by Shari Low
Agnetha knew the answer to that, but this wasn’t the time to volunteer it. Celeste always went for the guy with the edge, with the glint of trouble in his eye, the one with a thirst for danger and excitement that matched hers. It was like two positive electrodes meeting – they created sparks but burnt out really quickly. Case in point, the hunky UCLA football player who was now beckoning her back into the pool.
Agnetha grabbed the chance to go for an answer to Celeste’s question that didn’t cut to the core of her psychologic make-up. ‘Maybe because you’re blinded by a fine set of pecs and an arse like two rugby balls in a windsock?’
Celeste’s cackle was contagious. ‘You’re so right. And I do believe that those pecs are demanding attention.’ She took another long drag of her cigarette, then stubbed it out and climbed off the sunlounger, her glorious long tanned legs rippling as she moved. She took a step, then suddenly stopped, turned back, leaned down and kissed Agnetha on the cheek, ‘I love you, Agnetha Sanders. Promise me it’ll always be you and me against the world.’
The unaccustomed show of vulnerability made Agnetha’s reply catch in her throat. ‘Of course it will.’
A wide smile broke across Celeste’s beautiful face, before she turned and dived right over Aaron’s head into the pool, only surfacing when she’d located the rugby ball arse of her new friend.
Agnetha followed her to the pool edge, slipping into the cool blue water beside Aaron, feeling her body temperature cool but her heart heat up as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her lips found his. This was heaven.
Ignoring the shrieks and splashes of the new game of water polo that had broken out at the other end of the pool, she nuzzled into his neck and playfully bit his ear. ‘Hey, handsome. What were you thinking all alone in here?’
His sigh threw her. Not what she was expecting. Had he changed his mind already? Had the cool water shocked him back to his senses? Bollocks. It had been so good while it lasted, but this had to be the fastest heartbreak in history.
His arms tightened around her. ‘I’m thinking I want you to stay here.’
Oh, thank God. He was still in this. His words erased the fracture line that had just formed on her heart, but at the same time they opened a new one caused by the thought of leaving him.
‘I know, me too. Maybe we can just extend our reservations here indefinitely and hide from the world. We could do a John and Yoko and stay in bed for weeks.’
‘Aggs, I’m serious.’ Wow. He actually was. This was a new look for him – furrowed brow, jaw tight with tension. ‘I meant what I said about never feeling this way before and I can’t stand the thought of you leaving. I want you to stay.’
‘Where?’ It could have been the heat, the change of mood, or the two pina coladas she’d already knocked back, but Aggs wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying.
‘Here. Or, I mean, in LA. With me.’
Wow, this was big. Too big. He wanted her to move here? A storm of thoughts kicked up in her head. She had a life back in Scotland, a family there. And, okay, it wasn’t like her mum and dad couldn’t live without her, but for all she loved to travel, she adored her family and had never pictured a life where she didn’t see them or speak to them every day. Since she got here, she’d only been calling them once a week because it was so expensive. And, no, she didn’t have a full time job back in the UK, but that was her choice and she loved the set up she had, working alongside her dad some days, out on temp jobs on other days. Chatting to her mum in the kitchen before she went to bed every night. Mum and Dad had moved into Gran and Grandad’s flat above the café, so that they could take care of the grandparents as they got older, and now that they’d both passed away in the last couple of years it was just the three of them. Could she really leave them behind?
A familiar squeal permeated her thoughts and she turned to see Celeste being thrown up and then tumbling in mid-air, only being caught by the muscular arms of the UCLA guy a fraction of a second before she hit the water. The squeal turned to laughter and then fell silent as Celeste went in for a kiss and they were suddenly locked in a long, passionate snog.
Hadn’t she just promised Celeste that it was them against the world? How was she going to carry out that promise from thousands of miles away?
