“That’s… Wow, Pax. That’s a lot to process.”
“The skinny shit told me about your job,” I told her. I moved to the other side of her kitchen where it was wide enough for two narrow stools—the only dining space in the area. I nudged one of the stools out of my way and leaned my elbows on the strip of countertop.
She shook her head. “That’s on me, not you. Jeremy…isn’t mature. Or capable of not getting his way. And I’m sure many other things.”
“Still, I dislike that you’ve been hurt because of me.”
“Again, not your problem,” she said.
I hesitated. “I want to tell you why I needed to get in touch with you, why I started to question everything my father told me—taught me.”
She was still a long moment before she gave me a nod. “Okay.”
I took a deep breath and returned to the day after Ida Jane and Maxim’s second wedding last summer.
I’d woken in the dark, my eyes popping open as I gasped on a sob. I was a grown fucking man who’d lived alone for years, yet I’d cried in my sleep. I’d sat up, blurry-eyed.
“Never drinking again,” I’d mumbled. It made me vulnerable. Made me remember. Allowed my walls to come down enough to admit how much I missed Hana. Nausea had rolled through me, and I’d groaned as my head hit the wall.
I’d fumbled on my nightstand, found my phone, and called my mom.
“Hey, hon,” she’d sung out, chipper, when she answered.
“I can’t keep pretending I’m okay,” I’d said.
“Oh.” Then, a quieter, “Oh.”
“I miss her, Mom.”
“Oh, Paxton. I-I didn’t realize…” She’d sighed. “That’s not true. I did. You haven’t been serious about anyone since you broke up with Hana.”
“Mom, it’s killing me,” I’d said, my voice low. “I miss her. I ache because I miss her.”
“But…but you said it was for the best.”
I’d snorted derisively. “And whose idea was that?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Paxton.” She’d sounded upset.
“I want you to tell me the truth,” I’d told her. “I can hear it in your voice. You know something.”
She’d inhaled, then blown out a breath. “I’ll fly out.”
“Why? Why can’t you just tell me now?”
She’d remained silent for a long moment. So long that I’d been pretty sure she would tell me she’d changed her mind. “Because this needs to be in person.”
“What does that mean, Mom?” I’d asked, my tone sharp.
Her swallow had been thick with emotion that I’d felt through the phone. “It means that I—give me some time on this, Paxton. But you’re right. You deserve to know everything. And the first thing I should tell you is that Aiki sold the house.”
I’d risen from the bed, propelled by the need to do something. “What?”
“They don’t live down the street any longer.”
“When did that happen?”
“I’ll fly out,” she’d assured me. “We’ll talk.”
