A Father's Name(79)
He visibly relaxed. “Yes.”
“Fine,” she said, feeling like a wimp for caving.
Her father smiled and said, “After work then?”
“I had plans after work today.” Plans that involved Tyler. She still hadn’t come to any actual concrete plans other than showing up on his doorstep and saying I love you, then outlining why his past and her past didn’t matter—only their future did.
“Can you put your plans off until after the meeting?” her father asked. “It really is important, or else you know I wouldn’t ask.”
Tucker snorted. “Yes you would.”
“Yeah, you’re right. But we’re on. Today, after work. He’ll meet you in your office.” Her father turned to leave her paint room.
“Pops, you didn’t tell me who my mystery meeting is with.”
“I know,” was his cryptic response. “He’ll be here at five.”
TUCKER THOUGHT ABOUT changing before her meeting with her father’s secret buyer, but opted not to. After all, whoever it was wanted to buy into the business. They shouldn’t have some unrealistic idea about who she was.
She glanced down at today’s green T-shirt that read, Only the Wind is Allowed in My Face. That definitely set the tone for the meeting.
She glanced at the clock. Five to five.
She opened up her computer, but knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. She couldn’t concentrate on the forms in front of her.
“Angelina.”
Tucker saw Tyler in her doorway. His jeans were neatly pressed, and his workshirt was not only equally pressed, but also pristine, despite the fact he’d worked all day. Even now, without his high-powered business suits, he was as impeccable as ever.
Back when he’d asked her out—it seemed decades ago—she’d joked with Eli that he was designer suits and the only designer she knew was Jacqueline Smith at K-Mart. They were ill-suited both figuratively and literally.
And yet.
Tyler Martinez was a perfect fit for her.
He didn’t think so, and she suspected it was going to take some serious negotiating on her part, but somehow she’d make him understand. But not now, with her mysterious potential partner coming in. “Ty, what’s up?”
“I was hoping to talk to you.”
She glanced at the clock. It was five on the dot. “I have a meeting in a few minutes. Can it wait?”
“No, I’d rather tell you now,” he said.
“Come in and close the door then. We may have to cut this short, though. Pops’s surprise should be here any moment. I could come over after my meeting?” They’d definitely have more privacy at his house than here. And even though she didn’t have a specific script in mind, she knew what she wanted to say to Tyler should be said in privacy.
“If we’re interrupted, I’ll go. But I want to start now, before I lose my nerve.”
Tucker scoffed. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” She pointed to the couch, and followed him over and sat on the other end. “You’ve never been someone prone to nervousness.”
“This is different,” he assured her.
She wanted to kick herself—or maybe kick him. She had so much to say to him, but not here. Not like this. For now, she’d listen. Later, she’d shake some sense into him. “So, talk.”
“Do you remember that registered letter?”
“Why no, Tyler, it totally slipped my mine,” she teased, but when he didn’t laugh, she immediately quit doing so. “Yes.”
“It was…” He shook his head. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning. My father was a drunk. We’ve sort of covered this, but I want to say it all. I don’t remember a time he didn’t have a drink either in his hand, or close at hand.”
“I’m sorry,” Tucker said. “But you’re nothing like him.” She’d tried to reassure him of that before, but she didn’t think he believed her.
“He was a mean drunk.” Tyler continued. “And he was a mechanic when he was sober, but by the time I was twelve or thirteen, he was rarely sober enough to work, which meant he got fired from every garage he worked at. He started doing repairs out of the garage at home, I ain’t workin’ for no one else ever again, he told me, as if he had a choice, as if he’d been the one to walk away rather than the one fired. Problem was, he didn’t do the work, so I took care of the cars at night. It kept us afloat.”