Page 59 of Inspiring Izzy

"Holidays are hard on my mom. She doesn't understand...anyway, it's easier to work. To hole up in the Glorious Pig and catch up on emails."

"How many years have you been spending Thanksgiving at the bar?"

Brady shrugs. "Four, maybe five."

"That's..."

"Depressing," he finishes for me. "What about you?"

"We never really had the money for a huge Thanksgiving dinner, and Steve's family wasn't big on holidays, so we'd pack an early dinner and eat at the beach. I think we had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches last year," I bite my lip. "It sounds horrible, but I tried making it special for Brianna."

"No," Brady shakes his head, "that sounds perfect."

The elevator stops moving and the doors open, interrupting our awkward conversation.

Brady lets me exit first and his hand finds my lower back as we walk through the lobby to the cafeteria. I know I shouldn't enjoy the way his hand gently guides me through the crowd of people, but I do. I just...it feels good.

We order and grab a table by the window. I watch as a group on a corporate retreat gathers for an afternoon hike. They're here right before thereallybusy begins. Ski season starts the day after Thanksgiving, and this place will be bustling with foot traffic. More than usual, anyway.

"You look lost in thought," Brady says across the table.

I glance over at him. "Just thinking about ski season."

"If I remember correctly," he grins, "you're a horrible skier."

"Everyone looks horrible next to Liam," I laugh.

Brady leans back in his chair and props his elbow up on the armrest. "What's going on with Steve?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "He's here."

"A week early if I overheard correctly," Brady ascertains.

"My dad is going to help him find an apartment and a job."

"You don't seem happy about that."

"No," I sigh. "I'm not happy about it. I...I don't want to talk bad about Steve because he's Brianna's dad. Brianna should have him in her life. It's just hard. It's hard to separate how I feel about the way he treated me and how much I know my daughter needs her dad."

"How did he treat you?" Brady tilts his head to the side.

I scratch the back of my neck. "He wasn't mean or anything, but he didn't help me. I had to do everything. I had to take care of all three of us while he played video games. I made all the meals, did all the dishes, washed all the clothes, and ran all the errands. I begged for help, but he always had an excuse."

"Did you try marriage counseling?" he asks.

"Yeah," I let out a low chuckle, "Steve doesn't believe in counseling. He says therapy is a scam."

"I've been in therapy for a few years," Brady reveals.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he swallows hard. "After my dad died, I had a lot of things I needed to work through."

"Like what?" I press, hoping he'll tell me.

Our coffee and cake arrive as Brady blows out a breath.

"I felt an enormous amount of pressure to live up to his expectations," he confesses. "And when I disappointed him, he was critical and harsh. I found myself in this toxic cycle of trying to win his approval while trying to build a life for myself that didn't look anything like the one my father was trying to push on me."

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