Forbidden: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance - Page 14

“Same,” I said. “I’ve been an ass.”

Derek nodded and sipped his beer. We didn’t need to try to bowl each other over with platitudes about how the other wasn’t acting like a dick. We both knew for a fact that we had both been acting like dicks.

I had checked in with Cameron, Kane, and Alex before inviting Derek out to the bar. All three of them were pretty clear on how I was, in fact, being a jerk and so was Derek. They also were very clear on how annoyed they were with the both of us. It was Cameron who mentioned how sad it was, since growing up Derek and I were so close.

I was sad about that. As kids Derek was my go-to for sports and entertainment. If I needed someone to go toss a ball around with, Derek was my guy. If I was going to the movies and wanted to see if anyone else wanted to go, Derek was always game. He was my wingman at bars before I met my wife. We had been so close.

Then, life took us in different directions. I got married, had my construction business, and was living in the sticks near the vineyard. He went to culinary school and focused on becoming a renowned chef in the city. When my wife died, he was the first to call, but he was so busy it took weeks before he could come down to spend time with me. By the time he did, I wasn’t in the mood to hang out with anyone, and we saw each other for a couple of days before he flew back home.

After talking with the rest of my brothers, I made a promise to close the gap between me and Derek. Drifting apart from him hurt, and I was determined to set things right.

We drank and talked for a long time. Mostly I caught up on where he was in his mind. What he wanted to accomplish, what he saw happening at the vineyard, and how it made things work for him. It opened my eyes to why he would be so dead set about some of the changes, and as he spoke, I realized I might have acted a little more harshly to him than I even thought I had. I was even coming around to some of the reasons why he wanted the changes he’d wanted, and toying with going back and making them.

“What about you?” he asked. “I feel like I’ve been spending this entire time talking about myself.”

“What is there to know?” I asked. I wasn’t trying to be coy. It was the truth. My life was an open book, especially to my brothers.

“Why are you so quick to get angry now?” he asked. “Is it still what happened?”

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” I said. I took a long sip of my fourth or fifth beer. I wasn’t counting. “Ever since Monica died, I’ve kind of just focused on work. I didn’t take more than a couple of weeks off, you know? Too much time on my hands was the worst. Sitting around the house, looking at all her stuff. I found a bag with crocheting stuff in it. There was a blanket she was making. She never finished it. I don’t have the heart to do anything with it, so it just sits there, unfinished. In a bag. By the chair she used to sit in.”

“Have you ever thought about moving?” Derek asked. In all the attempts to get me out of the house and away from things, Derek was usually absent. I didn’t hold it against him. He was usually too busy to do much more than chime in at 3:00 A.M., occasionally in group texts with a ‘lol’ or something.

“Thought about it? Yes. Decided against it? Also, yes,” I said. “It’s my house. It’s where I live. It’s where she lived. I can’t just run away from her memory. It’s disrespectful for one, and for another, it’s my home. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“What about having someone come clear it out?” he asked.

“And have someone else take away her things? No. I couldn’t do that.”

“Well, it’s got to be hard just sitting around with all her stuff still around, man. You have to be able to heal and move on. She would want you to; you know that. It sounds like you can’t do that yet,” he said. “It’s understandable that you’re sad. No one holds that against you. You lost your wife. Then we all lost our grandparents on top of that. It’s a lot to go through for anybody.”

“But not an excuse for being an asshole,” I said.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “You are allowed to be sad. Depressed even. But you aren’t allowed to just be a dick to people. That includes Ally.”

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
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