Page 50 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

Oh. Shit. Now she felt like an asshole. “Sorry, I—”

“Don’t. My parents could’ve afforded it. They just didn’t want me to go to Stanford. Stay in state, Colin. Go to WSU, Colin. Join the family business, Colin.” He rolled his eyes.

“Family business?”

“McCrory and Sons Contracting.” There was a bitter edge to his laugh that made her chest squeeze. “Well, McCrory and Son Contracting. My dad officially changed the name the day I passed the bar.”

Jesus Christ.

Both her parents were in show business and not once had either pressured her to follow in their footsteps. They’d only ever wanted her to follow her dreams, pursue her own passions no matter how wild or outlandish or even mundane they were. Because they loved her. Because they wanted what was best for her and not some version of her they had cooked up inside their heads.

Mom and Dad had always given her the space to reach for the stars and provided her with the comfort of a safety net should she fall. She’d never taken it for granted and yet someone claiming to love their child and yet giving them hoops to jump through to attain that supposedly unconditional love was unfathomable.

“Contracting? So your father’s a what? Builder? Architect?”

They’d already covered that he was an ass.

He nodded. “Technically, my first job was hauling four-by-fours and H-beams on weekends. But I never got paid, so I’m not sure it counts.”

Four-by-fours and H-beams? That explained the arms.

“Truly?”

She tore her gaze from where it had landed and lingered on the long line of his shoulders that led to the swell of his biceps. “Sorry?”

Amusement sparkled in his eyes, making it painfully obvious she’d been caught staring. At least he was polite enough not to point it out. Instead he nudged the plate of pound cake toward her, wordlessly offering her the last bite. “I asked what your first job was. Fair is fair, after all.”

“Nothing as exciting as being a sanctioned furry.”

Colin rolled his eyes, a smile still playing at the edges of his lips. “You’re hilarious.”

“I’d say I try, but that would be a lie. It comes naturally.” Truly split what should’ve been the last reasonably sized piece of pound cake in half. “I worked as an usher back before my mom retired, when both of my parents were still with the theater. That was my first job. Not the most exciting, but I did get paid minimum wage and I got comped tickets for my friends.”

She pushed the plate across the table only for Colin to push it right back.

“That’s yours,” he said.

“I split it in half.”

“That’s not even a bite, that’s a crumb.”

“Just eat it, McCrory.”

“You eat it, St.—”

Her name died on his lips as a shadow fell across the table.

“Can I clear that for you?” a barista with a strained smile asked, hand already halfway to the plate.

Truly looked at Colin. “Um, we weren’t quite finished yet, but—”

“We closed five minutes ago.”

But they didn’t close until—the clock mounted over the door read 8:05. Oh, shit. Already?

“Sorry.” Colin handed the crumb-covered plate to the barista with a contrite smile. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

The barista took the plate and walked away.

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