He looked up, clearly still annoyed but curiosity sparking in those green-gold depths.
She let go of his hand and took a long sip of her beer, trying to find some bravery so she could be open with him like he had been with her. “I didn’t struggle in the same way you did. In a lot of ways, my childhood was ideal. We didn’t have a lot of money, but my parents owned a farm, so we had space and I had a lot of brothers and sisters to play with. We were homeschooled so there was a lot of flexibility.”
Pike nodded but didn’t say anything. He was probably afraid to spook her off talking.
She picked up her butter knife, turning and turning it to give her hands something to do, the memories of her childhood rearing up and punching her in the chest. Sometimes she forgot how good things had been in those early years when her parents were heroic and infallible in her eyes. “Things were happy for a long time. But my parents had strict views on religion and life. They supported my singing career when I originally got signed to a Christian group at fifteen, but when that didn’t work out and I landed the Pop Luck gig, things became strained. They let me continue with it for a while because the family could use the money. But when I got pregnant, they told me I couldn’t come back home unless I married the father or placed the baby for adoption. I wasn’t willing to do either, and they cut me off. Just like that. Like we hadn’t had this whole life of being a family together. I moved in with my brother permanently after that.”
He grimaced. “Wow.”
“Yeah, they’re good people in many ways. I never wanted for love when I was a kid. But they’re neck deep in very old, strict beliefs that they won’t ever shake. They eventually forgave me for the premarital sex and the fact that I didn’t marry the father, because they wanted to see their grandchild. But Devon was cut out completely once he came out to them.”
Pike shook his head. “Sad.”
“I probably would’ve never talked to them again if not for Rae. I don’t want her to not know her grandparents, aunts, and uncles, so I make an effort to go up to the farm on holidays. But it’s tense and awkward. And I spend the whole time pissed because they don’t let Devon come. I mean, I can’t imagine Rae doing anything—outside of murdering someone—that would make me cut her out of my life. How does a parent do that?”
Pike took another swig of his beer, eyes stormy. “It’s fucked up. But it happens all the time. Your parents chose their beliefs over you and your brother. My mom chose her boyfriend and a nice house over her son.” He grabbed another chip. “It’s one reason why I don’t want to have kids. I don’t trust that I’d be one of the good ones.”
She tilted her head. “Why would you say that?”
Emilio served their plates, interrupting the conversation. He slid two steaming hot dishes in front of them. “Pollo en Mole Poblano, Mamá’s specialty.”
Oakley leaned over her plate and inhaled the fragrant steam, picking up some savory combination of chiles and cinnamon. Dark sauce covered bone-in chicken, and fried plantains and rice completed the dish. “This smells like hours in the kitchen.”
Emilio smiled proudly. “Days. Mamá’s sauce takes days to build up all that flavor.”
“Well, tell her I can’t wait to try it,” she said.
Emilio made sure they didn’t need anything else and then left them alone. Pike tucked into his meal as if she hadn’t asked him something right before the food had arrived.
She lifted a brow at him. “Not going to answer my question?”
He chewed his bite of chicken and gave a half-shrug. “I’d suck as a parent. My band is my life. I travel all the time. I’m a selfish fucker. And no one needs me as a role model, believe me.”
“Right. Someone who came from nothing and made his dream come true. You’re a totally lame role model.”
His lips smoothed into a straight line. “That life’s just not for me.”
“Yeah, well, I would’ve said the same thing back in the day. Music was my only true love. But sometimes life has other plans.”
She cut into her chicken and began to eat, lost in thought. When she was a teenager, she’d balked at the idea of growing up and doing the mom thing. Her mother’s whole life was her kids—taking care of them, feeding everyone, cleaning the house, home-schooling. She’d never seen the woman have an identity outside of that. Her mom didn’t seem to mind. She was one of those people whose life mission was to be a mother. But Oakley had never imagined that to be her own future. She still felt woefully unequipped most of the time with Reagan. She’d never be Super Mom. She’d never have that sparkly clean sink.
“Must’ve been terrifying to find out you were pregnant that young. I had a scare with a girl right after I finished high school and I fucking panicked. I knew then that I wasn’t meant for parenthood because all I wanted to do was run.”
“You wouldn’t have been the first guy to do it.”
“Is that what happened with Reagan’s dad?”
The delicious food turned bitter in her mouth. She stabbed a plantain with her fork and looked up. “How about we talk about this place you’re taking me to?”
He smiled, chagrined. “We’re ruining the date again, aren’t we? God, you’d think we could just shut the fuck up and talk about all the sordid things I’m going to do to you tonight.”
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“We suck.”
“Yes, there will be that. Lots of sucking.”
She laughed and threw him an are-you-twelve? look. “Seriously, what am I getting into? I read those papers I had to sign. The contracts. Seems like there’s lots of … things to try.”