Page 6 of Heartfelt Pain
I twirl the wrench between my fingers. “Why are you here again?”
He stuffs the baby outfit back in the bag. “Well, little nephew, I was in the area. Thought, I’d show off my goods. I didn’t realize this new shop of yours would be such a hostile environment.”
“Hardly.” The wrench clatters onto the workbench. I wipe sweat off my brow.
Dima casts an appraising eye around the place again. “This is nice, Roman. Really nice.”
My brothers and I have owned property since we turned eighteen. The small garage with an apartment above is hardly a penthouse or a giant warehouse like my brothers own.
But it’s in the middle of the city and I love living here. The moment I saw it go on the market, I snapped it up. My own personal space to fix up cars in the middle of New York City? Seemed like fate finally beckoned me with something good.
“Thanks,” I tell my uncle. As small as the compliment seems, Uncle Dima doesn’t say such things lightly.
“Everything moved in like you want?” He eyes a pair of stairs leading to the apartment above.
“Yeah, it’s all good.” Elijah showed up with a moving crewa month ago. He proceeded to sit on the couch supervising the workers. But I took his appearance as a sign of affection.
“Russ and Len been around to help you spruce up the place?” Dima asks.
“I don’t need anything.” I’ve had the same brown leather couch since I turned twenty. I know how to keep my items well cared for.
“You’re not interested in getting a dog?” Dima asks.
I shake my head.
“No woman or?” He scratches his beard.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I say, frowning. My uncle is always welcome, but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen this side of him. Awkward and caring, yes. But digging for information about my dating life?
He laughs and his grin reminds me of Dad’s. “Nah. I’m an old man. I like my space just the way it is.” He shrugs, though. “But you know I watched your dad fall in love and. . .”
Dima shrugs again.
“Are you trying to ask me if I’m sad about my brothers falling in love while I remain single?”
His bushy brows lift. “I mean you don’t have to stay single.”
“You’re shit with love advice. You know that, so I’m not sure where the fuck this is coming from.”
Except I do. Dima would never come here on his own. At least not to discuss relationships.
“Dad send you?” He had to have pressured him, because there’s no way he’d go along with it.
Dima scratches his cheek. “Your mom’s calling you.”
I don’t reach for my phone, lying on the worktable. After a second it darkens. It’s fifty/fifty on whether Mom will leave a voicemail. She doesn’t like leaving them. She says why bother begging someone to call you back when they so clearly didn’t want to talk to you inthe first place.
Guess, it’s not like I’ve been leaving her a lot of messages lately either.
Max is the mama’s boy of the family. At least until this shit went down with Russ.
“So it’s both your parent’s you’re icing out?” Dima asks.
The sigh rips out of me before I can stop it. “Why’d you come here?”
“I’m worried about you.” His tired face reflects how I feel.
“Because I don’t have a girlfriend?”
