“Ah, son, you’ve got to let it go. All these years, I tried to make sure you never had calls at or near her old house…not after that one time…”
“Right.” He meant the time when Brett called for a fake quote so he could display his pregnant wife.
“But now…”
Here it comes… Beck drew in a breath, blew it out nice and slow, waited. His father did not disappoint.
A shrug, followed by three taps on his chin. “But now she’s not married anymore. Now she’s free and untangled from that web. Now she’s able to—”
“Stop. Just. Stop.” He did not want to hear about his ex-girlfriend and her many levels of availability. His father straightened in his chair, shot him the no-nonsense look that said a lecture was coming and he’d better listen up. Of course, the man called it advice, but it was still a lecture.
“People get trampled, beat up, hearts broken. Happens every single day and it doesn’t matter who it is or what they’re worth…it’s called life, son. Real life, and it comes after all of us at some point. But you know what? Most people don’t give up and go hide in a corner like you’ve been doing for too many years. They pick themselves up, put one foot in front of the other, and move on because while they can’t see it, they still believe there’s goodness in this world, and that means good people. They get a life, something you haven’t been able to do.”
What the hell did his father know about moving on? He’d been wearing the same winter coat for fifteen years, still ate roast beef and mashed potatoes every Sunday, and called the refrigerator an icebox. Move on? From what Beck could tell, his father hadn’t been forced to make many adjustments past giving up the onsite electrical calls and learning how to use a cell phone and a computer. “I’m happy, Dad. I have moved on. I just haven’t moved on to where you and Mom wanted me to go, which is married with a kid or two.”
His old man had the damn audacity to snort and add a laugh to it. “You think moving on is calling off your wedding two months before the vows? Now why did you get engaged to that woman in the first place? It’s not like you had much in common, other than the obvious.”
He meant sex. Normally, Beck wouldn’t bite, but he was pissed, so he said, “The obvious? And what would that be?” He expected his father to use one of the interesting terms the man substituted for sex: tail, booty, “getting a little.” But when he spoke, the “obvious” wasn’t about sex at all. It was worse. It was a lot more personal.
“The obvious, if you used that genius brain of yours for something other than adding up amperage ratings and pretending you can erase the past, was the fact that the woman had blonde hair, blue eyes, and sounded a little like somebody else.”
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