“I’m sorry I’ve burdened you with that. I don’t know why I told you all of it.” He does seem genuinely confused, and the longer we stand here, the more I can feel his distress growing.
It makes my heart go skittering madly in my chest to think that he might never have told anyone else any of this, and now he just opened up to me. It wasn’t like I prodded him into it by telling him that I’d heard rumors and wanted to know what the real story was.
“It’s okay,” I choke out, trying to be reassuring because, truly, it is. I mean, it’s not. Not one single bit. “Thank you for trusting me with your truth.”
“Now that you know the sordid past stuff, here’s some lighter stuff for the present. I’m good at math. You already know that. I also like robot dogs.” He half frowns. “I guess you know that too. I’m an air conditioning nerd.” His aggravated pause nearly makes me laugh. “And asparagus is delicious.”
I can’t help it. I give in to the urge to laugh, and once I do, I laugh so hard that I snort a little. That was not at all what I expected. None of this was or is.
He waits until I’m not making piggy noises before he continues. “My parents have this expectation of what I should be as a son, and I’ve never liked to fall in line. I apologize in advance if they ever drop by unannounced. It happens from time to time. They’re basically insufferable. I love them, but they’re not easy. Also? My first tattoo was kind of anI can do to my own body what I wish thing,but then I liked them. The long hair and the beard just pushed it a little further, and then I couldn’t give it up. My god, I don’t know why I’m telling you this either.” Holy fuck, his cheeks get the slightest bit pink, and it hits me all at once,all over. “I apologize again for the info dump that you absolutely didn’t need. Let’s go check out the dog?”
“You should probably always refer to it as a robot dog. Just to prevent further heart palpitations.”
He picks up the remaining triangle of his sandwich. I’m glad he still has an appetite.
No, what I’m really glad about is that after everything that happened to him, he was still brave enough to make a life for himself. He doesn’t seem like a person who just endures because he has to. He has his scars, and they’re not apparent or obvious, but I can tell by the way his eyes light up over his project that he also has his passions.
And it makes me warm and gooey from my toes to my eyeballs.
“I’ll make a note of that,” he promises as he leads the way.
Chapter six
Warrick
Amalphia follows me out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the garage.
It’s impressive, with all the features you’d expect of a house in this price margin. There are three bays, which doesn’t sound like a lot, but there’s a car lift on the far end that stacks cars one on top of the other, so they take up less room. I have two not-so-daily cars on the far end and my black sedan in the middle bay. Across town, I have a few more cars in storage.
My one guilty pleasure is cars. Imports or domestic, fast or slow, antique or new, I have quite a collection. The only thing that stops me from owning too many is that I’m fussy. I’ve never bought anything brand new. I like the car to have a character or a story. And when I say car, I actually just meanvehicle. I own a few pretty incredible trucks, one amazing adventure van, and a few ancient off-roading vehicles. My latest purchase was one of those work vans that was converted to look like a giant green monster, complete with the shag. Inside and out.
Butwe’re not here to look at vehicles or talk about them.
The other side of the garage is where I have my work area set up. The whole bay pretty much consists of metal tables that have adjustable height, another table along the far wall with a massive bank of curved monitors where I do my programming, and beyond that, a whole row of standup tool chests.
My current project, the robot dog, is lying in pieces on the far table, and I do mean pieces. I know it’s going to be a dog, but what it is at this point is anyone’s best guess.
Amalphia covers her mouth with her hand, stifling a gasp. “Oh my goshhhhh!” She rushes across the garage, grasps the edge of the table, and eagerly surveys everything. “This is so incredible! It’s like a real factory. Or a garage. A factage? You could be a mad scientist, bringing robot dogs to life to take over the world.”
She’s so adorable that I find it impossible not to smile as I walk over. The concrete floors are heated, but they’re not on at this time of year. The only thing running is the AC, which is whisper quiet, cooling the garage to the perfect temperature. I have an amazing stereo system in here, but I don’t turn it on.
“Nah,” I respond, running my index finger over the dog’s unassembled front leg. “My dogs are like regular dogs. Sweet. Charming. They have no designs on running society in any way.”
Her hands hover anxiously just above the table. “Can I touch it?”
“Absolutely. Touch anything you like. It’s not delicate.”
“I disagree. Look at all those pieces and wires! Those screws there are so tiny! Are you going to make it look like it has real fur?”
Her delight in a project that’s been solely mine up until this point is like a cup of hot tea on a cold night. No, that’s too token. It’s like doing the perfect installation of a state-of-the-art AC and having it do its job exactly as it’s supposed to. Most people won’t get excited about that, but most people don’t dealwith refrigeration on a daily basis. Not that I’m out there in the field very often, but I do know how to install, uninstall, and troubleshoot every single one of the company’s products.
Amalphia turns, scrunching up her nose. “Did you guys rename your company?”
It’s uncanny how she can just read my mind. “We did. It used to have our name on it, but Beanbottom doesn’t have such a nice ring. My mom came up with something different. She thought it was brilliant.”
“I think it’s funny too. Witty. But…” Her eyes practically cross. “I don’t know if I like your parents all that much.”
She’s talking about what I told her in the kitchen when I lost my mind and just blurted it all out.
