Page 118 of The Broker

Every muscle of my upper body was tense, and I raked a hand through my hair as I struggled to come up with a way to backtrack. But my mind was a mess, and I was desperate to talk about it with someone, and... fuck it.

“Charlotte is Ardy’s daughter,” I announced.

My statement ate up all the air in the car, and I sat in tense, painful silence, waiting for the fallout.

My mother’s question was quiet, and surprisingly free of judgment. “You’re dating your boss’s daughter?”

“Not anymore, it sounds like,” my dad piped in.

“He didn’t know, and when he found out, he fired me on the spot.” I took a breath. “He didn’t appreciate how we hid our relationship, and there’s some history between Charlotte and her dad that makes her being with—” Shit, I had to correct myself. “Madeher being with me hard for him to accept. Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Oh.” It was obvious my mom had no idea what to say. “But then, what happened with Charlotte?”

“When Ardy told her she couldn’t see me anymore, she told him she loved me.”

My dad’s expression was pure confusion. “And then she dumped you?”

“No. I didn’t know she loved me. She hadn’t said that before, and,” shame rolled through me, “I freaked out. I got scared.”

“Scared of what?” My mom’s tone changed, like she was asking a question that everyone already knew the answer to. “Aren’t you in love with her?”

I was so uncomfortable, I twisted in my seat and threw one of my hands up. “I don’t know.”

“Really?” She had the audacity to scoff. “Well, I do.”

“What are you talking about? You can’t know that. You only met her for, like, two seconds.”

Her laugh said I was being foolish. “More than enough time. Besides, it wasn’t just the way you looked at her. It’s how you’ve been since then. You think a mother can’t tell when her son is happy?”

Frustration had me tightening my hand on the steering wheel once more. “I’m not going to argue that she makes me happy, but happiness is not the same as love.”

. . . Right?

“Okay,” she said, clearly just humoring me. “She makes you happy, loves you, and youmightbe in love with her. Noah, I have to be honest. These don’t strike me as good reasons to break up.”

I clung to the statement like a toddler refusing to give up the tattered scraps of what had once been their favorite blanket. “I don’t have time to be in love right now.”

“Now that you’re unemployed,” my dad said, “it sounds like you have lots of time.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but all I saw was red. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Gabe, be nice,” she scolded. “He’s having a hard time, and if anyone can relate,” her tone was so pointed it was almost accusatory, “it should be you.”

Worry froze my father in place, and he seemed to sense what was coming, but was powerless to stop it.

“You two are so alike,” she said, “maybe he could learn from your mistake.”

I glanced in the mirror and found her expression oddly smug. Meanwhile, my father looked like he wanted to crawl away with embarrassment.

“That was forty-two years ago, Theresa. Can you let it go?”

“Never.” She laughed. “Go on and tell him.”

No matter how much he didn’t want to, she had the leverage, and my father sighed and scratched the side of his head. “Your mom and I had been dating for a while before we started talking about marriage. She wanted to know we were heading that way, but I wasn’t... as sure at the time.”

This tickled my mother so much, she let out a sharp, short laugh. It made it sound like he’d drastically downplayed the situation.

“Look, we were young,” he said, “and she was my first serious girlfriend. I didn’t want to rush into getting married. I wanted to be sure she was the one.” His voice was small. “So I told her we should see other people.”

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