Yet…
The thought of leaving this man made her heart clench. They had something. More than something. Sure, it had been quick, but she didn’t doubt how she felt for a second. This was it. The love of her life. Or maybe technically it was the third or fourth, but this was the first real one, the first man that made her feel the way she did now, that she could only breathe when he was beside her. In three months, he’d become her life-support system, her oxygen, and she couldn’t switch that off.
Only a tug of pain made her realise she was biting her bottom lip.
‘I don’t want to leave either.’ As each word rolled off her tongue, she knew it was true. ‘But I have to go, because my visa runs out the day after our flight leaves.’ They’d already extended their trip as long as their ninety day tourist visa would allow.
It was hopeless. She couldn’t stay. Without a visa, she’d be here illegally. She couldn’t work. She couldn’t support herself. And she couldn’t go back to visit her mum and dad, because if she left, she wouldn’t get back into the country.
‘Maybe I can go home, and then come back when I’ve saved again…’
He shook his head. ‘Long-distance relationship?’ He sighed. ‘I love you. I want to wake up in the morning and see your face lying next to me.’
‘I do too, but…’
He lifted her up so she was sitting on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water, his arms leaning on her thighs as he looked up at her.
‘No buts. If we could find a way that you can stay, would you do it?’
Would she? Would she really leave her whole life for a guy that she’d only known for eighty-five days?
A burst of emotion answered for her. ‘Yes. Yes, I would.’
12
Hope
Hope indicated and turned left into the street outside the Malmaison Hotel, then braked sharply to avoid a bright yellow Maserati that screeched to a halt right in front of her. Idiot. Did he think a car like that was a licence to drive like a tit?
She stopped herself from vocalising that thought. Probably not the best impression to give her new dad. Her dad. It was surreal to even think of him as her father, never mind call him Dad. She wasn’t sure that would ever come naturally.
‘Good catch there,’ her passenger whistled. ‘Man, everything feels strange when you’re driving on the wrong side of the road.’
‘Eh, I think you’ll find this is the right side of the road. It’s you lot that have it wrong.’
That made him laugh, a gorgeous low chuckle that Hope knew she could listen to all day.
She turned left at the end of the road, then immediately pulled into a free space just along from the entrance to the Dakota hotel, a modern charcoal grey stone and glass building that was just off the square, on West Regent Street.
She’d wondered if the half-hour journey from Glasgow Airport would be awkward, but it hadn’t been at all. Aaron had made sure of that by breaking the ice as soon as they’d got into the car in the airport parking lot. He’d turned to face her, smiled as he put out his hand. ‘I think we missed the introduction bit back there in the terminal. I’m Aaron Ward.’
Hope had automatically returned his grin. ‘Hope McTeer.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Hope McTeer. I can’t tell you how much I mean that.’
To her surprise, she’d noticed that his eyes had misted over. Wow. The juxtaposition between his muscular, macho appearance and the tears that were threatening to fall got her right in the feels.
‘And I need you to know right off the bat that I’m so, so sorry I’m only getting to tell you this now. I had no idea.’ His voice had been so emotional, Hope knew that he meant every word.
‘Me too.
But we got here. That’s all that matters.’ Hope had taken a deep breath to steady herself. Don’t cry. Do not cry. She had a horrible feeling that if she started, it would unblock a dam that might never stop flowing. Hold it together. You’ve got this.
Aaron had cleared his throat. ‘I’m not usually a crier, but it’s not every day that I find my daughter.’
‘Likewise. I can’t wait to find out what other genes I got from you.’
On the centre console between the two seats, his hand had fallen on hers and Hope had realised that they were just grinning inanely at each other, drinking in the moment, memorising every curve and line of each other’s faces.
Hope had broken the spell first. ‘Okay, so we’d better move otherwise I’ll have to sell a kidney to get out of this car park because it’s extortionate. Shall we go to your hotel and you can ditch your stuff and then maybe we could grab lunch? Are you hungry?’ He’d asked about hotels when he’d emailed her about his flights, and she’d suggested the Dakota. She’d been at a medical conference there and it had looked impressive and modern, but not over-the-top grand. She wasn’t sure what his style would be, so she figured that was a safe bet.
