He wanted to wring her parents’ necks for putting her through that. “What happened afterward?”
“I don’t want to bore you.”
“You’re not. What happened?”
“They divorced and my dad married Cindy, who also had one boy and one girl. Cindy’s kids are just offset by a year from Reece and me and it became a competition in my mom’s mind. Mom and her two kids versus Cindy and Cindy’s two kids. It was and is exhausting.”
In his mind there was no competition. No one he’d ever met had compared to Shay. “Did your mom remarry?”
“She married the first man who came along and ended up getting lucky. He’s very long-suffering.”
“Did he have kids?”
“No. His first marriage didn’t produce any children and he and my mom weren’t interested in having more together, which I view as a blessing. It was messy enough as it was. It still is messy. Every holiday is a minefield of decisions.”
“How so?”
“Dad only had custody of us every other weekend growing up, so Mom feels like she deserves first dibs on our time. But if it were up to her, we’d never see Dad on a holiday again.”
“I’m sorry.” And he was.
“My brother is the bright spot of my family. He and I have a great relationship.”
“Do you see him often?”
“‘Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow.’” She sang the famous line fromAnnie.
“I don’t know anything about music, but I think you have great pitch.”
“I’m seeing my brother tomorrow, but I don’t see him as often as I’d like. He lives in Dahlonega now with his new wife.”
Connor opened the dressing room door again. This outfit he approved of. She’d picked jeans and a rust-colored crewneck sweater under a twill shirt, unbuttoned.
Her expression was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. She’d crossed her legs and the pink tennis shoe hovering in the air bobbed. “We’re definitely getting warmer! That rust color looks great with your hair. Is this comfortable? In your price range? Do you hate it?”
“Yes. Yes. No.”
“Try on the next outfit, please. I have a good feeling about it.”
He closed himself into the dressing room, shouldered out of the shirt, and stripped the sweater off over his head.
“What about you?” she asked. “Your parents also divorced when you were pretty young, right?”
“Right. I was around the same age that you were when it happened. In the case of my parents, my dad was from England, here on a work visa. My mom fell for his charm and his accent, which didn’t prove to be the best basis for marriage.”
“Charm is deceptive.”
“And beauty is fleeting,” he finished the famous verse.
“Did your dad also have an affair?” she asked.
“Not that I know of. He started going back to the UK more and more often for longer periods of time. Eventually, he decided to move back without us. His feelings for my mom had dried up. He didn’t want to be married anymore and he was happy parenting us from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.”
“So he didn’t stay in close contact?”
“Not really, no. But by the time the divorce was final, we weren’t used to close contact with him, anyway. He came to visit when he felt like it. He called on special occasions and sent gifts on our birthdays. He paid child support. The three of us are his only kids, but he’s had several wives. His fourth marriage just collapsed. I don’t think he’s a bad person, necessarily. He’s just not an extremely good one, either.”
“Essentially, your mom raised the three of you single-handedly.”
