Chapter 19
Matt fidgeted.
"What the hell is he doing just standing there?" Julian whispered to Matt as they looked out the window, peeking out from behind the blinds like two old nosey neighbors watching their surroundings.
They kept watching as Mitchell Collings-Lloyd stared at the house. He'd arrived a few minutes before and stood outside the front gate, stared for a few minutes, then passed the gate and stared at the house again.
"I don't know," Matt responded in the same hushed tone as if his father could hear them.
"Why isn't he coming in?"
"I don't know," Matt responded as anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach. He wished he knew what his dad was thinking. He was proud of the house and the work Julian and he had completed, but the outside didn't compare to the changes inside. For a moment the tension eased as he thought of the irony—it had taken a year for them to renovate the house into the beautiful home it was today, and during the same time, Matt felt as if he too had been renovated into a new man.
"I wish he'd just get his ass in here already," Julian grumbled, obviously as anxious as Matt. "Have you thought about what you want to say to him?"
Matt shook his head. "I want to hear him out first." He wasn't sure what his father would say or how he felt about so many things that had happened lately. He was glad his father was here. He wanted him to see the changes they had made, to be proud of the work they had accomplished. His heart twisted at the thought that gaining any sort of praise from his parents might not be possible.
"Here he comes," Julian said, breaking into his thoughts. Julian turned Matt so they were facing each other. He reached up and held Matt's face in his hands then placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."
Matt's heart thumped in unison with the knock at the door. Julian gave Matt a final squeeze of his hand before darting upstairs, leaving Matt alone to settle the anxiety that twisted his stomach.
"Hi, Dad," he greeted his father when he opened the door. "Come on in."
His father entered the house and did a quick visual sweep of the entryway before he spoke. "Can we sit somewhere and talk?"
Matt nodded, words too difficult to voice. He led them to the kitchen area and offered his father a seat at the table. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, please," his father responded as he took a seat at the small kitchen table. "I spoke to your mother, and I've contacted the bank and lawyer. You will no longer have issues with your mother, your account, or her attempt to contest Ellie's will."
Matt smiled softly at his father's use of Eleanor's nickname. He hadn't heard it since he was a child.
"Thank you, Dad," Matt said, handing his father a cup of fresh coffee then taking the seat opposite his dad.
"I'm sorry, Son," he said before taking a sip.
"You don't need to apologize for Mom. She's the one who should be apologizing."
Matt's father let out a quiet huff. "I think we both know that is highly unlikely."
Matt nodded again, unsure of what this conversation would entail. He couldn't recall ever sitting down with his father alone like this.
"I meant I was sorry for not being there for you during all this."
Matt tried to swallow past the emotions tightening his throat. All this potentially encompassed so much and Matt didn't know exactly what his father was referring to. He had so many questions, but there was one that stung the most.
"Why didn't you visit me in prison, Dad?"
"You didn't want me to visit."
"You didn't even try, you…what did you say?" Matt asked when his father's words finally sunk in.
"I was told you didn't want me to visit. That you were embarrassed and felt it would be too painful to see me," his father admitted quietly as he outlined the rim of the mug with the tip of his finger.
"Who told you that?" Matt asked before the realization felt like a stab through his chest. "Mom, right?"
Matt's father nodded.
"She lied. I never said that. I would have loved to have had you visit me those years."
Matt's father ran his fingers through his hair, just as Matt did when he was nervous, frustrated, or trying to search for the right words.
"I'm sorry. I should have suspected. I guess I've always tried to see the positive and hoped she would change."
"She hated me being in prison. She's told me a few times how I'm dragging the family name through the dirt," Matt finished quietly, mirroring his father's tone.
"You are doing no such thing."
"Sometimes I feel as if I've failed you and Mom somehow."
Matt's father shook his head. "You haven't failed me or your mother at all. Regardless of what she's told you, you have nothing to be ashamed of."
Matt couldn't stop the rush of words, not sure when he'd have another chance to speak candidly with his father. "Dad, it's not just prison. The other night at dinner, when I finally told you and Mom I was gay. Mom was so angry. And you…you didn't say anything. So I know—"
"I was upset."
"I know," Matt said quietly, trying to hold back the hurt.
"I was upset with myself."
Matt huffed a painful laugh. "Why? Because you think it's your fault as a parent because I'm gay? It doesn't work that way, Dad."
Matt's father glanced at him with disbelief, then quickly looked away. "I thought I failed you as a father. Not because you're gay but because you felt a need to wait so long to tell us. I can't imagine you just figured out your preference that night." His father looked up sheepishly.
