When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(11)

Brooke looked at the map on her phone. “San Diego?”

“Have you been?” Carmen asked.

Brooke shook her head. “No. I’ve been to LA, Hollywood, Disneyland, and the place my dad calls home.”

“Not even the beach?”

“Well, yeah, a couple of times, but I couldn’t even tell you which ones. I was a teenager.” Her visits to Southern California as a kid had been few and far between.

“You’re in for a treat then. San Diego is totally different from anywhere else in California. Certainly from your dad’s place.”

“That wouldn’t take much.”

“It’s not that bad,” Carmen said.

Brooke glared at her friend. “It’s too hot, too dry, and there’s no water anywhere. Lakes, rivers . . . ocean. You haven’t lived until the wind starts blowing and you can’t open your eyes as you’re walking into the grocery store.”

“A few days in San Diego is the prescription you need then.”

As the desert drifted into the rearview mirror and the city came into view, so did the coast and bay views from various places along the route.

They turned the air conditioner off and rolled down the windows.

The temperature had dropped twenty degrees even though the sun still hung bright in the sky. There was enough moisture in the air to kiss her skin, but not so much to suggest oppressive humidity.

Carmen booked a room at the Hyatt. The high-rise hotel offered views of the bay and glistening blue water that felt like home.

Brooke stood at the window staring down in absolute silence.

She’d missed this.

The water. The tranquility.

“You okay over there?” Carmen asked from the other side of the room.

“This is exactly what I needed.”

“I know.”

Brooke looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Let’s walk.”

Carmen grabbed her purse. “I’m ready.”

Less than twenty minutes later, they were strolling along the waterfront just outside the hotel with cups of ice cream from Seaport Village. Tourists and locals meandered around them. “I can’t believe how much cooler it is here,” Brooke found herself saying for the half a dozenth time since they’d arrived.

“It’s the beach.”

“I get that . . . but. I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to make that big of a difference inland up in Washington. Not as much as here.”

“You’re comparing apples to oranges.”

“More like chicken to lettuce.”

Carmen licked the ice cream off her spoon before talking again. “What kept your dad in Upland anyway?”

“Work. Women.”

Carmen laughed. “He hasn’t worked since the stroke, and when did his last marriage end?”

Brooke narrowed her eyes. “Oh, man . . . eight years ago, I think. He used to go out with friends.”

“Before the stroke.”

“Yeah.”

“But not now.”

“Not as much,” Brooke said.

“Why stay?”

She shrugged. “It’s what he knows.”

Carmen pointed at her with her spoon. “It’s not what you know.”

“What are you saying?”

“Your dad put you in charge of his care, right?”

“Yeah.” She had his advance health care directive before the stroke and durable power of attorney. It had been a godsend then and was proving even more useful now.

“Why not move your dad to Seattle?”

Brooke blew off the idea with an exaggerated breath. “He would hate Seattle as much as I hate Upland.”

“So, you have to compromise your life to accommodate the remainder of his?”

Carmen had a point, but it wasn’t that simple.

They walked away from the shopping crowds and found a bench. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around the thought of him being in a home. Moving him to another state . . . I don’t see it. Besides, there isn’t a lot keeping me in Seattle either.”

“Ouch,” Carmen said with a recoil.

Brooke reached out, touched her knee. “Not you. You’re my rock. You know that. Marshall and I had a lot of mutual friends. Me being gone makes it easier for them to figure out who to invite over without hurting someone else’s feelings.”

“You did not just say that. Who gives a crap about party invites?”

Brooke put down her half-eaten ice cream. “It’s easier this way. The breakup. This distance is exactly what I need to put Marshall in my past. Maybe in a year I’ll change my mind. Who knows what’s going to happen in a year? My dad could get sick again.”

“He could get better.”

Brooke leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder, looked out over the bay. “I used to be optimistic. Now I’m wondering if I need to sell the condo to have the money for a home for him.”

“You still have to live somewhere.”

“I know. But the market is really good right now. I could invest the money and rent a small place for me, and when my dad’s money runs out, pull from the condo money. It won’t last forever but . . .”

“Dads don’t last forever.”