The Guy in the Window

by Cara Dee

  I replied.

  Difficult to answer. These situations are never easy, but your mother and I will be fine. I’m looking for a new place. Your mother hasn’t decided if she’s staying yet.

  I poured another drink while I waited for her response, and I caught sight of a little green light appearing next to Adam’s avatar. I hadn’t deleted his message.

  Grace’s answer popped up.

  It’s gonna be weird with you not being together. I’ll see you next week. Gotta go.

  I hurriedly typed in a last message.

  Okay. Talk soon, darling. Love you.

  She was probably already gone.

  I sighed and scrubbed at my chest, flicking another glance at Adam’s profile picture.

  I took a big gulp of whiskey and clicked on his two messages to me.

  Hi. I think you’re my dad’s brother. Would you like to get to know me?

  (I know that sounds weird, but it was better than the five-page novella I wrote and deleted before.)

  “I want to get to know my daughter, that’s what I want,” I muttered into my glass. And the kid had deleted a five-page “novella”? I thought he was a parent. If Grace had texted me anything longer than a paragraph, I would be overwhelmed with joy. Perhaps I should bestow some wisdom. As a matter of fact, that was exactly what I needed to do. Adam had a daughter; he should prepare himself to be forgotten.

  I took another swig and then cracked my knuckles. Here we go.

  Hello, Adam. I admit to having read your profile, and I couldn’t help but notice you have a young daughter. I have one too. Grace is nineteen now, and she’s on her second year at Berkeley.

  That will be your girl one day. And, if we pretend I’m your uncle for a moment, here’s a little word of advice from me. Don’t let her slip through your fingers. Encourage those five-page novellas. They shouldn’t be deleted. They are far better than two-word responses about whether or not she’s coming home for Thanksgiving.

  I wish you and the family well,

  Everett

  I pressed send before I emptied my drink.

  Bella climbed up on my back and rested her chin on my shoulder. “Who’s that, Daddy?” She pointed at my phone and Everett’s profile picture.

  I could go with a variety of answers, none of which were suited for a four-year-old’s ears. Although, she wouldn’t know the meaning of distinguished silver fox. On the other hand, after reading my uncle’s message to me, all the flattering comments flew out the window, and there really only was one response left.

  “A jagoff,” I said. “Didn’t I tell you to go brush your teeth, huh?” I leaned back and trapped her between the back of the couch and me, and she squealed. “Come on, double trouble, time to get ready for bed.”

  “I can’t move!” she laughed. “Someone save me!”

  I grinned. “Looks like someone can’t hear you.”

  Two

  Everett

  “Good morning, Mr. Scott!”

  I winced. “Not so loud, please, Margaret.”

  I’d just barely survived the commute into the city.

  “Are you feeling under the weather?” she asked. “I can move your lunch meeting if you’d like.”

  I waved it off and accepted the messages for me. “I’ll be fine. I just need coffee and a bottle of Excedrin.” I read one of the notes and was glad they were coming to fix my table today. While the younger generation wanted everything digitalized, I did my best work by hand, and my drafting table needed a new light installed.

  “I’ll get your coffee, sir, no problem.”

  I thanked her and disappeared into my office, where I could pretend to work all day.

  I was between two major projects, which was when I liked to take some time off to do pro bono work for an organization in the city that raised funds for more shelters and youth centers. It took very little of my time, and it allowed me to take a breather every now and then.

  Slumping down behind my desk, I spun the chair around to face the Chicago skyline, and I sat there like a zombie, staring unseeingly at the skyscrapers.

  My life was going absolutely nowhere incredibly quickly.

  I drummed my fingers along the armrests, and my gaze landed on my wedding band. Had Melinda taken hers off yet? Had she taken it off the times she’d been out with other men?

  Disgust flared up within me, and I yanked off my ring and dumped it in one of my drawers.