Matt smiled. "Um, no, Dad. I've known for quite some time."
"I should have said something that night to you. But my mind wandered and all I could focus on was trying to figure out where I went wrong. At what point did everything change where you felt you couldn't come to me to speak to me about this," his father said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I've been a horrible father."
"You're not a horrible father, Dad," Matt said, reaching out and placing a hand on his father's shoulder.
"I just wanted to make sure you always had the best growing up. I never wanted you to have to struggle, so I focused my efforts on making sure the family business did well so you, Alex, and your mother would have everything you needed or wanted. I heard my dad tell me too many stories of how his great-grandfather struggled growing up."
"Dad, you're not going to tell me he went uphill, in the snow—"
"Barefoot, of course, to avoid wearing out the soles of his shoes."
"Really?" Matt asked in disbelief.
This time, Matt's father extended his hand and placed it on Matt's shoulder. "I'm kidding, Son."
"Oh," Matt said as a flush of heat colored his face. "Julian teases me, tells me I'm a little slow sometimes with the punch line."
"I don't think you had a chance for many jokes growing up. I'm sorry about that. Where is your young man?"
"He's upstairs, rushing to try and complete everything before our deadline."
"He has a strong yet caring nature," he said in his quiet tone as he slowly spun his coffee mug. "He clearly loves you. I was rather impressed with the way he stood up to your mother. Not many would dare do that."
Matt blinked at his father, not sure what to respond. "Alex told me Mom was upset about it."
"Upset doesn't quite sum it up," he said softly, a ghost of a smile hinted in his expression. He was pensive, most likely gathering his thoughts and Matt felt it best to not interrupt. "I'm sorry."
"Dad, I think I'm going to ban that word from this home."
Matt's father looked up, confusion coloring his expression.
"Julian hates that word."
"It is a horrible word that some think can wipe away so much pain. I guess that's what I'm trying to do now by saying it, but I don't know what else to say to you. I didn't want to run the company but I didn't have much of a choice. After your grandfather died, I had to take it over. You were only two, maybe three. I've spent so many years focusing on the company and what I felt you needed, what your brother needed, and your mother…" He shook his head. "I was wrong, and I missed so much. It feels as if you grew up in a blink of an eye and I wasn't a part of that. How did that happen?"
Matt had to look away from the lost look on his father's face. He hadn't ever seen him like this. His father was the rock of the family, the quiet strength, the reliable one. Matt pulled at a stray string on his frayed jeans. "Do you realize this is the longest conversation we've had?"
"And you still want me to believe I haven't failed you?" his father said, rubbing his forehead.
"Dad—"
"What do you know about me?"
"Excuse me?" Matt asked, thrown off by the change in topic.
"Aside from working endless hours, what do you know about me?"
Matt was thoughtful, trying to string together what he wanted to say. "You're strong, in your quiet way. I don't think I've ever seen you angry except for this morning with Mom when you raised your voice. You've never done that."
His father pursed his lips and nodded. "Do you know I have a hobby?"
Matt smiled. "I didn't think you had time for a hobby. You're always working so much."
His father drank the last bit of coffee in his cup before continuing. "That's part of the problem. It seems as if I work so much, I think the last time I actually took some time to do anything was while my father was still alive."
"What was your hobby?" Matt asked curiously.
"Restoring cars. I was working on a beautiful '69 Camaro when Dad passed."
"I didn't know that," Matt smiled sadly, realizing he didn't really know much about his father at all.
"How could you? I've worked almost your entire life nonstop. We've never even taken the time out for a vacation. All this that happened, it's all my fault," he said firmly.
"Dad, stop—"
"No, let me finish please. I worked too many hours to dedicate any time to actually being your father. Spending time with you and Alex was important and I didn't make the time to do that. Alex then started drinking and got out of control, and I thought he'd recover from that. I thought it was just a phase. I tried to write off as many things as I could, hoping to buy him a little time to give him another chance just so he could get himself back on track again. All I ended up doing was making it easier for him to continue his downward spiral. He turned to you, followed you when you left the company. You were the steady one, the one I never had to worry about. Then I find out you were arrested. For a split second, I questioned whether you could do something like this. I'll never forgive myself for doubting you."
"Dad, I was guilty," Matt admitted.
