My invitation was enough out of the blue, and my tone bright enough, that Kincaid arched a brow. Yet, he sat right down without missing a beat. “Am I occupying this chair to keep it from someone else?” he asked.
My cheeks heated again, this time because I was a little embarrassed that he picked up on that. “Yeah,” I said with a sheepish smile.
Shelly—bold as ever, apparently—stopped beside the table. “I’d love to talk sometime, Tori,” she said.
I lifted my gaze to her, figuring if she was going to be bold, I might as well be too.
“I wouldn’t, Shelly. Take care. If you don’t mind, I’m having coffee with a friend.”
Her lips pinched a little, a look familiar to me. That was what she did when her daughter and I were little, and she was annoyed with our behavior. “You take care,” she finally said, her voice cool as she turned away.
“Okay,” Kincaid said after a few beats, leaning back in his chair. “So there’s a story there. What is it? What did she ever do to you?”
“She’s my mother’s former best friend. She used to babysit me all the time.” I took a deep breath. “She had an affair with my dad. For a decade. Needless to say, my mom’s not friends with her anymore, and I don’t want to be friendly with her.”
“Oh, oh,” Kincaid said, his eyes widening slightly. “I understand.”
“Then, they moved in together, and eventually they moved to Anchorage and got married. He went on to have an affair on her sometime after that. I guess she’s come back to town and wants to make up with my mom and me.” I shook my head, calling on the numbness I needed inside to keep from breaking into tears. “I’m not interested.”
“Well, uh, I completely understand that.” His tone was careful and level.
“All this to say, for what it’s worth, I do have trust issues,” I added with a wry chuckle.
Kincaid snorted, tilting his head to the side. The way his gaze softened twisted my heart with a piercing jolt. “Fair enough. Don’t we all?”
I paused for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe. What’s your story?”
Chapter Six
Kincaid
I guess we were just jumping right into the deep end in this conversation. The hurt in Tori’s eyes was so sharp, I could feel the piercing twist of it in my own chest. She held my gaze expectantly.
“Maybe my dad didn’t do that, but my dad just… Well, he didn’t do the dad thing.” I figured if she was going to offer honesty to me, I’d give her the same.
Tori took a swallow of her coffee, angling her head to the side as her pretty hazel eyes studied mine. Questions flickered there. “You mean your dad left?”
“He was never even there to have left. For all intents and purposes, he was a sperm donor,” I explained evenly.
“Oh. Well, that sucks.” She blinked, and the concern in her eyes warmed the cool feeling in my heart whenever I thought about my dad, or rather, his complete lack thereof in my life.
I shrugged, trying to reach for the lightness I used to ease that desolate sense of loneliness. It felt like a dry wind through a barren place, especially when there was no one around, a clanging sense of isolation. And yet, here we were in Alaska. My mother had other reasons for wanting to return, but she also wanted to maybe find him.
My mother had, as she put it, felt morally bound to let my sperm donor know she was pregnant. She’d never heard from him again after that.
“In a way, maybe it’s easier than what you experienced,” I added.
Tori shook her head quickly and definitively. “I don’t think it’s helpful to compare pain. It’s all relative, I think.”
I was quiet for a few beats, considering her point. “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know.”
“There’s a lot I don’t know about life, but no one’s helped by measuring pain on a yardstick. I’m sorry your father wasn’t around.” Her tone was straightforward, her gaze clear.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. “Should we talk about something lighter now?” I asked, my tone dry as the dead grass after the snow melted in the spring.
She bit her lip, her smile sheepish. “Yes. Let’s. That was kind of a heavy start.”
“You look all recovered from your, uh, bee sting,” I offered.