  I flexed my fingers and eyed the faint tan line. Twenty-five years down the drain. Twenty-five years I didn’t know what to think of anymore. I couldn’t chalk it up as a learning experience or a bad mistake. I couldn’t say I regretted it either. Not only had it given me Grace, but Melinda and I had been through hardships together. The deaths of family members, my cancer scare a few years ago that thankfully turned out to be benign, two miscarriages, financial struggles before I started here and eventually made partner…

  There was a sense of loss in me, but it went beyond what I was going through now.

  I’d lost my footing.

  A quiet knock alerted me to Margaret’s return, and I faced my desk again and told her to come in as I switched on my computer.

  “Your coffee, dear.” She slipped sometimes, calling me dear instead of sir, and it was most likely the main reason she still worked for me. She was a mother to everyone at the office, including me. “I took the liberty and made it extra strong.”

  “I appreciate it, Margaret.” I accepted the cup and took a slow sip, feeling the caffeinated heat melt through my body. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

  She smiled kindly, then hesitated.

  I lifted a brow. “Yes?”

  She cleared her throat and gestured vaguely at the other half of my office. It was where my drafting table stood, as well as a table where I could hold smaller meetings. There were usually six chairs around it and six bottles of sparkling water in the center. But that was before I’d dumped the paperwork and prints from past projects I’d kept in my home office on it. Now the chairs were stacked together in a corner, and I couldn’t see the water.

  “Would you like me to arrange for these to go to the archive?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Most of it is from when I worked in California. I’ll find a place for it once I move.”

  She put a hand to her chest, concern taking over. “So, it’s true? You and Melinda are getting divorced?”

  Fuck.

  I cleared my throat and adjusted my tie. “Let’s not waste time on office gossip, Margaret. Yes, it’s true. That will be all.”

  “Of course, sir.” She made a quick exit.

  I took another sip and dug out a bottle of painkillers from my top drawer.

  It was going to be a long day.

  After swallowing two pills, I pulled up my usual browser windows and started with Facebook. A desperate “just in case” Grace had messaged.

  “Fuck.” There was a message, one I’d hoped wouldn’t arrive. God, I was a fool. Why had I responded to Adam? That’s what I got for drinking half a bottle of whiskey on an empty stomach.

  My elbow hit the table, and I covered part of my face with a hand, leaving me to peek between my fingers. Regret flooded me and tasted of battery acid.

  “Might as well get it over with,” I muttered and clicked on the message.

  I winced at the length of it and retrieved my reading glasses from my briefcase.

  I supposed I was getting the five-page novella now.

  Good morning. I read your message a few times last night but wasn’t sure what to say. I guess a few warning bells have gone off. But duly noted, I won’t let my daughter slip through my fingers.

  Is that what’s happened to you? If that’s the case, I’m sorry. You should do something about it because you never know when it’s too late.

  Thanks for wishing the family well, hollow as the sentiment was, but I’m not on speaking terms with anyone in the family anymore. It was one of the reasons I sought you out. I figured, i
f there’s someone our family doesn’t like, he must be a decent man. But then you took four days to respond, and I’m wondering if you were drunk when you finally did. In which case, I’m willing to bet you never intended to respond at all. Alcohol, huh?

  I’m gonna pretend to be your nephew for a moment and give you some advice. Don’t project your own shitty relationship with your daughter on to others. Kids don’t leave their parents for no reason.

  I won’t bother you again, but hey, I wish you well!

  Adam

  I sat back and removed my glasses, in utter shock. The hostility radiated off the screen, and his biting remarks hit too close to home. I’d been trying to get closer to Grace for so long. The last thing I needed was some young punk who painted me as a deadbeat father.

  He was not getting the last word, that was for damn sure.

  Slipping on my glasses again, I thought about my response and then let my fingers flit across the keyboard.

  Adam,

  You are correct. I had no intention whatsoever of answering your message. But as you pointed out: alcohol, huh? I’m currently going through a divorce, so I suppose I wasn’t in the right mind-set yesterday. Whiskey made it worse, as did my hangover today, as did reading your remarks on my daughter. Don’t speak of things of which you have no knowledge. Grace is my world. Congratulations on not being part of our family. I believe we will end things here.

