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.
There was no winning this argument, so Ethan dragged himself out of bed and stumbled toward the kitchen. Sophie followed, already rattling off suggestions like she'd been thinking about this all night. You should wear the blue shirt, not the one with the stain, the other blue one. And your good jeans, not the work ones. And you need to shower first because you still smell like the shop.
Thanks for that. Just being honest. She climbed onto a kitchen chair, watching him make coffee with the intensity of a football coach reviewing game footage. Are you nervous? Should I be?
Probably. She's really pretty and really rich. That's intimidating. When did you become an expert on dating? I watch a lot of TV.
When Aunt Sarah thinks I'm doing homework, Ethan poured himself coffee and leaned against the counter. So, if I need you to understand something, this thing with Vivian, it might not work out. Why not? Because we're really different. She runs a billion dollar company.
I fix cars. She lives in a world I don't understand. And I live in a world she's probably never even thought about. Sophie crossed her arms, looking way too much like her aunt again. So So it's complicated.
Love is always complicated. That's what they say on TV. This isn't TV, kiddo. But you like her and she likes you. I could tell when she came to the shop, she looked at you the same way you look at broken cars.
Ethan blinked. I'm not sure that's a compliment. It is. You look at broken cars like you want to fix them, like you care about making them better. Sophie hopped down from the chair and hugged him around the waist.
She looked at you like she wants to know how you work. That's good. He hugged her back, wondering when his daughter had gotten so wise about things she shouldn't have to think about yet. When did you grow up? I've always been this smart.
You just didn't notice. The morning passed too slowly and too fast at the same time. Ethan showered, shaved, agonized over the blue shirt versus the gray one, then changed back to the blue because Sophie was right about most things. He checked his phone every 5 minutes, even though Viven hadn't texted since last night. At 1:30, Sarah showed up to take Sophie for the afternoon.
That's Sarah. Sophie ran to the door. Dad's going on a date and he's super nervous. I'm not nervous, Ethan lied. You changed your shirt three times, Sophie informed Sarah.
And you keep checking your phone. Sarah grinned. That's nervous. I hate both of you. No, you don't.
Sarah pulled him aside while Sophie gathered her things. Seriously though, how are you feeling about this? Terrified. Good. That means you care.
What if I screw it up? What if I'm boring or awkward or she realizes I don't belong in her world? Then you'll deal with it. But Ethan, Sarah squeezed his arm. Stop assuming you're not good enough.