Page 32 of The Rules of Their Red-Hot Reunion

Pasco stood up, switched off the stove, and wiped his hands on a snowy white kitchen cloth. ‘My father, also known as the sperm donor, studied business management at university, but dropped out in his second year. Shortly after Mum graduated they married, and a year after that I was born. My mum was the breadwinner in our family, so she worked and my dad stayed at home and took care of us and our finances.’

Anger and devastation sparked in his eyes, and Aisha resisted the urge to walk around the island to comfort him, but knew that if she did anything but sit still and listen, he’d clam up.

After a long silence, Pasco spoke again. ‘My mum earned good money and my dad spent it on cracked business schemes. God, he tried everything, from making shoelaces to selling mobile phones. He had a food truck and then a butchery. He sold coins off the internet and antique furniture.’

‘I’m sensing he wasn’t good with money,’ Aisha quietly stated, keeping any censure out of her voice.

‘He had the attention span of a fly and couldn’t stick to anything for more than a minute. He’d borrow money, using my mum’s credit, start up a business, and when he was bored, packed it in. Two months later, he’d borrow more money and the cycle would repeat itself.’

Aisha cocked her head to the side. ‘Why didn’t your mum put a stop to it?’

Pasco rubbed the back of his neck. ‘My lovely, stunningly intelligent mother was a fool when it came to my father. She loved him, wildly and intensely. He brainwashed or nagged or conned her into believing that love had to equal complete trust. In what she now admits was the stupidest mistake of her life, she gave him power of attorney over her financial affairs. For someone like my dad, that was like giving a teenager a limitless credit card and dropping her off at the mall. He managed to keep our money troubles from her for the longest time, but I heard his conversations, I knew something was wrong. But he told me not to bother our mum with it, that she was stressed, tired and he was taking care of everything.’

‘But he didn’t.’

Pasco’s mouth thinned. ‘No, he didn’t.’

His eyes turned distant and dull. Something major happened, an event that kicked them sideways and upended his world. ‘What did he do, Pas?’

Pasco raked his fingers through his hair and when he looked at her, she saw the regret in his eyes. It was obvious to Aisha he was wishing he hadn’t opened this can of worms, that he could back away and return to normality. Whatever that was.

But this was the first time ever—and how sad was that?—that she’d burrowed beneath his everything-is-peachy surface and she wanted to know how that chapter of his life ended.

Aisha stared at him, willing him to open up, to confide in her. She didn’t say anything, knowing he either would or wouldn’t confide in her, nothing she did or said would make him do something he didn’t want to do.

‘His creditors finally caught up with him,’ Pasco stated, sounding a little robotic. ‘My birthday is a week before Christmas, and they threw me a birthday party. I invited everybody I knew, girls, guys, old friends, new friends. We lived in a nice house...not fancy, but it had this big pool...so we decided to have a pool party. They hired a DJ, and it was the best party ever...up until the debt collectors stormed in and started loading up our furniture and putting tow hitches on the cars.’

Aisha put her hand to her mouth. Dear God.

‘They took everything that wasn’t nailed down, anything that had even the smallest value. My boombox and our PlayStation, paintings, the jewellery my mum inherited from her mum and grandmother.’

‘Why did they take her property?’ Aisha demanded.

‘My parents were married in community of property so everything was fair game,’ Pasco explained. ‘We were left with our pets, two cats and three dogs, and a suitcase of clothes each.’

‘And this all happened at the party?’ Aisha asked, horrified.

‘Yeah, I remember an argument between the DJ and the collection agents because they tried to take his mixing equipment. Some of the girls were crying, the boys were laughing. One of our dogs bit one of the removers.’

He tried to smile, but there was no amusement behind the action. ‘Eventually, everyone cleared out and we were left in this house with, I kid you not, nothing. Not even a kettle. There was food and they put it onto the kitchen floor. But we couldn’t do anything with it because there wasn’t a stove, or pots or pans.’

Aisha held her hands to her cheeks, horrified. ‘How did your mum respond?’

Anger, hot and bright, flashed in his eyes. ‘I’ll never forget my mum sitting on the floor of her empty lounge and staring up at my dad. She asked him how much money was in the bank and he said that they were overdrawn. She listed every account, and he answered the same way every time, that there was nothing. The credit cards were maxed out. He had a little cash in his wallet, she had none.’

Pasco folded his arms across his chest and stared past her to the amazing view outside. ‘Can we stop talking about this now?’

‘Tell me the rest, Pas. Please.’

He looked at her, desperation and humiliation in his eyes. ‘I can’t, I’m done,’ he replied, his voice hoarse. ‘I haven’t thought about it for years, talked about it since it happened.’ He rolled his shoulders back and reached for the pot on the stove, tossing the contents into the waste disposal. ‘I’m feeling claustrophobic, let’s get out of here.’

She looked at the wide expanse of the deck, the sunlight streaming into his apartment, and felt as if she were standing on the edge of the world, light and free. His house was linked to the land, the sea, and the sky and there was nothing claustrophobic about it.

Pasco wasn’t running away from his place but his past, the memories. And she could understand that. He was so successful now, so financially secure that being reminded of that awful time in his life—how out of control he felt, so helpless—had made him feel jumpy.

A part of her wanted to push, to dig deeper, but he’d given her what he could, and that was far more than he ever had before.

She nodded and when he held out his hand, she placed hers in his. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Out.’ He gestured to the bright sunshine and the intense, deep, glorious blue sky. ‘It’s a stunning day, we are together, playing hooky, so does it matter?’

When he put it like that, she didn’t think it did.

---