He rests his forearm on the steering wheel and glances over at me. "Yes."

"That's a shame. If you've been with Mom all this time thinking that you can replace me and take my place in her will—you've chosen the wrong girl. You've seen where we live, right? All that's left for me when she's gone is that Persian rug."

"Dammit," he mocks. "All that sex for nothing."

I gag. "That's gross, Mark. Don't bring that shit up again."

His head throws back in laughter just as he pulls into his street. He parks in front of his house and kills the engine.

"What are we doing here?" I ask, confused. I've only been here a handful of times since they started dating. I heard them once, arguing because he wanted us to move in with him. His house was a lot bigger. Not Lucy's house big, but much bigger than our old, tiny townhouse. Mom told him she didn't want me to have the instability. He lived further out of town, so I'd have to catch a bus to school. But it wasn't just that. She also said that she worked hard to build a home for us since Dad left, and she didn't want it to all be for nothing. He understood, but I have a feeling it wasn't the last time he asked her.

"One," Marks says, facing me. "Don't talk shit about your mom. I'm with her because I love the shit out of her. You should know what that feels like. You have Lucy, and to be honest, I'm kind of jealous that you found her so young. I wish I'd found your mom first. I wish I was the one you'd call Da—" he cuts himself off.

I blow out a nervous breath. It's rare we have serious conversations. Squirming in my seat, I wait for him to speak. All the words I wish I could say are stuck in my throat.

"Second," he sighs, then shakes his head. "Never mind. Let me just show you."

He presses the remote for the garage door and steps out of the car.

I follow him into the garage and wait while he turns on the lights. The only thing here is a car, but it's covered. He glimpses at me quickly before slowly lifting the cover.

My eyes bug out of my head. "Holy shit! Is this a—"

"Delorean? Yup."

"Holy shit!" I walk a full circle around the car. "Holy shit!" I'm so giddy I can't even contain it. "What?" I look up at him. "I'm so confused right now. Did you rent it?"

He laughs quietly. "No." Scratching the back of his head, he continues, "I actually bought it a year ago." He pulls a set of keys off a hook on the wall. "I've been building it slowly, making some modifications. The last part came in a few days ago." He presses a button on the keyless remote.

I watch in awe as the two doors rise. "Hydraulic doors!" I shout.

He laughs again. "Pretty cool, huh?"

I nod, too excited to speak.

"Take a seat."

I hesitate a moment, not sure that I want to touch and ruin anything, but then sense kicks in. "It's a fucking Delorean!"

I sit in the driver's seat and hold the steering wheel, sure that my mouth is hanging open in shock. I wait for him to sit in the passenger’s seat before turning to him. "How come you've never driven it over?"

"Because," he starts, his voice shaky.

I take in the interior of the car and fiddle with the buttons on the dash.

"Cameron."

I look up to see him watching me.

"I haven't driven it yet."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's not mine, Cam." He holds up the keys between us. "It's yours."

My breath catches on a gasp. I don't speak. I don't move. I don't blink.

He scratches his head again. "I got it and wanted to give it to you for your sixteenth birthday, but you got Filmore, which is fine, because it wasn't a hundred percent ready. Then I was going to wait and give it to you as a graduation present, but it's kind of perfect timing. Filmore's in heaven now and it's finally ready for you."

I release the breath, still not fully understanding what's happening. "Does Mom know?"

"Of course. I made sure to run it by her. She thinks I'm crazy, but even still, I think if she didn't approve I still would've done it."

"Why?"

He shrugs and looks away. "I don't know. I mean, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you deserve something like this. I think your dad's kind of an ass for not seeing that, and not appreciating you. If I were your dad, I'd be so proud of the way you turned out. Your mom always says how she wishes she could give you more—"

I open my mouth to interrupt but he speaks before I can get a word in.

"That's the thing, Cam. You never ask for more than what's given. You understand and appreciate everything you have. Your mom—she never has to worry about you. You could have turned out a lot worse. Hell, you could have turned out like me." He laughs to himself, but I'm drowning in too many emotions to have a reaction. "I mean... I'd like to think that I had something to do with that—the way you turned out. Whether it's legal or not—to me, you're my son. And this is something I wanted to do." He blows out a heavy breath and stares out the windshield.

I look down at the keys in my hand.

We sit in comfortable silence as I let his words replay in my head. Then I say something that I've been too ashamed to admit to anyone but myself. "I wish you were my dad, too."