"Son—"
"No, Dad, now you listen," Matt said fiercely. "I was guilty. Alex worked under me and it was my responsibility to make sure everything was right. I was too self-involved and didn't see things wrong that were clearly screaming for attention. If I had paid attention, done my job, and been the big brother Alex sought and needed, everything could have been avoided. So when everything happened, I went back and altered his signatures to mine on the original paperwork. He was too young and it was ultimately my responsibility."
Matt's father visibly deflated. He silently toyed with the coffee mug with a look of concentration. At that moment, Matt had a flash of regret at having revealed the truth of what he had done. Only a handful of people knew he had altered the paperwork—Alex, Sam, Lindy, and Julian—and the thought of his father's disappointment weighed heavily on his heart. He had made a little bit of progress with his father, baby steps, but now, he felt as if he'd taken twenty steps backward.
His dad finally shook his head. "We're more alike than you may realize. We feel responsible for everything and everyone and are forever guilt-ridden if something doesn't go as planned."
Matt sighed with relief.
"I want to sell my portion of the business," his father began. "Pass it along to an investor or the rest of the board if they wish. I'm not getting any younger and so much has happened in the last few years, I need to make a change."
"Are you okay?" Matt asked quickly.
"I have high blood pressure and I'm on medication. I'm fine now, but your grandfather and his father passed away from heart attacks. I'd like to try stepping back for a bit so I can see my children happy and try to enjoy life a little."
"I'm sure Mom isn't thrilled about this. I think she enjoys the lifestyle that comes with the status," Matt said, knowing how fiercely protective his mother was about money and all the perks that came with it, but he couldn't contain the worry for his father's health in his tone.
"The company has done well and we have sufficient savings to support ourselves without issue. There's even enough for you and Alex set aside," his father said before nearing as if whispering a secret. "Your mother doesn't know that."
Matt laughed at his father's casualness. "You always made us work for our money."
"There's a certain sense of responsibility that comes from working and being independent. I didn't want to take that away from you or your brother," his father said with the fire of protectiveness burning in his pale gray eyes.
"I dreaded having to take over the company someday," Matt quietly admitted.
"I know, and so did your brother. I know how it feels to be forced to take over a company you don't want. It's too much of a responsibility to ensure hundreds of employees and their families are taken care of and it's a huge weight for someone like you and me because we seem to take things to heart more than most. The two of you realized that in your own way and wanted out. I didn't have that choice, but I want to make sure that choice is never taken from the two of you."
"Thank you, Dad."
"Don't thank me just yet," he said with a hint of a smile. "We're fine but I'll have to sell the house and the cars. Cut back a bit to ensure we have enough for our remaining years. So I can't keep contributing to the fund I set aside for you and your brother, but—"
"Dad, I don't want it. You use it to take care of yourself and—"
Matt's father placed a hand on Matt's to stop him. "I have set aside money for the both of you, period. It's modest, but enough to help you with whatever you decide to do with your life. That is not subject for discussion nor is it something your mother will ever touch. If you choose to not use the money for yourself, then invest it in expanding on more houses such as this one to help others. That is up to you. I had hoped to leave it as part of your inheritance, but after thinking about things more carefully, I don't want either of you to wait until I'm dead and have to worry about fighting with your mother for anything that is rightfully yours."
"Dad—"
"Matthew, please. Don't argue with me on this. Your brother didn't want the money either when I spoke to him of this earlier today. Seems the independence of working on your own was a lesson learned rather firmly by the both of you," he said with a gentle grin filled with affection.
Matt smiled. "I'm proud of Alex," he said in response.
"I'm proud of him as well. It's great to see him finally putting his life in order. And Lindy seems strong enough to make sure he doesn't stumble along the way."
"Yes, she is. She's one of the few people who know what really happened with the paperwork and she's intensely protective of him."
His father nodded then fiddled with the handle of the mug as he spoke. "So…tell me more about your halfway house."
Matt beamed, always excited to talk about the house. "It's a place of second chance. Sometimes, when people get out of prison, they have a hard time getting back on their feet, whether it be money, family, or whatever the reason. We want it to be welcoming, like a home should be so they feel comfortable enough to take that chance and take charge of their life."
"You invested your aunt's inheritance and the sale of your condo into this place?" His father asked without condescension in his voice.
"Yes. I used the inheritance to buy the building and the money from the sale of the condo has been used for the renovations." Warmth flooded him as he realized the pride he felt in the home he and Julian had taken a year to build.