  Everett

  There. I nodded, satisfied.

  “No, no, no.” I leaned forward when I saw he was typing. Fucking hell, no. Could I block the punk? I truly wanted it to be over. We didn’t know each other. “Stop typing,” I barked at the screen. We didn’t have to be in each other’s lives, and we certainly didn’t have to continue this passive-aggressive bitch fight.

  I groaned as his message popped up.

  I’m sorry to hear about your divorce, and I’m sorry for taking my own issues out on you. If we hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot, maybe we would’ve met up for beers to exchange life stories and talk about our daughters and how we’re terrified to lose them. Maybe we would’ve been family one day.

  I don’t have anyone left of my immediate family, but I’ve heard stories about you. And if they’re true, I thought, here’s a guy who will be able to relate, and I wouldn’t feel the way I do anymore.

  Or, we forget this ever happened, and we go with your initial plan of never responding.

  What’s it gonna be, Ev? Is there no room in your life for a nephew? I’m housebroken and everything.

  Adam

  Adam knocked the fight out of me with that message.

  How could one be so brutally honest about their own vulnerability?

  I sighed heavily and turned away from my computer, twisting the chair so I could look out over the city with the lake in the background.

  It wasn’t a matter of having room in my life. It was about the fact that I probably didn’t have much of a life to begin with.

  Adam didn’t have any family. How was that possible? And how the fuck had our family managed to push away another member?

  Was there even anything left of the family at all? I was gone. My older brother, Kane, died of cancer a few years ago. I supposed our two sisters were still part of the drama. God knew my mother was the worst of them, so she was unlikely to go anywhere. My father died a long time ago, but he had brothers and sisters, and so the family tree continued trapping more innocent souls by marriage. Or, in Adam’s case, by being adopted.

  It made me curious about Lena, Kane’s wife and Adam’s adoptive mother. She’d been quieter than the rest, and she’d adored Adam. Lena wasn’t a Scott by birth either; she had her own family. It was difficult to believe she’d let go of Adam.

  He’s waiting for you.

  I didn’t know what to write to him. Facing the computer once more, I read and reread his message, admitting to myself I found him brave for being the bigger man. He could’ve easily blocked me or simply left things there.

  I would have.

  Perhaps that was an indication it might do me good to have him in my life.

  With that in mind, the words came easier.

  I apologize for my behavior, Adam.

  There is room in my life for a housebroken nephew, in fact. The question is if there is room in your life for an uncle who doesn’t quite know what he’s doing anymore. But I’m willing to plead my case if you hold interviews at a bar in the city sometime.

  Everett

  As I got out of the cab, my phone rang, and when I saw it was Melinda calling, I debated not answering.

  Then, if I didn’t, it would only come back and bite me in the ass. That part didn’t change after divorce papers had been signed, I’d learned.

  “Hello,” I answered and walked over to the busy crosswalk.

  “Hey, you’re not home yet,” she said.

  “Astute observation. I worked late, and now I’m on my way to meet someone.” I knew how that sounded the second the words were out, and I didn’t want to deal with any drama, so I explained. “It looks like I sort of have a nephew.”

  Melinda made a weird sound. “Uh, since when? Are you in touch with your family again?”

  I pressed a finger to my ear to block out some of the traffic noise. “Do you remember I told you that my brother and his wife adopted a boy? He was around four or something when he joined the family, so I must’ve been…” Huh. Twenty-two.

  “It just occurred to you, didn’t it?” Melinda drawled. “I met the boy, Everett. It didn’t happen before you met me.”

  Fine, then. “Very well.”

  “Adam, right? What about him?”

  “He contacted me on Facebook,” I replied as the light turned green. “We’re meeting up for dinner now.”

  It had been Adam’s suggestion yesterday when he’d confirmed that he did have room in his life for an uncle who didn’t know what he was doing. I admit, dinner sounded elaborate for a first meeting, but I’d decided against proposing something different. He’d sent me the link to an Irish sports bar near Dearborn Station, and that was where I was now.

