Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(65)

“And you know how to put in the pipes and make sure the lights turn on when you flip the switch?”

“Yeah, pretty much. My dad taught me the basics of everything. The more you can do, the less likely they hire someone else.”

“Your dad is a general contractor?”

“Was. He had a stroke two years ago. Two or three strokes, actually. The doctors aren’t sure how many. One right after the other.”

I sat back, shocked. Again, the idea that there were still things we didn’t know about each other felt strange, never mind something so tragic. I had thought we’d shared everything.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. That must be so hard.”

Cory shrugged. “It is what it is. But yeah, he was a GC and we were in business together. Bishop & Son. We struggled for a while, but then he got a big job, some loyal guys, and we started to take off.”

“Then he had the strokes,” I said quietly. “Is that why you’re getting your license? So you can keep the business going?”

“No,” Cory said. His dark eyes took on a pained look. “When it was obvious Pops wasn’t going to recover enough to work again, I sold the company to pay for the long-term care home he’s in. My mom died when I was a kid, and there was no way I could take care of him myself. So he’s there and I’ve been working under Randall Martin, who’s a rotten son of a bitch when you get right down to it, but if I get my license…” He shook his head and laughed ruefully. “Actually, don’t know what that will do. You gotta have capital to start a business. But I’m going to get the license anyway. It’s what my dad wants me to do. Hopefully I’ll get it before he forgets who I am altogether.”

“Why would he forget you?”

“He’s got Alzheimer’s now. It’s slow, but it’s chewing up his memories, one after the other. Cheery story, right?” He jerked his chin at the children’s furniture store I’d told him to drive to. “This it?”

We pulled into the parking lot, I was stunned silent by Cory’s story. So terrible, I thought, but he handled himself well. Bravely. I wouldn’t be half so stoic if the same had happened to my father. I could hardly imagine it: invisible lightning striking and instantly stealing the vitality out of a once-healthy man.

I longed to express my condolences or find something comforting to say to Cory, but I knew he didn’t want it. Not pity, not sympathy. He took the cards he was dealt and he did his best. I felt good for helping him, for opening my house to him when he needed it, but I now realized that even if I hadn’t, Cory would have figured it out. Somehow.

He was already out of the truck cab; he startled me out of my thoughts by opening my door for me.

“Oh, thank you,” I said, stepping out. “I wasn’t waiting for you to do that.”

He smiled. “I don’t mind.”

“So you’re a chivalrous one? In this day and age, when people are writing articles about whether or not it’s acceptable to still open doors for women?”

He made a face as we started across the parking lot. “Maybe I’m old-fashioned. Or maybe I don’t want my mother’s ghost to haunt me for being a rude prick.”

I laughed lightly. Are we flirting? This feels like flirting. I cleared my throat. “Well, I hope your chivalry ends with women paying for things. Because I got this.” I nodded at the furniture store.

“The hell you do,” he said, stopping on the sidewalk. He looked at the store as if for the first time. “Hold up. What is this place? One of those overpriced boutique joints?”

“Yeah, but this is on me. If my paralegal is right—which he always is—your contractor’s test is going to cost a pretty penny. And—”

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Cory held up his hands, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Why are you looking that stuff up?”

“It’s what I do. I’m prepared for anything.”

“Yeah, well, I appreciate what you’ve done for me. Really. But you’re done.”

“Done? I’m just trying to—”

“I know what you’re trying to do, but no thanks. From here on out, I handle my own stuff, which includes buying my kid her goddamn furniture. Got it? And it’s not going to come from a place like this.”

I crossed my arms, a smile twitching the corners of my mouth. “You’re going to deprive me of the joy of shopping? What a rude prick.”

“I’m serious, Alex.”

“So am I, Cory.”

“You keep your credit cards in your purse or I walk.”

I started to retort but he was serious. He wasn’t playing that tired game, the one Drew and our friends’ husbands sometimes played, bickering over the dinner check until it bordered on embarrassing and someone had to claim it. Cory’s integrity was irritating but honest, and I found myself wilting slightly.

He saw it and his crooked smile returned. “Come on. If you’re up for a bit of a drive, there’s a much better place than this overpriced factory bullshit.”

We walked back to his truck and I stood beside it.

“What?”

“I’m waiting for you to open the door for me.”

Cory burst out laughing. “God, you’re a pain in the ass.”