"I've squeezed every cent of value possible. You should have seen it before the work started. Every contractor avoided the house except for Julian. It's taken time, but we are so close to being there." He paused for a second, considering some of the memories that this house now held—of pizza, kisses, long showers, and so much love.
"I'm proud of you, Matt."
Matt looked up and blinked, trying to balance the shock and emotion of those few simple words. He asked, hesitantly, his voice tight with emotion, "Would you like to see what we've done?"
His dad moved to place the mug in the tiny makeshift sink. "I would love to. I would also like to speak to Julian. I feel I owe him an apology or two and much gratitude."
Matt led his father through the house, listening to each comment his father made from room to room. He mentioned flooring in Matt's old office, the painting in the hall, and the color choices for the various rooms. When they went up to the second floor and found Julian on all fours working on installing the last of the wood flooring with his ass in the air, the tension in the room was palpable. Suddenly his dad was quiet, and Julian stood, using the wall for balance. He rubbed dusty hands on his worn jeans and hesitated.
Matt wasn't sure exactly what to say. His dad's expression was serious, Julian's was wary. He saw Julian rubbing his leather cuff, as he usually did when he was anxious. He had probably heard some of the conversation and would be aware it wasn't a shouting match but a civilized discussion. Finally both men independently decided they needed to start again. They extended hands and shook warmly.
"Sir," Julian said.
"Call me Mitch," Matt's father responded quickly. "This is wonderful work. The house looks very welcoming."
"A few more weeks, a couple of inspections, and an interview, then we're open for business." The affection in Julian's voice for their new home was as obvious as the softening of his expression.
Standing here, the three of them, Matt tried to focus on the house and what remained to be finished. He didn't want to think about his mother or what she had tried to do. After a lifetime of trying to be the ideal son, he finally realized it just didn't matter to his mother. Even while he was in prison, she had tried to control who came to see him. He didn't want to think about all the times his dad may have come to visit him and how much that would have meant to him. Maybe his dad having a sit-down with her and discussing his plans for the company would change things. Only time would tell.
Julian was right. A few more weeks and everything was going to begin. They may well have avoided having money taken from them but the deadlines alone left more than enough to worry about.
He had zoned out of the conversation. When he rejoined reality, he heard his dad and Julian still talking but the conversation had somehow transitioned into cars, engines, and all kinds of other automotive grease and dirt related things Matt didn't care about. He watched as his dad and Julian had a casual discussion, the tension no longer existed. He couldn't help but smile as he noticed the ease with which they laughed and spoke.
It was both refreshing and comforting, definitely not what he had been used to with his family.
It was nice.
* * * *
"Earth to Matt?" Julian teased with a smile. He'd noticed Matt had spaced out somewhere during the debate between carburetor versus fuel injection. Julian knew Mitch's visit was a big deal to Matt, he just hoped their discussion in the kitchen was a step in the right direction.
"I'm here." Matt grinned. "Sorry, Dad, I'm not into cars," he confessed.
Mitch and Julian gasped in mock offense then laughed. Matt chuckled and shook his head.
"Well, I've got to go into the office and review some papers," Mitch said to Matt, before turning to Julian. "It was a pleasure chatting with you." He shook Julian's hand again. "You guys are doing something really good here."
He turned to Matt and said, "I'm so proud of you, Son." His father then pulled him into an embrace.
Matt was obviously shocked but his hands slowly rose in response to the hug. He then screwed his eyes shut and gripped his father's shoulders. When Mitch finally released him, Matt was doing his deer in headlights look. Julian and Matt followed him as he walked out of the room then made his way down the stairs.
He drove away with a final wave good-bye to them as they stood by the window.
Matt had not said another word.
"Was that the first time he hugged you like that?" Julian tentatively asked.
Matt simply nodded.
Julian wrapped his arms around Matt from behind.
"Was that the first time he said he was proud of you?" Julian whispered as he rested his chin on Matt's shoulder.
"Second time," Matt responded hoarsely. "First was in the kitchen," he added quietly.
Julian realized that all the money Matt may have had growing up didn't matter as much as those few spoken words. Julian may not have had much of a father in that sonofabitch sperm donor of his, but Julian did have a mother who was always there to love, guide, and comfort him when needed and who always told him how proud she was whenever he did well at anything, regardless of how small.
Matt hadn't had that growing up.
He quickly turned in Julian's embrace and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of Julian's neck.
They stood there for a while just holding each other.
Julian should go back to work and try to meet the insane deadline that was creeping up on them, but he didn't care. Being the person Matt turned to for comfort and support was all that mattered.