Along the upstairs hall were the doors to my room and Sarah’s, where the two of us dreamed our first dreams of what our futures would be. So many of mine were about how good it would be when I got the hell away from that house and away from my parents telling me what I could and couldn’t do, and I could finally be my own man.

Passing my bedroom door, I wished I could step through it and step back in time to face the kid that I once was as the man I was now.Listen, punk,I’d say to myself,this is who you’re going to be someday. Do you know what the hell you’re going to have to go through before you get to be this? Let me tell you a few things, smartass…

At the end of the hall was another door that I knew well: the door to the master bedroom. And on the other side of it was the master.

I knocked on that door, loudly, and didn’t wait for permission to open it and go in. Not waiting for or caring about my parents’ permission was, after all, one of the themes of my life.

He was fully dressed and lying with his head against a pillow and headboard on the bed. He glared at me that way he had done so many times before, and in his most unwelcoming voice, my father said, “Doesn’t a closed door mean you’renotsupposed to come in?”

Shutting the door behind me, I answered, “Well, you know how I am about rules, Dad, don’t you?”

My father made a noise like a snorting horse at me.Well, he could snort and paw his hooves all he wanted, I thought.The old man was going to hear what I’d come to tell him tonight.

“Now hear this, Dad. I’m mad at you. I’m angry as hell because I want you to see I’ve changed. I’m not the rotten kid who left this house, and I’m not the screwed-up guy that you had to keep out of prison. That’s not who I am anymore, and I don’t know how to make you see that. You don’t listen, you don’t think. All you do is judge by whatusedto be. You’re a blind, stubborn bastard, and it kills me because I know I’m a lot like you.

“But, Dad, I’m a better man than I was. I built a damn successful business with Leo. I found a girl who’s a thousand times nicer than I deserve, the nicest human being I’ve ever met. And, I’m angry because you can’t see that I’m actually someone that a girl like that could love.

“I don’t know what I can do, what it will take, to make you proud of me. Maybe I can’t do it. Maybe it’s just not possible to make anyone feel something they just don’t feel. But, I’m here to tell you that no matter what kind of blind, stubborn bastard you are, I love you anyway. Maybe you’re not proud of me and maybe I can’t change that. We just have to accept the things we can’t change. But damnit, old man, you are my father and I love you. And, even if you’re not proud of me…I’m proud of you.”

I hadn’t let him get a word in edgewise, and I didn’t let him have the last word now. I just left my father there on his bed with his mouth hanging open. Maybe he was dredging up the words to say for some retort to what I’d just told him. Or, perhaps he was just speechless. I didn’t bother to stay and find out. Instead, I let myself out of my parents’ bedroom and marched back downstairs.

I found my mother, sitting anxiously on the cushioned bench in the hall, gazing up the stairs and clearly wondering what was going on up there. When I came down to where she was, I helped her to her feet, put my arms around her and gave her a kiss, and told her that I loved her, too. Then, I let myself out and went to my car to drive home.

CHAPTER30

Corinne. Saturday

I found Kathleen behind the counter of her coffee shop, right where she was when I first saw her and didn’t have any idea who she was.

At first, I debated even going to Kathleen’s coffee shop. There were any number of other cafes and eateries in Cincinnati where I could have gone, including that little gourmet sandwich shop where Kane accosted Elijah and me. (And that one, I firmly decided, was not an option.)

I actually began by driving around the block, weighing the choice of whether or not to park and go in. Being that it was Saturday, she might not even be working. There might be some other barista who worked for her behind the counter. I might not even see her at all.

Finally, I called an end to the little dance ofShould IandMight notin my head, pulled the car into a parking space, and went inside. Sure enough, there she was, looking every bit as glamorously out-of-place as I remembered her. She must have opened the place out of pure love. However, Kathleen was the boss and I had to respect her for her decision to go into business for herself.

I also had a grudging and jealous sort of respect for her as my predecessor in Elijah’s bed. Walking up to the counter, I worked hard to separate Kathleen from the things the two of them must have done to each other in Elijah’s bedroom, which he and I had so breathlessly done. Having those blazing images in my mind would only make this more awkward, and it felt awkward enough already.

There weren’t many people there, and no one else was at the counter but the boss. There was a fair chance that I’d have Kathleen’s undivided attention.

I walked up to the counter and she greeted me with her usual pin-up-girl smile. Whether that meant she recognized me or she was just giving me her standard greeting, I didn’t know and didn’t really care. I’d probably jog her memory in the next few minutes.

“Hi, Kathleen?” I began.

Her eyes twinkled at me. “Yes?”

“Um…I really love your place here and what you’ve done with it. You might not remember me, but we have something in common.”

“You do look a bit familiar,” she said. “There are three kinds of people who come in here that I remember. The regulars that I see all the time, the attractive men, and the pretty women.”

I couldn’t help smiling a bit at that one.Did that mean she instinctively saw all the pretty women customers as competition for the attractive men? What would that mean for the conversation that I meant to have with her? I would soon find out, wouldn’t I?

She continued, “I think I can place your face, but I can’t guess what we might have in common. Are you another cafe owner?”

Taking a deep breath, I said, “No. Um…I’m Elijah Bennett’s girlfriend.”

She blinked at that one. Of all the things I could have told her, no doubt this was the thing for which she was least prepared. “Oh,” she said, slightly flustered. “I see. Elijah…”

“Yep. Elijah.”