Quinn glared. “How’d you know that?”
Dad leaned over the table, suddenly excited. “You two were so close. I always had a feeling you’d end up together. You had this spark.”
They were sparking, all right. The other night in Chinatown had exceeded his best dreams. He ran his hand down his face. “Why did you come by The Cove?”
Dad’s hands finally stilled. “I’ve been taking a hard look at my life. That day in court, seeing you boys together, it really shook me up.”
“You mean losing the lawsuit shook you up.”
Dad shrugged the comment away. “I never thought I would sue my kids. I walked out of there—”
“—after disowning us in public—” Quinn threw at him.
Dad nodded, acknowledging the comment without apologizing. “I was in the car and Bambi was chewing her gum real loud. The sound grated on my nerves. I was ready to kick her out of the car, right there on the corner by the courthouse, and I suddenly realized it wasn’t her that grated on me; it was me—what I’d done to you boys. I was a sorry excuse for a human being.”
“I’d like to disagree with you, but …”
Dad gave a deprecating chuckle. “Don’t bother. I’d know you were lying.”
That was a step in the right direction, but if he thought a few words could wipe away the years of pain he’d inflicted, he was wrong. Quinn put his hands on the table. “What do you want from me?” he asked again. Because with his dad, it was always something.
“I don’t know.” Dad shrugged. “I’m crawling my way back to respectable. I guess I just wanted you to know that.”
“Good luck.” Quinn stood. He paused, staring down at the wrinkled and aged man who had once been his hero.
Dad squinted up at him. “When’s the wedding?”
“We haven’t picked a date yet. Soon, though.” The sooner the better, as far as he was concerned. He wanted to hold Ginny every night and kiss her beautiful skin good morning. “Our engagement party is a week and a half away. That’s taking our focus right now.”
Dad checked his watch. It was one of those large-faced ones with a leather band but without numbers. He’d always worn a watch, even when they weren’t in style. The sight of it stirred a lot of memories in Quinn—not all of them horrible. “I’d better hustle—have an interview.”
“You’re getting a job?”
Dad stood taller. “I am. I still have my trust, but I want to do something with my life.”
“Good luck,” Quinn snapped. Dad had a long road to walk before getting anywhere near respectable.
“Thanks.” Dad smiled, his eyes clear and his face open.
He left first, and Quinn took a seat again, blown over by the exchange. That was the weirdest conversation he’d ever had. Not once had he dreamed Dad would change, let alone want to.
He dialed Ben’s number. “You’re not going to believe what just happened.”
“Is it weirder than you proposing to a woman who isn’t in love with you and you haven’t seen for ten years?”
“Are you ever going to let me live that down?”
“Probably not.”
Quinn grinned. He held the trump card—Ginny was into him. A fact that he’d rub in his brother’s face later. “Well, hang on there, because this is weirder.”
“Can’t be.”
“I just talked to Dad.”
His declaration was met by silence. Finally, Ben said, “Okay, that is super weird.”
Quinn told him about the conversation, the mention of a job interview, the whole thing.