  “Ah, so you’re not coming home,” Melinda noted, annoyed. “A text would’ve been nice.”

  Nope, try again. “Three days ago, I called to say I would be late home from work, and you went on a harangue about the fact that I didn’t have to tell you anything anymore. We are over, you reminded me, and you had other things to deal with. Make up your damn mind.” I ended the call and opened the door to the sports bar, immediately approving of Adam’s pick.

  I could relax in here. Flat screens everywhere, Cubs memorabilia, and men and women enjoying their happy hour with beers and burgers.

  What I didn’t expect was seeing Adam behind the bar.

  How did a graduate from Northwestern end up here?

  He poured beers and chatted with the group of men occupying the stools, and he laughed at something one of them said. It was bizarre, the whole thing. For several days now, I’d had still images of him in my mind. I’d gone through the collection of pictures he’d posted on Facebook, mostly of him and his daughter, but here he was in the flesh. His hair was a tad longer than in his profile photo. Bordering on shaggy. He ran a hand through it and nodded at a server, then whistled at another.

  “Kell! I’m clocking out and becoming a guest.”

  A big, burly man poked his head out from the kitchen. I didn’t hear what he said, but they were both in a good mood and exchanged a fist bump.

  I watched Adam untie the short black apron around his hips, and he removed a towel from over his shoulder.

  I knew he was a jeans and T-shirt guy; I shouldn’t be surprised to see him in such clothes. It was perfectly on par for the establishment, even though most of the patrons wore suits because they’d come straight here from work.

  The man, Kell, nodded at me, and I instantly went rigid. Christ, I’d just been standing there gawking.

  Adam turned to me, and he smirked lazily. But as he got closer,
I was pretty sure that was nervousness I saw in his eyes. I hoped so, at least. It would put us on equal ground. My stomach tightened, and I cleared my throat and stepped forward with a polite smile.

  “You gotta be my uncle.” He extended a hand.

  I shook his hand. “And you, my housebroken nephew.” He was taller than I’d expected. Only a couple inches shorter than me. “Nice to meet you, Adam—again, I should say.”

  “You too, Ev.” No one called me that these days. It was the second time Adam had done it. “So, I hope you don’t mind I lured you to one of my workplaces. The employee discount is a little too good to resist.”

  “Not a problem at all.” I followed him when he gestured to a table, and he snatched up two menus from the bar on the way. “How many workplaces do you have? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. I have three jobs.” He slid into a booth, and I sat down across from him as he handed me a menu. “I’m a programmer by trade, but the perks here and at my other spot are too good.” He scratched his nose. “I recommend the double trouble burger.”

  A programmer. That made more sense. Kane had been born with the math gene, while I’d gotten stuck with the ability to draw.

  “The double trouble, you say.” I scanned the menu, and, yes, I didn’t see how anyone would not enjoy that one. Double patty, double bacon, double cheese.

  “It may or may not be my daughter’s creation.”

  I glanced up and smiled softly. “You don’t mention her name on Facebook. You refer to her as DT.”

  Adam grinned. “Double trouble. Her name is Bella.”

  That was a pretty name. “Double trouble, it is.”

  “It’ll be faster if I just do this myself.” He scooted out of the booth. “Couple, two, three sides to share? I’m getting a beer if you don’t mind.”

  “That’ll be great,” I replied. “And I’ll have a beer too. I’m not picky, but I prefer draft.”

  “We have plenty of options. I’ll be right back.”

  Well. So far, so good. I unfolded my napkin and placed it in my lap, wondering when I’d last had a beer. It was true what I’d told Adam; I wasn’t picky about flavors or styles. I just didn’t particularly enjoy bottled or canned beer. Therefore, it was something I had when I was out with Mick and Shawn. I didn’t remember when that last was. It was definitely before Mick’s youngest was born, so sometime before summer.