Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

17. Mont

Chapter seventeen

Mont

“ W hat would you say if I said I had the most exciting news? Blow your socks off kind of news? Blow your socks clean across the country news? Blow your—”

“Whoa, Dad.” I wave my fork at him, and a piece of bacon falls off and lands on my plate.

We’re at Dad’s favorite diner. It’s not exactly a greasy spoon, and it’s not gourmet either. I find it to be a slightly soulless mix of both, but equally dissatisfying on both ends. It’s a family favorite spot, and we’ve been coming here for years. Along with the five-star haunts, my parents love this place. A friend of my dad used to own it, but he sold it to the new owners years ago, and since then, I think it’s changed hands half a dozen times. I’m not sure why we still come. I guess Dad likes the old and familiar, even if the food is quite subpar, the décor and furnishings are dated, and the place is usually packed full of kids whose favorite breakfast pastime is to scream until their lungs pop onto the outside of their body.

“Anyway, what is it? Or are you going to leave me in suspense for the next few weeks and not tell me?” I ask. Dad ambushed me this morning with an absurdly early phone call. He didn’t ask if I wanted to go for breakfast. No, he quite literally commanded it.

Thank goodness Evilla hadn’t spent the night. For the past two weeks, we’ve been doing that on weekends—Friday nights and Saturday nights mostly. Last night, she had a wicked headache and wanted to go home early. I’d picked her up, so I grudgingly drove her home. The grudging part was because I wanted to take her to the hospital since the pain was so bad that she was feeling ill from it, but she told me all she needed was a few ibuprofen, some silence, and her bed. I understand why she didn’t want to spend the night, and I wasn’t offended. It’s tough having someone else see you when you’re at your worst, and sometimes all you want when you feel super crappy is your own familiar space.

She already texted me this morning and said she was feeling better. But I didn’t sleep well last night because I was so worried about her.

We haven’t told our parents that we’re dating yet. A few of my friends know, and Genevieve knows on her end, but that’s it. We’re not keeping secrets, but telling the family is a big next step that comes with expectations, questions, and endless pestering. We’d like to make it to the one-month mark before our time isn’t really ours anymore.

“I’ve found it. The perfect castle.”

Now he has my attention. I’m glad not to have to eat the gloopy eggs and the undercooked bacon. I gladly set my fork down for good. “Where?”

It’s been my mom’s dream to own a castle. That sounds rather posh, and my parents are all about being as normal as possible, not taking too much for themselves, not using wild amounts of resources, helping out wherever they can, and putting good back into the world. At the same time, my mom is also a hopeless romantic. She’s obsessed with Scottish romance, and it’s been her thing that if she and my dad ever bought a vacation property, it would be an old castle. She wasn’t dead set on Scotland, but I’m not sure anywhere else would have satisfied.

“Scotland,” my dad answers.

“No. You didn’t.”

“I did. It’s the right price, but that means it needs a lot of work.”

My dad could afford to buy something that doesn’t need a lot of work, but I think that’s the charm of finding a property. I could afford to buy something that’s been entirely fixed up and already renovated, but I don’t like doing that. I like the process. I like putting my personal touches on them. It’s not just about making money on top of money, even though the properties I’ve developed are investments for the most part. It’s the pleasure I get in taking something historical and old, something that has seen better days, and restoring it back to its former glory with an entirely new purpose and life.

“I was hoping you’d come with me. We could get a crew out there and be done with everything in six months.”

“Six months?” As far as my dad knows, I’m single. There’s no one on the other side waiting for me here. No one I might hurt by leaving for a huge chunk of time. “Dad. You know I have businesses to run.” That’s more than a legit excuse because it’s the truth. “I can’t just bail on them and leave.”

“I thought if you gave some notice, you’d be able to work it into your schedule. I could make the purchase now. You know there’s a planning period, meeting with architects, finding a crew, getting permits—the whole deal. It would be months before we’d even need to be out there.” Dad doesn’t have to do his puppy dog eyes. I’m his son, and this is for my mom. It’s special. It’s something they’ve waited their whole lives for, and he wants to involve me in the process so that it’s truly a family thing.

“Are you going to tell Mom about it? She’ll want to be there to make sure everything is perfect.”

“I’m going to tell her after I buy it,” Dad says.

“And if it’s not the right one?”

“Then it’ll be an investment. You can never go wrong fixing up something historical, either. Even if, in the end, we just turn it back over to the town as a museum or historical site, it’s worth saving. Those castles are centuries old.”

“Oh, good. People pooped in holes back then.”

Dad makes a noise in his throat. “I was hoping that if you had a few months, say three or four here, you’d be ready to leave by then. I know we’ve talked about doing this, and it was always just an abstract, but it’s real now. I wanted to tell you before I told your mother because it’s the first thing she’ll ask. That you come over with us.”

“We’d be over there for more than six months. Buildings like that could take years to restore.”

“I’m just talking about making it livable. Plus, we don’t have to be over there the whole time. You could do a few months there and come back here for a few months. We’re not selling our house here. This is still just a part-time property. Your mom doesn’t want to live in Europe full-time. Maybe we’d do something fun and keep half of it for us and turn half of it into a museum so it can be enjoyed by everyone year-round.”

The idea would sound perfectly awful to most people, but giving back has always given my parents so much genuine pleasure. They don’t do it the way some people do, to be seen and thought better of. Both my parents regularly volunteer at many different places. They give their time as well as their money.

Six months feels like an eternity. How would I explain that to Evilla? She’d feel like I was running out of here. Leaving her on her own.

