled faintly. “Don’t set your expectations too high. I’ve never identified as a train wreck more than I have these past couple of weeks.”
He nodded. “You mentioned a divorce.”
“Good times.” I tipped my glass his way and took another sip. “I’m still processing, I suppose. I don’t know where I’ll end up. Twenty-five years and then you sign your name on the dotted line to make it all disappear.” Fuck. I should’ve kept it briefer. “I apologize.”
“Don’t.” He quirked a brow. “To be honest, it’s nice that you don’t got your shit together.”
I let out a laugh. “Then I’m definitely ready to be your uncle.”
He smirked. “So, I take it the divorce wasn’t your idea?”
I shook my head. “All her idea, but… I don’t know. I’m waiting to feel hurt or sad, and I just don’t. I’m bitter and irritated and pissed off.”
“Maybe it’ll come later?” he offered.
Maybe, though it didn’t feel like it. What I did feel right now was discomfort. Adam wasn’t a boy at all. He was a grown man, and his calm demeanor had the opposite effect on me. I wanted his nervousness to come back. I had no edge here, and he didn’t strike me as a guy to be impressed by a nice suit or degree. I’d gotten that feeling from his profile too. Reading his few status updates, it was clear that he saw people, not what they wore or the car they drove.
“Tell me about your other job,” I requested.
“I work some weekends at a dental clinic,” he said. “I answer the phone and set up appointments, and one of the dentists gives Bella free dental care.”
That was certainly a good perk. “Sounds like you don’t have much free time.”
He tipped his hand, weighing the response. “No, but probably more than most single parents. Kell, my boss here—he and his wife watch Bella whenever I want. Which is more like whenever she wants a movie marathon and no restrictions on how much candy she’s allowed to inhale.”
I chuckled, remembering Grace having a major sweet tooth when she was little. “No wonder free dental care is too good to pass up.”
“Right?” He grinned. “Thing is, I’m kind of a junkie for taking classes. Last year, I took a six-week course to learn Japanese cooking, and it wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for Kell and Teresa. They treat Bella like a granddaughter, and I can bring her with me for my shifts if I need to.”
A burst of envy flared up in my chest. He spoke of a sense of togetherness I’d never experienced. Something I’d once wished my family—our family—would grasp. Eventually, I grew up and found wishes to be a fool’s quest for a happiness he’d never obtain. Sitting around and sending wishes into the universe brought nothing.
“May I ask about Bella’s mother?” I wondered.
“Sure.” He shrugged. “There isn’t one. Bella’s a surrogate baby.”
There was no way to conceal my surprise. “You’re going to have to elaborate.”
He sat forward a bit, a smile battling with an ounce of unease. “I know this makes me a little different, but I’ve always known I wanted to be a dad. Like, early. So, when Dad died, Mom let me have my inheritance right away. And…yeah. I read up on surrogacy and met a woman named Lucy. She agreed to carry my daughter.”
That…was simply not the conventional story I’d thought he would share. At all.
“I blew my inheritance on a baby and the down payment on a condo.” He smirked sheepishly. “That’s about it.”
“You knew what you wanted, and you went after it.”
I had much to learn from this young man.
“Well?” Kell gave me an expectant look once Ev had left. “We gonna kick his pretty teeth in or let him live?”
I chuckled and headed behind the bar. “I guess his silver fox status is back. He can live.”
I was processing. I probably would be for a while.
“Perv,” Kell told me. “Yous’re family.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was kidding. Speaking of family, where’s my girl hiding?”
He jerked a thumb at the kitchen. “She’s helpin’ Petey with a new dessert.”
“If she doesn’t become a chef one day, I’ll report you for child labor,” I told him. “Lemme squeeze by. I’ll pick up the next shift.”
I wasn’t ready to go home and face my thoughts.
Three
Everett
It’s not a good sign if a condo is hard to sell, is it?
I settled into bed and yawned before responding to Adam. Sending text messages was so much easier than logging in on my computer, and I would not be one of those who filled their phone with social media apps.
Generally not, no. Why?
I dug my head into my pillow and tried to get comfortable while I waited. When I moved, the first thing I was buying was a new bed. The one we had in the guest room was way too soft, and I’d woken up with a sore neck and back pain more than once.
The two-bedroom across from me has had six owners in the past four years, and it’s been standing empty for months in between. But it made me think since you’re looking for a place.
That was interesting. I’d learned that Adam lived in Logan Square, a quite nice neighborhood. It wasn’t terribly pricey either for being so close to the Loop.
Another message appeared from Adam.
I know the listing agent, so let me know if you want me to ask him about it.
Since I’d begun my search, I’d lowered my standards several times. It couldn’t hurt to see what this place was about. I could survive loud neighbors and bad plumbing. As long as I got out of this damn house soon.
I replied to Adam.
That’s nice of you. If it doesn’t take up too much of your time, I’m interested in at least having a look at the place.
