He told her about the Subaru's rattle, and how satisfying it was to finally track down the problem. Normal stuff, easy stuff. Until she asked, "What made you become a mechanic? " He stared at the question for a long moment before answering. "My dad, he had a shop when I was growing up, smaller than mine, if you can believe that. He taught me everything.
How to listen to an engine, how to diagnose problems, how to tell when someone was trying to you. " He died when I was 17. Heart attack in the shop. I found him under a Chevy Impala. The three dots appeared and disappeared several times before her response came through. I'm so sorry.
It was a long time ago. That doesn't make it easier. No, it doesn't. Another pause. Then my father died when I was 19.
Cancer. He built Heart Industries from nothing, and I watched him work himself to death trying to make it bigger. Sometimes I wonder if the company was worth it. Ethan read the message twice, understanding the weight of what she just shared. Is that why you took over to finish what he started?
Maybe. Or maybe I was too scared to imagine doing anything else? That's honest. You're easy to be honest with. He didn't know what to say to that, so he just sent back same.
They texted until midnight. The conversation wandering through childhood memories and bad jobs and the strange moments that had led them both to where they were. When Viven finally said good night, Ethan sat in the dark living room and realized something that should have terrified him, but didn't. He was falling for her. Fast, messy, completely impractical, but real.
His phone buzzed one more time. Tomorrow, 2:00 p.m. Wear something you don't mind getting wet. He typed back, "What are we doing? It's a surprise, trust me.
Should I be worried? " Probably, "But do it anyway. " He laughed and sent back a thumbs up. Then headed to bed with his mind already racing through possibilities. The aquarium maybe or a harbor cruise. Something that involved water and wouldn't require him to pretend he knew anything about fine dining. Whatever it was, he'd figure it out.
He was good at figuring things out even when they didn't make sense. Sunday morning arrived with Sophie jumping on his bed at 7:30, which was apparently her new favorite way to wake him up. Dad, you have a date today. What are you wearing? Where are you going?
Can I help you pick your shirt? Ethan groaned and pulled the pillow over his face. Sophie, it's 7:30. The date isn't until 2:00. That's only 6 and 1/2 hours.
You need to plan. I need to sleep. She yanked the pillow away. No sleeping, planning. Get up.