She nodded in understanding. "Are you happy?" she asked, her voice soft.
Jesus, that was such a loaded question. On one hand, he was satisfied with his career. Financially, the company was thriving and he'd made a ton of money he'd invested in different ways. Mentally, he enjoyed the challenges that came with rehabbing old structures. On the other hand, there were days-actually, mostly at night when he was in bed trying to fall asleep-when he keenly felt that something fundamental was missing from his life. A certain someone to come home to and share all the successes with.
But overall, he had a fulfilling job, loyal friends, and a great life. It was hard to complain about any of that.
"Yes, I'm happy. I love what I do," he told her. "Every day is different, and there's something very satisfying and rewarding about taking a structure that is old and run-down and making it into a showpiece. How about you? Are you happy?"
"Most of the time," she replied honestly.
She gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and she suddenly seemed . . . tired. Not tired as in she needed sleep, but mentally fatigued.
"Some days are monotonous, and sometimes I wake up in the morning feeling like I'm living the Groundhog Day movie, where my life feels like it's caught in a time loop. Buying the building and opening that section for artisans would have made my job a bit more fun and enjoyable because it's something that I've always wanted."
He hated that he'd taken that away from her. "I'm sorry."
She tipped her head to the side, her smile reaching her eyes. "You know, I really want to be mad at you for buying the building, but I can't. Not anymore. Not when your reasons for purchasing it couldn't be any more selfless."
He shifted uncomfortably at her comment. "I don't know about selfless." Finished with his dinner and beer, he sat back in the booth. "Honestly, my mom is the selfless one and always has been. Not me."
"She's very lucky to have a son like you," she said one last time, and before he could say anything else, she went on. "Speaking of which . . . how's Todd doing? Last anyone heard, he'd moved to Colorado."
"He's still there," Kyle said, then told her about Todd's DUI accident that had killed another man in a head-on collision. Todd had survived the wreck but was now serving time in prison in Denver on a manslaughter charge.
The waitress came around again, and since Kyle wasn't ready to part ways with Ella, he ordered a cannoli for the two of them to share. As they ate the dessert, they talked about her sister, too, and how Gwen came and went depending on whether she needed money or a place to stay. A few months back, she'd gotten involved with a guy who'd ridden through town on a motorcycle, and after spending the weekend with him, she'd announced that she wanted a more exciting life than Woodmont had to offer, then hopped onto the back of the stranger's bike with a backpack of belongings, and Ella hadn't heard from her since.
Kyle found it incredibly sad that both of their siblings had gone sideways, so to speak, and had only thought of themselves-while he and Ella seemed to be the responsible ones in the family. Ella had taken over running the market, not out of choice but most likely out of obligation to keep them financially stable since her dad was unable to work. She made sure her father was taken care of, and Kyle had done the same with his mother-and he wouldn't have it any other way.
As the time passed, their conversation veered toward happier recollections of growing up in Woodmont and the fun events in high school-the football games, his wrestling matches, and even Kyle and Nolan doing a stupid skit in the school's version of The Gong Show that got them booed off the stage. The reminiscing made them both laugh at times, and also brought on a pang of melancholy during a conversation about the two of them spending most of that last summer at the creek, where they'd floated in inner tubes and swung like Tarzan and Jane on the length of rope they'd tied to an oak tree so they could jump into the water.
Their lives had seemed so easy and carefree and fun-until the night that tore them apart in a way Kyle never would have believed possible.
He glanced at the time on his cell phone, surprised to see that it was nearly eight thirty and they'd spent over two hours talking. "I think traffic should be good by now," he said, signaling the waitress for the bill.
"Yeah, I do need to get going," she said, and he heard the soft reluctance in her voice that mirrored his own disappointment that their evening together was coming to an end.