I held my phone on top of my stomach and closed my eyes momentarily, and I decided I felt marginally better. I’d seen Adam for the second time earlier today. We’d had lunch together near my office, and I’d admitted I was anxious about Grace coming home this weekend.
I’d been open. He’d laid the offer there on the table; he’d said he was a good listener, and I’d jumped on it. Showing myself vulnerable hadn’t killed me.
It was a strange sensation, one I wasn’t wholly comfortable with, but it was a start.
My phone buzzed with another message.
Consider it done. Have fun this weekend, unc. ;)
I twisted my mouth into a wry smirk. Calling me unc was his latest thing. A promotion of sorts, he’d called it.
You too, kid. Perhaps I’ll tell Grace she has a housebroken cousin.
Adam sent me a “LOL” and wished me a good night, so I did the same, sans acronyms that made me weep for the fate of the English language.
“Booth or table?”
“Table, thanks,” I replied. The booths meant Grace would automatically choose to sit next to Melinda. A round table removed that option and would put my daughter closer to me.
“This way, sir.”
We were shown to a table somewhere in the middle of the restaurant, and Melinda didn’t hide her distaste for the place. It was admittedly a bit more casual than she was used to, but Grace had expressed her craving for pizza when we’d picked her up at the airport, so that’s what she was getting.
“I think it’s the only thing California hasn’t figured out yet,” Grace said. “We go out for pizza sometime
s, and my friends put freaking kale and white sauce on theirs.”
I grinned. “I’m glad Chicago can come to the rescue there, at least.”
She was a sight, and it was difficult taking my eyes off her. I hadn’t stopped cataloguing the little changes since the last time we saw her. She’d cut her hair. The long copper tresses were now a shorter do with messy ends teasing the tops of her shoulders. She’d lost a few pounds too, and she appeared more adult. I wasn’t a big fan of the latter. But then, I wished she were still running around in pigtails.
“I’ve learned I become more of a Chicagoan on the West Coast than I am here,” Grace noted, studying her menu. “I didn’t even know I had an accent until it was pointed out to me, so now I make sure to use more slang they don’t get.”
“It was like that for your father and me too,” Melinda laughed softly. “Then we come back here, and everyone goes, ‘What the hell? You can’t talk anymore.’”
I remembered those moments. Our accents hadn’t even been that broad to begin with. When I lived in New York and attended Cornell, it was less noticeable. But as soon as I ended up in the Bay Area, I was a novelty to poke at.
Spending a decade in California had polished our accents quite a bit, and I was surprised Grace received any comments at all. Merely talking to Adam put things in perspective. He had Chicago in his marrow.
The girls told me what they wanted to eat, and I ordered for us when a server appeared, and we returned our menus.
“You took off your wedding ring,” Melinda blurted out.
I frowned and gave my finger a quick glance. Then I looked at hers and noticed she still wore her ring.
Grace raised her brows and looked away. “Awkward…”
Melinda flushed, a rare sight, and cleared her throat. “I was just surprised. Never mind.”
“I’m surprised you’re still wearing yours,” I said honestly. “I figured it would be the first thing you got rid of.”
Would I need to remind her that she was the one asking for the divorce?
She became defensive. “It’s a nice piece of jewelry. You didn’t exactly give me many diamonds.”
I clenched my jaw but said nothing. We weren’t getting into all the things I’d done wrong during our marriage here.
“Oh, Mom.” Grace made a face. “Tacky.” She ignored her mother’s glare, and I made sure my small satisfaction at her comment didn’t show. We would not resort to childish antics in front of our daughter. “Anyway. Can you guys promise me something? Dad, you don’t buy a Porsche. And, Mom, you don’t get a boob job.”
I let out a laugh.
Melinda didn’t.
“I’m actually considering getting rid of my car altogether,” I admitted. “If I move into the city, I won’t need it.” I could take the L or an Uber those short distances. Besides, parking in the city was a menace, even more so if you lived there. There were always some assholes calling dibs on parking spots, leaving traffic cones and lawn furniture all over, especially during the winter. “I have a couple condos to go look at this weekend. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”
Grace shifted uncomfortably in her seat, letting me know I wasn’t going to like her answer. “I made plans with some friends.”
I mustered a smile. “Of course. I should have considered that.”
It was going to be a short trip for her; she was coming home for the sole purpose of packing up her room and telling us what we could throw away. Whatever little time she had left, she would want to spend with friends from high school.
Hopefully, I would get my turn when she came home for Thanksgiving in a couple months.
When Adam called to tell me I was welcome to stop by and check out the condo where he lived, it became the one thing that kept me going that day. The condos I’d already looked at were disasters, and Grace had canceled her plans with her friends to spend the day with her mother.
I did my best not to show how much that stung.
After spending ten minutes searching for a place to park, I finally made it to Adam’s building, and he met me outside the gate.
