When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(42)

Her dad snorted. “You-you’re t-telling me.”

Deep breath in . . . long breath out . . .

“Have you made any friends?” she asked.

Another snort. “Everyone here is old.”

“The price you pay for not dying young,” she said, joking.

Then, after a second, she heard her father laugh. It didn’t last long, but it was better than a disgruntled snort or snide comment.

“I tried.”

It was her turn to chuckle. “Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. And that damn motorcycle.”

Now her dad laughed hard.

Brooke felt a genuine grin. “Should I bring up the four wives?”

“No,” he said, plain as day.

“Okay. I’ll stop while I’m ahead.”

She heard her father yawn. “Th-the food isn’t bad. Needs salt.”

“You can add it. It’s safe to say many people there have issues with their blood pressure.”

“They’re old,” he accused again.

“And you’re thirty?”

“Ha.”

Brooke sat in a chair by her open slider, enjoying the breeze while they talked. “Think of it this way, Dad. You’re the young one there, you have the pick of all the women. You can find wife number five.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“Just make sure she has money, okay?”

“Ha. Not a bad . . . bad idea.”

She knew he was joking.

“When will I see you?” he asked.

“I just turned in my revisions for the campaign I was working on and I have a call with my boss later today. They want me to work with a team on my next project.” She wasn’t terribly happy with that.

“Oh? Do you do that?”

“Not normally. But I’ve been delayed a lot. I think it’s their way of making sure the work gets done on time.”

“Oh. My fault.”

Brooke nodded her head but kept her words in. “Reason, not fault. Life happens. Anyway. I do need to focus on work. If it’s okay with you, I’ll be there on Tuesday.”

“You can come and take me to lunch.”

“I know. Let me get ahead at work, and I’ll do that. Deal?”

Her dad finally relented with another yawn. “Deal.”

Brooke sighed in relief.

They spoke for a few more minutes. She asked how he felt physically. Was he sleeping? How was the care?

He answered but didn’t bother with questions of his own.

At the end of the call, she was happy she’d picked up the phone. They were in a better place . . . for now.

Brooke fiddled with the phone, turning it on end, over and over while she thought about the conversation.

A noise from the other end of the terrace drew her attention to what was in front of her.

Luca walked her way, his expression filled with guilt. “Was that your father?”

“Eavesdropping, Luca?”

He lifted a finger in the air, pointed behind him. “I was out here before I heard you on the phone. I’d have to walk by you to go back downstairs . . .”

She didn’t give him a pass. “Eavesdropping.”

He deflated. “Yes. I’m sorry. I tried to stop myself, but then I was too interested in hearing the conversation. I’m a horrible man.”

Her insides started to warm. “An apology, a confession, and then throwing yourself on the sacrificial sword. Well played.”

“Saint Luca,” he said, standing taller, smiling wider.

“I doubt that.”

“Well . . .” He wore a sheepish grin. “Your father?”

“Yes. That was my dad.”

“You are very patient with him.” Luca leaned against the wall outside, folded his arms across his chest.

“I have my moments. Trust me. Reasoning with an elder who has lost their independence is a monumental task when they’re not on board. I need him on board.”

“And your work?”

“You heard that part, too?”

“I heard the whole thing, bella. Is your work giving you trouble?”

His endearment didn’t go unnoticed, but she didn’t bring attention to it. Instead, she answered his question. “I haven’t worked on a team project since I was fresh out of college. Even when my dad had the stroke, I was assigned people to work with me, not the other way around.” It was a giant step in the wrong direction. But delays in her projects were a reflection on the company, and they needed to cover their asses.

“You seem resigned to it.”

“I am. I deserve it. My focus has been everywhere but work. One more reason for me to cut my losses with the condo and get it behind me as fast as possible.”

“Did you get another offer?”

He remembered.

“I did. We opened escrow yesterday. Monday I’m going up there to meet the air conditioner guy, the electrician, finish the painting, and haul the rest of my dad’s crap to the dump. Anything left over comes back with me. If it doesn’t fit in the car, I don’t need it.”

“That sounds like a big list.”

“I’ve given myself a deadline.”

“How long will you be there?”

“Only Monday. I have to be here on Tuesday to see my dad. So, I’ll get up early and likely drive home by midnight.”