He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Not like that.”
I thought about pushing more, but thought it better to back off and see if he would say whatever it was on his own.
Surprisingly, he did after a few seconds. “I just… I don’t know. Anytime I think that maybe there’s a decent human being buried in there somewhere, I get piles of evidence to the contrary. I’m just tired of expecting one thing and getting another, though it’s my fault for having any expectations to begin with, I guess.” He started the SUV and pulled back out onto the road again.
What was it Mike had said weeks ago when he’d first floated this awesomely terrible idea at me? Don’t you think it’s odd that for all the shit he’s talked about his dad, he still works for him? Maybe not him directly, but still. You know what that says to me, princess? It tells me that Darren still cares about what Daddy thinks about him. That he’s still searching for some kind of approval.
And that sucked, if it was true. Which it seemed to be more and more. Because here was a perfect
ly… acceptable boy who had the unsanitary habit of attempting to fuck everything in sight. Sure, he was obnoxious and annoying and I really did despise him partly (though, maybe not as much as I did, say, four hours ago), but he didn’t deserve to be born into the family he had. Maybe his mother was the nicest person in the world, which I hoped she would be to counteract Taylor’s evil and her son’s idiocy. I hoped he’d had at least one good parent growing up.
But even I could understand the need for acceptance. I’d craved it after the indifference I’d gotten from my own parents before they’d died. I was taken in by a family who only cared about making me smile again rather than the makeup I wore. For all I knew, Darren didn’t have that. Or, at the very least, he didn’t have it from the one person he wanted it from.
I thought hard about what to say, because it seemed important that I say the right thing. “Sometimes we hope for things to be a certain way, even though we know most likely it will never be. I think it’s better to temper expectations toward something realistic rather than something fantastical. It makes things easier when people let you down.”
He glanced over at me, lips twitching. “Did you read that out of a fortune cookie?”
I glared at him. “No. I just made that up on the spot. You should be writing this stuff down. It’s life changing. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position right now and be on the receiving end of a Helena Handbasket’s Lovely Life Lesson For Loving Yourself Lovingly For a Long Time™? Like, at least four people.”
“Nana, Paul, Larry and Matty?” he asked.
“Nana, Paul, Larry, and Johnny Depp,” I corrected. “Larry listened to my advice one time and grew this killer mustache that made him look like a Tom of Finland drawing. Matty finally went crazy and shaved it while he was sleeping and told me I’m never allowed to give facial-hair advice ever again, especially to her susceptible husband who thought Tom of Finland was a friend of ours from school. I thought Larry looked like a sexy daddy. Matty thought he looked like a police-sanctioned sketch drawing on a wanted poster for a man accused of accosting teenage girls in a park.”
“You know,” Darren said. “I don’t even question the things you say anymore.”
“That’s good,” I said, reaching over and patting his hand on the gearshift. “It’ll make your life easier in the long run.”
“Oh?” he said, sounding amused. “You’re thinking long-term already. Sandy, please. We’ve only been fake together for a few weeks.”
No matter what he would say later, the sound I made then was completely masculine and I didn’t flush horribly. “That’s… you don’t… oh my god.”
He decided to go easy on me. “I guess I should just let it go, huh?” he said. “My father. The fewer expectations I have, the less it’ll hurt after a little while.”
“Why do you want this?” I asked, trying to recover from my latest bout of embarrassment.
“What?”
“Him.”
Darren shrugged, but it spoke volumes when he resolutely kept his eyes forward. “He’s my dad.”
“Has he ever really been?”
He knew what I meant. “He never instigated anything. It was always my mom calling him. And we could never call his house. Or his office. He owned a construction company back then. Made good money. Mom liked him, even after she found out he was married, but I think it was more because he paid her money to keep quiet. Not that she ever asked for it. And she only took what she needed for me, nothing more. That’s just the kind of person she is, I guess. Not that I wanted anything to do with it, not after I found out where it came from. I always thought it was dirty.”
“She sounds like a good woman,” I said quietly.
“She is.” He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Which doesn’t really explain how she got involved with the likes of him, but something we do when we’re younger may not reflect who we are when we’re older.” He glanced over at me before looking away again. “We make stupid choices, you know? Maybe even do something we regret doing and wish there were ways to go back and change it.”
It was only then that I realized my hand was still on his. I pulled it back like he’d burned me. All my bravado fell by the wayside when I remembered my bathroom freak-out and the reasons behind why I’d needed to call Paul.
Because I had undeniable, disgustingly fond feelings for Darren Mayne.
I might have even been in like with him.
Which was awful. Because I didn’t like him at all.
Except for the parts I did.