“What do you mean? How so?”
“I was out of control when I was a kid, and she couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle me.”
“That's what your dad told you.”
“That's what happened,” Nate replies, frowning at me. “I still remember the night she left. They went out for dinner, and I stayed home with a babysitter. One of many, because I kept driving them away, and I misbehaved again. I threw a tantrum, broke a glass…I'm pretty sure the babysitter quit as soon as my parents got home. Anyway, they got in this big fight—I could hear it even in my bedroom—and the next day she left.”
“And you've never seen her again?”
“In court a couple times. But after that, she wasn’t really interested in seeing me. She tries to call here sometimes, maybe she feels guilty. She always tries to blame my dad for what went down,” he adds bitterly.
“Did you think that if…if you had been better, she wouldn't have left?”
He shrugs. “Doesn't matter now. Why are you asking about this stuff? Did I talk about it when I was drunk or something?”
“No, no.” I put my coffee down on the nightstand. “She called here last night.”
“Eileen? You talked to her?”
“Well, yeah, she was really upset.”
“Fuck, Brynn,” he swears, standing up. “Why would you do that? This has nothing to do with you.”
“I was just trying to help…”
“I don't need your help,” he spits at me.
“Would you just listen for a second?! She called because she thought you might be willing to listen to her after what the woman said on the TV show—”
“What are you talking about?” he growls.
“She said your dad was cheating on her, that's why she left. Nothing to do with you.”
“Get out,” he says, raising his voice and pointing to the door.
“Nate, my dad left, too, OK? I know what it's like. But she sounded so lost, she's desperate to talk to you. I'd kill for my dad to sound like that about me.”
“Oh, so that's what this is about, your daddy issues.”
“No! That's not what I meant,” I plead, his words stinging to my core.
“Look, I'm sorry that your dad isn't around, but your whole situation has nothing to do with mine!”
“Fine!” I shout, feeling hurt. I push off the sheets and stand up. “I promised her I'd tell you, so I did. I'll never try to help you again.”
“That's all I ask!” he calls after me as I stomp out of his room.
I slam my bedroom door behind me, my fists balled in anger. I walk straight to my bed and grab my pillow and swing it down as hard as I can onto the mattress. I. Can't. Believe. I. Ever. Had. Feelings. For. That. Asshole. I think as I bring the pillow down again and again until I'm out of breath.
It's officially time for me to move on.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“You look nice,” my mom says as I enter the kitchen, giving me a wink.
“Mom…” I reply, rolling my eyes.
“Well, you do! Where are you two going tonight?”
“La Mirabelle.”
“French—how romantic!”
“It's just a first date, OK? Don't get too excited.” I turn as Nate and Pierce enter from the dining room.
“I just have a good feeling about this one, that’s all.” She continues, pouring me a glass of water, “And he's picking you up, right?”
“Oh, do you have a date tonight, Brynn?” Pierce asks, wiggling his eyebrows at my mother.
“Yes,” I groan, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.
“Greg! The intern from your office,” my mom tells him.
“Well, well. You know, I remember seeing you two huddled together in the copy room last week, and thinking to myself, ‘those two would make a fine couple.’”
I blush as my mom smiles enthusiastically. It's amazing how quickly things have gotten back to normal after that woman went on TV. For about a week, a handful of photographers waited around outside the gate, but they eventually left when the buzz died down. Pierce told us he has investigators working to discredit the woman’s claims, and that everything will be back to normal. As for Nate and me…
“So it'll just be the three of us for dinner then,” my mom chirps.
“Two, actually. I’m going out tonight, as well,” Nate replies casually. I manage to resist the urge to look at him.
“Oh?” my mom asks.
“Nate, you should’ve let Holly know about your plans. How many times have I had this conversation with you? Responsibility, responsibility, responsibility,” Pierce says as he crosses to the fridge. I glance at my mom, but she's looking down at her chopping board.