“I don’t know, Dad. It might be more complicated for me with the businesses here. I’ve had my own share of making a few more purchases.”

“You have?”

No. I don’t really lie to my parents that often, the dating fiasco aside. Well, maybe. Isn’t there always more opportunities that come when you least expect them? The pudding company dropped into my lap, and I like it. I could leave it alone, but I don’t want to. I’m having fun with it. It’s a great work environment.

“What if I just came on and off? When I could get away. Do you think Mom would be satisfied with that?”

“I hope so.” Dad gives me his signature stare. It’s like getting ambushed by an overactive cat who has camouflaged themselves with both the wall and the carpet, even if the cat is white, the carpet is neon green, and the wallpaper is sixties brown. I’ve had this happen once before, and it was as alarming as it sounds.

“Would you?” I asked him.

“I hope so,” he repeated.

“Dad, that’s not an answer.”

Dad has already finished his breakfast. The man has a stomach of steel. He can eat even the worst of the undercooked eggs and bacon. He’ll leave a huge tip, too, and next time, he’ll still ask me to come here when we meet for a family breakfast.

“I know we’ve taught you to work hard, but I hope it’s not too hard. I want you to have a life, too, Mont. You’re my son, and I want you to be happy.”

“I’m working on that.”

Shit . That’s very obvious code for I’ve found someone, but I don’t want you to know about them yet. Dad knows me too well, though, and his bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows shoot up into his bushy salt-and-pepper hairline. It doesn’t matter what haircut the man has or how much styling product he uses. His hair is always thick and untamable. I inherited my mom’s finer, obedient hair and the widow’s peak she’s constantly bemoaning, although I think it makes her look beautiful and dignified.

“Have you met someone?”

“Dad.” I push congealed eggs around my plate. I’m not sure how many kids are screaming at full volume in here, but I think it’s currently more than ten. Unfortunately, we’re at one of the smallest tables, so we can hear each other well. As it is, our knees are practically pressing together on the underside of the table. “I don’t want to answer that. Yet.”

“Ahh.”

“Please don’t tell Mom. It just makes this more complicated because I can’t jet out of here for months at a time. Say there was someone. It would hurt her feelings, and she wouldn’t understand. She would think she’s getting left behind, and I’m making excuses and trying to do it the nice way.”

“Ouch.”

“Do not tell anyone. I’ll come clean when the time is right. We’re waiting until we’ve been dating for a month. We just want to have this as our time. Is that understandable?”

Dad nods, and thankfully, he doesn’t look hurt or betrayed. “Is she nice?”

“She’s nice. She’s very nice. She’s smart, she’s a hard worker, and she’s got great ideas. She’s also caring, sweet, friendly, magnetic, and pretty much all-around wonderful.”

“You work together?”

Fuck. Shit, shit, shit, fuck. “Who said that?”

“It’s alright, son. You’re an adult. You know what you’re doing. You’re a good man with a kind heart, and you would never do anything unprofessional. When we meet someone special, it can’t be helped where we meet them. I trust that you know what you’re doing.”

I sit back, a little stunned. My parents would always stick up for me and believe the best in me. They’ve believed in me in every other way my whole life. But this is a vote of confidence that is so ironclad and unshakable that it makes my eyes burn a little. My stomach, too. I don’t think it’s from bad bacon, either. People vastly underestimate just how much parental approval means. I don’t seek it, and contrary to the dating thing, I don’t live my life trying to obtain it by any and all means. Finding out that my dad respects me as a fellow human being and on a level of equals and friends as well as being his son? I knew it before, but it means a lot to hear it so casually stated yet so unshakable.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll come to Scotland. I’ll find a way. Even if it’s just for a few days here and there, I want to be a part of building the dream house for Mom. For you, too. It’s a family thing. I think your idea of building it half and half—half for the public and half for you both—is a great idea. History should be preserved, and it should be shared. It’s inspiring.” I push my plate away to the side of the small table. “Do you have any pictures?”

Another scream and a tinny wail adds to the noise in the background, but Dad just grins. “We could find a quieter place, but this one is comfortable, and there’s something to be said for the familiar.”

“I know a great crab shack if you’re ever in the mood for seafood-infused breakfast.”

Dad pulls out his phone and scrolls to his camera roll. I can already see the blurry details of the screenshots he’s saved. He’s serious, really serious about this then. This is the one. This is his castle. His and my mom’s, and no matter what it takes, I’m going to find a way to be there to make it special for them.

Dad gets the first photo loaded up and hands me his phone. “Sure, crab might be a nice change. Got any room in your schedule for lunch or dinner this week?”

I take his phone, and immediately, I’m staring at the most beautiful broken-down ruins of an ancient, towering monolith. Another century? This thing belongs to another world. Another time. The books of old, both real and fiction.

My mother is going to love it.

It’s also going to take more than six months of work. As I estimated before I even saw it, this one will probably take years, even with more than one crew working on it in various spots. That’s not what it would take to make it fully modern and livable. It’s probably just what it would take to restore the structural integrity of the place and make it safe for basic inhabitation.

“I always have time for lunch or dinner with my parents.”

“Any chance you can bring your mystery woman?” Dad asks.

“Not one single chance,” I say with a snort.

Dad laughs and shrugs. “I just thought I would try.”

I want to do this with my parents. It’s important to them. It’s their dream. But years of going back and forth to Europe? Being gone for weeks at a time, at minimum, because that’s what it would take to get anything accomplished and make a significant impact while I was there?

I still have no idea how I’m going to explain that to Evilla, but I’m going to have to find a way.