‘I could eat. Sounds like a plan to me. And how about we just chat about the small stuff on the way there and save the big stuff for when we’re sitting across from each other and we can talk properly?’
Hope had nodded. Thank God. It wasn’t that she doubted her driving, but she wanted to concentrate on every word he had to say, and if there were any shocks, she didn’t want to be veering across the M8 into the path of an articulated lorry. It would obviously be preferable not to accidentally kill her father on the day that they finally met. ‘I just need to text my sister first, otherwise there’s every chance a police helicopter will suddenly appear over us at some point. She’s a bit overprotective.’
‘I like that,’ he’d replied warmly.
Hope had fired off a text.
Still alive. On way to his hotel. No need for pepper spray as yet. Xx
The reply had been instant.
I NEED DETAILS!!!!! XX
* * *
Soon. About to drive. Will call when I can. xx
* * *
AAAAAAARGH!!!!! (also, keep pepper spray handy – serial killers are always charming at the start) xx
Hope had slipped her phone into the side pocket on the door, then pulled out of the space and drove them, with very deliberate concentration, out of the car park.
They’d made it on to the motorway and the conversation had flowed easily as they’d chatted about surface stuff, just as they’d agreed. Hope had racked her brain to come up with questions that didn’t delve deep into his relationships and past – plenty of time for that later. Instead, she’d stuck to geography, work and hobbies. He’d always lived in LA. He was in construction. Family business that he and his brother had taken over when he was in his late twenties. Hope didn’t ask if that meant his father had passed away, realising that he was her grandfather too. That was too close to an emotional question, so she’d skipped back on to lighter stuff. No, he wasn’t much of a fan of celebrity haunts, preferring to lay low at his house in Santa Monica. Yes, it was at the beach. And, yes, he surfed. Hope had a vague thought that a beach house in LA must be mega-expensive, but it drifted away as quickly as it came. No, he’d never been to Glasgow. In fact, he hadn’t travelled to Europe at all. He tended to go to Canada for his holidays – up to Vancouver Island – or he’d do a road trip up the west coast to Monterey or San Francisco. Good vibes there, he said.
It wasn’t all one way traffic though. He was equally as inquisitive about her life, and they’d slipped into asking alternate questions. He’d seemed interested to learn that she had an adoptive sister and that Maisie was twenty-four and an actress and that her adoptive parents were teachers. She’d been to America a couple of times, but only to Disney World and Epcot in Florida, never the West Coast. She was studying to be a doctor and working part time in a hospital and yes, it was hard, but it was everything she’d always known it would be. And, no, that left zero time for relationships, so she wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment. Oh, and yes, it did rain a lot here and this was an unseasonably warm day for May.
The chat had ebbed and flowed and got them all the way into the city, right up to the point where they had almost rear-ended that bright yellow Maserati.
‘Home sweet home,’ Hope chirped when they reached the entrance to the Dakota, just round the corner from the Malmaison and the Blythswood Square Hotel.
A very efficient receptionist checked him in. ‘Would you like me to book you a table for lunch in the restaurant, sir?’
Aaron turned questioningly to Hope.
‘Sure,’ she nodded, glad of the suggestion. The less she had to think about the logistics of today, the more she could take in everything else.
‘I’ll just go up and dump my stuff and get a quick change. Do you want to come up or wait here?’
A tug of awkwardness caused her to pause. Was it too familiar to go to his room? Would it be weird? In the end, she decided she didn’t care. If this was the father she’d grown up with she wouldn’t hesitate, so why treat her biological dad differently?
Her casual shrug made it seem like it was no big deal. ‘I’ll come up – that way you don’t need to rush.’
