She laughed loudly and swatted his thigh. “You’re a brat.”
Connor lifted one shoulder and did his best to smirk casually as he stared at the red lights in front of them. “Yeah, but that’s what you get for trying to get me to talk about my feelings.”
“My apologies,” she said, equally playful as the light changed, and she slowly accelerated, “I sometimes forget that you’re a big, mean ol’ bear and not just a big softie.”
A half-smile tugged one corner of his mouth, and he hid it behind his hand. “I ain’t no fuckin’ softie.”
“Rawr,” Liza growled, upper lip curling like Elvis. “I’m not a fuckin’ softie.Grr…I have no fuckin’ feelings.”
He chuckled in spite of himself and managed to restrain the content sigh that attempted to eke its way out. “You’re fuckin’ great, Liza. I really fuckin’ love you.”
She pealed with laughter. “I really fuckin’ love you, too.”
The sun was beginning to set over the Mississippi as they rolled into Algiers Point and, even though they were teasing each other in an attempt to lighten an atmosphere that threatened to turn too heavy, too quickly, a weight seemed to lift from Connor’s shoulders. Playful teasing or not, it felt damn good to just be able to say it again.
25
Algiers Point, New Orleans
“So I met with Oscar again this week,” Scott said, settling down into the sofa across from the chairs where Connor and Liza sat after dinner. He leaned back and placed his hands behind his head. “I’ll tell you what, I’ve heard some sad stories over the years, and his is up there with the worst.”
Liza winced as her heart gave a pinch. Her mind suddenly recalled what Connor’s father had told her just the other weekend. “It’s definitely one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard.” She picked up her glass of wine off the coffee table and sat back in her chair. “But he’s already climbing the charts faster than anyone else in the history of the label. He’s going to see amazing success, and I believe longevity. It’s no comparison to what he’s lost, but it’s something.”
“Yeah, least he won’t just be sitting in his house all lonely anymore,” Connor said, tugging at his jeans before he stood up and crossed the room to a hutch that held liquor bottles and glasses. He opened the door, grabbed a glass, and gestured at Scott with it. “Drink?”
Scott shook his head and then gave a shit-eating grin. “You’re not worried about your old man swinging by again while you’re all schnockered?”
Connor’s brow pulled low. “When did he come by?”
Liza shifted slightly in the opposite direction, hoping the good-natured jab would stay just that and not evolve into a lengthy conversation.
“Last weekend.” Scott grimaced. “Sounded like you two were having it out over there. I almost came by, but I knew he wasn’t going to hurt you, so I figured y’all could just work it out.”
“Ohshit.”Connor poured himself a drink. “I don’t remember any of that.”
Scott held out his palm as if to say,see?“And that’s exactly why he was so pissed.”
Connor replaced the liquor and closed the hutch. “He needs to stay over there on his street and let me handle my own damn self.”
Scott shrugged. “You can’t blame him for worrying.”
“He’s not worried.” Connor sat and took a long pull from his drink. “He’s pissed that I’m a failure.”
“You’re not though, Connor.” Liza couldn’t help jumping in. “I don’t think anyone could point to anything in your life that even looks like failure.”
Connor raised his glass at her. “Well, apparently I drink too much, and that means I don’t give a fuck about—” He stopped as though that were the natural conclusion to his statement, and then slumped back in the chair. He balanced the glass on his knee and rubbed his chin with his opposite hand.
“It’s just a dad thing,” Scott said. “I get it. He wants the best for you, but he’s also got very specific standards for what that means.”
“Like following in his damn footsteps wasn’t enough.” Connor wagged his finger. “No room for error. Go from spending your days killing people and trying to keep them from killing you to living in a quiet, uneventful world surrounded by people whose biggest problem is whether or not the petunias they just planted are gonna bloom all summer. And just fit in to that. Forget what happened. Forget what you saw. Forget what you did.” He sat low in the chair and raised his glass toward Scott. “You’re a machine. Fall in.”
“Well, remember he’s been through shit, too.” Scott leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “He lived through all that overseas for decades, and then lest we forget K.”
Connor laughed wryly. “Another failure of mine. Couldn’t schedule my deployment to make sure I was home for the hurricane.”
“I just mean that was one hell of a time.” Scott rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know what combat is like, but this city was as close to a war zone as anything I could imagine.”
Connor silently sipped his drink, and Scott squeezed his palms together, and Liza noticed the uncharacteristic silence of the room. The McCarthy-Latimer house was typically full of music playing from an antique record player in the corner, and Liza decided it was necessary right then.
