“With a water heater,” he added with a lopsided grin.
“Are you serious?”
“My dad had a habit of picking up any gadget he could find, regardless of whether or not he needed it.”
She smiled and kept exploring the small space, running her hand along an old wooden board sitting out as if it were still being worked on. Then a photograph on the wall snagged her attention. It was faded, but not enough that you couldn’t see the blond woman in a sun hat with one arm wrapped around a tall man in the center. The man looked like a slightly older version of Will, except he had a huge smile on his face. Beside him was a small boy with a shock of white-blond hair, working to hold up a surfboard.
“Is this you and your parents?” Lizzy asked.
He nodded. “I think I’m about seven there.”
A long silence followed before she asked, “How old were you when they passed?”
“Twenty-five,” he replied.
She shook her head. “I can’t even imagine.”
“It was five years ago.” The reply was automatic, what he usually said when people offered condolences. But even though it was years ago, the loss still felt raw, and he found himself continuing. “I think people assume that once you’re an adult, losing your parents isn’t as traumatic as it would be if you were a kid. But you’re still their kid. And when they’re gone, you still somehow feel like an orphan. It’s hard. It probably always will be.”
She stared at him for a moment, then turned to consider the photo again. “What were their names?”
“John and Claire.”
She let out a long breath, bringing her gaze back to his. “I’m so sorry, Will.”
It was the most he had spoken about his parents in a while. Hetried to temper the emotion in his voice as he answered, “I need to apologize, too.”
“For what?”
“Charlie’s Fourth of July party.” He took a moment, crossing his arms over his chest as he measured his words. “You asked me if I had ever been embarrassed by my family. I said no.”
Her cheeks flushed as she rolled her eyes. “Oh God, we don’t have to relive—”
“No. We do.” He paused. He had to be careful, so very careful, to say exactly what he meant. To ensure his words didn’t have any hidden sharp edges before he uttered them. “I wasn’t saying that my family had never done anything to embarrass me. It’s that I don’t have the opportunity to be embarrassed by my family anymore. I’m an only child, so when they passed… it’s only me now.”
Every emotion that had been dancing on her face fell in a moment. “Will—”
“I knew my words stung. I saw it in your expression,” he said, cutting her off. “But that wasn’t my intention. What I meant was that you’re lucky to have family to be embarrassed by.”
A small smile curled her lips. “I’ll remind you of that next time Joanne Bennet corners you with a business proposal.”
He chuckled to himself.
Another moment passed, then she continued, “I have a question.”
“Okay.”
“How do you know I’m a fantastic journalist?”
Right.
“Because I read your articles,” he admitted.
She looked genuinely shocked. “Which one?”
“All of them.”
Her eyes widened. “All of them?”