They made more small talk as they went upstairs in the lift. He’d booked a one bedroom suite with a separate living space, a riot of greys, purples and browns that shouldn’t work together but somehow did. She sat on the L-shaped leather sofa while he had a quick shower and changed. She flicked the TV on, more for the noise rather than because she wanted to watch something. Sitting there waiting for him should feel strange, she decided. Maybe even uncomfortable. But, oddly, it really didn’t.
He was ready in fifteen minutes, charcoal jeans this time and a white T-shirt. There was no need for a jacket, so the only things he picked up were his phone and wallet. Hope had a thought. He hadn’t called or texted anyone to say he’d landed. Did he not have anyone who was waiting for news? Or perhaps he did it on his way through baggage before he reached her? So many questions, but she didn’t want to bombard him with them all at once.
There was a lively buzz in the busy restaurant, mostly, Hope guessed, tourists in town for a concert or an exhibition. It was a relief when they were shown to a corner table, out of earshot of the other diners. They were going to be having the kind of conversation that she wasn’t comfortable with anyone else overhearing, so it was perfect. For a moment she wondered if they should have had their first proper chat in private in his room, but this seemed more relaxed. Less pressure.
She was touched when he pulled her chair out for her before taking his own.
‘Cool place,’ he said, as he glanced around the room at the eclectic combination of dark exposed brick walls, solid wood tables, and leather studded chairs, mixed with opaque glass accents and rustic art on the walls.
Aaron ordered a steak, Hope went for a monkfish curry that, once again, she was fairly sure she wouldn’t be able to eat. He’d put her at ease, but she still didn’t think that the butterflies in her stomach had calmed enough to accept incoming nutrition.
‘Do you mind if I have a beer?’ he asked.
‘Of course not. I’ll have a glass of wine, if that’s how it’s going down,’ she told him, laughing. Even if this was just a random guy she’d met by chance, she already had the feeling that she’d like him.
As the waiter discussed the beer and wine choices and then jotted down their orders, Hope wondered what the server was thinking. Older guy, younger woman. Did he think they were a couple? Or did he realise they were father and daughter?
It was all still so surreal that she almost wanted to shout it out to help it sink in. That’s my father, she wanted to yell. My biological dad. This guy. Right here. I found him. And yes, it still feels bizarre to call him that.
When their drinks arrived, he held up his beer. ‘To new discoveri
es,’ he offered warmly.
‘New discoveries. I like that.’ Hope clinked her glass against his beer bottle, then took a sip, resisting the urge to build up a bit of Dutch courage by downing it in one. It wouldn’t do for him to think he’d fathered a wild child. Instead, she put the goblet back on the table, and went with what she hoped was a gentle opening. ‘So, are you married? Do you have kids?’
Aaron took a sip of his beer and Hope guessed that this wasn’t going to be straightforward. ‘I was married for fifteen years, divorced a couple of years ago. No big drama. My ex-wife, Jen, is a great lady, but we just grew apart, wanted different lives. We have two boys. Mack and Sonny. They’re sixteen and fifteen and already taller than me and smarter than me.’
Hope loved the self-deprecating way he told the story, as well as the respect he showed for his ex-wife and the way his face lit up when he mentioned his boys. Would that happen in future when he talked about her?
‘Wow. I have brothers. Well, half-brothers. Did you tell them about me?’
He nodded. ‘The night before I came. I ain’t gonna lie, they were pretty shocked, but pretty excited too. They were both up for coming along for the ride. Although, that might just have been an excuse for getting out of school.’ He laughed, obviously remembering something else. ‘Mack also loved the opportunity to scold me for getting a girl pregnant. He pretty much repeated word for word the contraception conversation I’ve been having with them for the last couple of years. The two of them thought it was hilarious.’
Was this it? Was this the opening to ask about her mum? No. Not yet. Too soon. She wasn’t ready. And if it was a painful memory for him, it might make him defensive or uncomfortable. Best to stick to neutral territory for now.