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"I feel like a lot has happened in the past couple of weeks," he says. "I've had a lot of time to think. Before you say anything, I would like to apologize. I should never have taken advantage of your situation. I should have never put you in that situation. I feel horrible that I treated you that way. I put you through so much with losing your job, especially when I knew everything that was going on with your grandmother and what she means to you. It was wrong of me, and for that, I’m sorry.”

Hearing his apology relaxes me, and I want to hug him, but I can’t.

"Ryan told me about your father,” I say. “And he told me about the will reading. I'm so sorry that you went through all of that. Months ago, you told me you know what it's like to lose everything and not to have anyone. I get it now. Your mom passed away, and you lost everyone."

Alex lowers his head into his hands and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. I lean forward and reach out for one of his hands, and he lowers his hand to hold mine. He edges closer and rests his head on my shoulder.

“I pushed all of that away for so many years I wasn’t sure it really even happened. I never had anyone to talk to about it. And no one seemed to really care about getting to know me until you. I think it had been so long since anyone had treated me with any kind of respect that I developed feelings for you. And I shouldn't have. Especially not when I was planning such a stupid and ridiculous thing. How could I think you would fall in love with me when I was using you to hurt someone else? I never gave you a version of me to love. If anything, I probably acted more like my father. Which is the worst thing I could ever imagine a person being."

"Don't say that. From what I've heard, you’re nothing like him. I don't think you could ever be that horrible.”

“You’re such a good person you saw past that. You saw past my own mask to the real me. You’ve changed me just by being you. You’ve brought me back to who I was."

“Ryan said you didn't want any of any of your father's money or any of his assets. You could have left with what I'm guessing is a lot, but you only took the restaurant. Why did you take John's?"

Alex chuckles as he sits back in his chair.

"When I used to come home from school for summer break or the winter holidays, as you probably heard, I really wasn't welcomed at home. I got a part-time job, and first, I started out as a dishwasher; I was just a kid, and John’s was old-school, so they didn’t mind hiring me even though I was underage. My father didn't want me around, and I needed something to do. Ryan was too young to remember, but my mom always wanted to make sure that she and I had some alone time together after he was born. So we’d go out to John's every once in a while, just the two of us. And we always ate the same thing."

“Monte Cristo?"

"Yes." He laughs, but his eyes shine with tears. "I guess Ryan really did tell you everything. That was our thing, Mom and I. And when she started to get sick, and she couldn't leave the house as easily, she would make Monte Cristo's at home for Ryan and me.” He smiles wistfully. “That restaurant of yours is a special place. I worked there for years, even when I didn’t need to, because being there made me feel close to her. They made me feel like family. While my family was broken, and my father wanted nothing to do with me, I always knew I had a job and a place where I belonged. John’s was my home.”

"I get it, I really do. I've worked in a few restaurants, and they’ve always felt tight-knit, but John’s felt like family to me, too. That’s why I was there for so long and one of the reasons why losing my job hurt so much. I was there most of my adult life."

"Same when I was your age. We’re just twenty years apart with our John’s experience. That's the thing with you and me, Carina. We’re the same in so many ways.” He smiles and holds my gaze before looking away. “So when I saw on that asset list that my father owned John's Bar and Grille, I had to have it. To this day, I have no idea when he acquired it or why. Maybe he had his own memories with my mother there. I'll never know. But that's why when I saw it, I knew I needed to have it. I didn't know what I was going to do with the restaurant, but in some way, I had my family back.”

He smiles, and a tear falls down his cheek. He quickly wipes it away.

“Enough of that. I can tell you have something on your mind.”

"Can we talk about our deal?”

"What about it? It's still in place. If I remember correctly, you held up your part of the bargain, so I'll continue mine."

"But didn't you want him to lose his inheritance? Isn't that why you did this?"

"I don't think I ever thought it through,” he says. “I just wanted to hurt him for being loved when I wasn’t. I know that’s immature. And I know that Ryan had nothing to do with how I was treated. I'm not even angry with him; never was. This was all about our father. But I think trapping myself in this loneliness and having nothing but my thoughts let me convince myself that hurting Ryan was a good idea."

"Have you spoken to him lately?" I ask.

“He stopped by the other day. We’ve talked almost every day since we met at John’s a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t want to interfere with you and him working things out, or I would have reached out to you. I figured the two of you have enough to talk about to make things right. I've done enough damage. Especially knowing what little time he has left.”

I don’t want to talk about Ryan’s deadline and his need to keep his inheritance. I haven’t asked him about it because it feels wrong to me. Even though it has been six months, so much of it has been wrapped up in a lie- several lies- that we both want to start anew.

“Well, I don't know how comfortable I feel with you taking care of Grandma like this."

"That was our deal. You gave me your six months, and I promised I would take care of her. My deal continues. I'm not going to welch on that."

“Okay, then, I still need a job. Maybe I can work for you somewhere. I'm sure you have something available. Maybe in one of your restaurants? This way, at least, I'll feel like I'm contributing."

"Well, Carina, it's up to you what you want to do. You could always go back to your restaurant."

"It's not my restaurant. Stop calling it that. You can't call it mine when I haven’t worked there in almost a year."

Alex gets up from his seat and walks around to his desk. He opens the drawer, pulls out a manila envelope, and holds it out to me.

"Carina, I can call it that because it is your restaurant. Here's the paperwork. I signed it over to you a few months ago."

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