I took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to leave the rest of the day behind me. Logan Square might actually be ideal for me. It was a neighborhood full of beautiful boulevards, old townhomes, and most of all, Neo-Grec style buildings. One of my favorite architectural styles. The pompous gods of Greece met the subdued elegance of British royalty.
“Someone had a shitty day,” Adam said.
“Thanks, you look great too,” I replied.
He grinned and stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “So, it’s this way.” He nodded at the building next to his, and I sidled up next to him. The buildings on this street all had wrought-iron fences with a sliver of greenery inside the property. I liked that. “I take it Grace’s visit ain’t going well?”
Understatement. “It’s going fine. She’s doing what she came here to do. I just miss her terribly, and spending time with your father when you’re nineteen is evidently not high up on the list of priorities.”
But spending the whole day with her mother was no problem.
“Gotcha.” Adam pulled out a beanie from the front pocket of his hoodie and put it on. Then he stopped in front of the next building’s gate and punched in a code. The building was far from Neo-Grec, but it was appealing, nonetheless. Definitely from the last couple decades. Dark brick, gorgeous arched windows, five stories tall. “And it hasn’t always been this way with her, right?”
I glanced around, wondering if we were meeting with the agent. “Correct,” I answered absently. “You mentioned knowing the listing agent?”
“Oh yeah. He gave me the codes.” He opened the gate, and I followed, as curious as I was resigned. After today, I was finding a new Realtor. “I asked him about the place, by the way. Why it’s been hard to sell.”
“Yeah?” We entered the building, and I was pleasantly surprised by how well decorated the foyer was. Marble and brass, dimmed lighting, mailboxes that gleamed in the light.
“Shit.” Adam let out a laugh. “It’s just hit me that I’m showing this place to an architect. What’s goin’ on inside your head right now?”
I smirked faintly and pressed the button for the elevator. “I don’t design residential buildings, so I’m merely appreciating what I’m seeing.”
“What do you design?” He let me enter the elevator first. “Oh right, it’s just one floor up. I guess we don’t need to take the elevator.”
I shrugged and pushed for the second floor anyway. Then I remembered his question. “I design a variety of things, but a lot of atriums.”
“Atriums,” he stated.
I inclined my head. “Atriums and courtyards in shopping centers, corporate buildings, hotels—a select few residential if they can afford it.”
I enjoyed making designs for glass structures, and I was very good at it because it offered more freedom to be creative. Highly unattractive in residential areas, in my personal opinion, but it could breathe life into a convention center, among other similar locations.
“The finishing touch is the skylight,” I said with a firm nod. “An atrium sets the mood in a place. It provides the entire atmosphere.”
Adam quirked a slow smile. “Huh. Hadn’t thought of that.” When the elevator stopped, he was the first one out, and it wasn’t difficult to figure out which condo we were here for. I’d seen my fair share of lockboxes outside of doors at this point. “As an architect, what’s the most provocative thing in town? The Bean?”
I chuckled. No, the Bean wasn’t very provocative. “It’s modern art. I don’t have a strong opinion on it, to be honest. No, the worst thing that exists here—more than that, was developed here—is the Prairie School. An absolutely hideous architectural style.”
Adam found my evident distaste for it amusing.
After tapping in the code on the lockbox, he retrieved the key to the condo and unlocked the door.
“All right, here we are. I d
on’t have a spiel to give you, but I figure you know more about this shit than I do.”
“I would hope so.” I smirked at him and entered the condo, immediately liking what I saw. It was bright in here.
High ceilings, those big, arched windows, hardwood floors, and intricate crown molding made me wonder again how the hell this place was on the market. I’d already heard the price, so that wasn’t it.
I opened a door to find a bathroom, complete with a shower, washing machine, and a dryer. Curious. I would’ve expected a washroom.
“Okay, what was the catch? None of this makes any sense.” I peered into the kitchen just past the entryway. It was a little on the small side perhaps, but there was a nook, a dining area, on the other side of the kitchen counter. Black marble surfaces. Brand-new stainless-steel fridge and freezer. White cupboards.
“Yeah, so, about that,” Adam said. “It’s a combination of things. The family that lives upstairs has three kids. Three loud kids.”
I looked back at him quizzically. “In a two-bedroom?”
“Yup.” He leaned against the kitchen counter while I ventured into the large living room to the right. “The second thing—we’re right above a storage area or garage or whatever for bikes. There’ve been some noise complaints about that.”
I hummed and looked down the hallway where I assumed the two bedrooms were. “Hardly a deal-breaker.”
I heard him follow me as I opened the door to the first bedroom. I did love those windows. Not the most appealing view, though. It was the alley between this and the next building. Adam’s building, I supposed. But hell, the windows. We’d had arched windows in California, albeit smaller ones. Much smaller.
Opening the door to the ensuite washroom, I came to a full stop and rubbed my forehead. “I believe I found the third reason.” What insane person put a Jack and Jill bathroom in a condo with only two bedrooms?