Waste of Handsome (Carolina Waves #2)

by Tina Gallagher

  I looked in the rear view and shifted the car into Drive. Looking at her out of the corner of my eye, I smiled and said, “Here we go.”

  Chapter 36

  Hannah

  “How have I gone my entire life without eating one of these?” I shoved the last bite of lobster roll in my mouth.

  “I don’t know, but I’m gonna go grab you another one because I really enjoyed watching you eat that.

  I rolled my eyes and swallowed.

  He kissed my forehead and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

  As he walked away, I chuckled, thinking of something Mrs. Button always says.

  It’s sad to see him leave but so nice to watch him go.

  That statement most definitely applies to Jack. The man’s ass is seriously a work of art.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Marie Daniel, the event coordinator, appeared from somewhere behind me and sat on my side of the long bench.

  I nodded. “It’s a beautiful day and the food is amazing. You’ve put together a great event.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t take all the credit. I had a lot of help,” she said. “And honestly I’ve planned so many of these, I could do it in my sleep. As long as the weather cooperates, I’m good.”

  “Is it always adults only?”

  “This event is,” she said. “Initially we had it as a family event, but when we moved it to this location, we decided to make it twenty-one and up. It’s such a large area, it would be easy for children to run off. Plus it gives me an excuse to leave my kids at home.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink. “We host a basketball tournament that’s all ages in November, and the kids love it.”

  Jack stood across the clearing, a plate in each hand, talking to three men as they watched what appeared to be a riveting cornhole match. When we first got here, he’d spoken to pretty much everyone, and the attendees were either star struck or teased him for not playing for Boston. But now they seemed to have relaxed a little and it looked like everyone was enjoying themselves.

  Wearing khaki shorts and a blue Waves polo, he should blend in with the rest of the similarly-dressed men, but that’s not the case. Or maybe it’s just me because I thought the same thing when he wore a tuxedo for the blue-blood benefit in Boston.

  He caught me watching him and said something to the men surrounding him and walked in my direction, his eyes not leaving my face. When he reached the table, he set the plates down and sat across from me.

  “Thank you again for being here,” Marie said. “And for dealing with being surrounded by rabid Boston fans with such grace.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” he said then leaned slightly toward Marie. “And you know I grew up a rabid Boston fan, so I get it.”

  “We usually have a good turnout here, but your presence here really bumped it up.” She stood and held out her hand and shook his. “I’ll leave you two alone to finish eating.”

  We said good-bye and she left us to go check on the buffet table.

  I picked up my fork and dug into the clams he’d brought me. Elbows resting on the table, he held a buttery ear of corn with both hands.

  “Please give me fair warning before you start eating that lobster roll. I don’t want to choke on my corn,” he said, then smiled and took a big bite.

  Jack’s New England accent was slipping all over the place here, which I love. I looked down at my lobsta roll and smiled. Might was well give the man what he wants.

  “Here’s your fair warning,” I said as I picked up the roll. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  He put his nearly-eaten corn back on the plate and rested his chin on his fist.

  “Bring it on.”

  Jack

  Watching Hannah wrap her mouth around a lobster roll is better than any porno I’ve ever seen. And as if the visual isn’t stimulating enough, she keeps making soft little moans in the back of her throat every time she takes a bite.

  I kept my gaze glued to her lips, even after she was done, which is how I realized she was speaking to me, because I certainly hadn’t heard her.

  “Hmm?” I cleared my throat. “What did you say?”

  “What time do we have to leave?”

  “It’ll take us about a half hour to get there.” I glanced at my phone. “If we leave in an hour we should be good.”

  I told my dad we’d be there in time for dinner, which is at five sharp in his house. For the past couple decades, my he’s been very regimented about his meals. They happen at eight, noon, and five without fail, and I’m not going to mess with that.

  He ended up in the hospital a few months after my mother died because he basically stopped eating. By the time I graduated high school, he’d gotten himself pulled together enough to implement the schedule, which had been recommended by his doctor.

  But the not eating thing and subsequent illness freaked me out. Especially since it has been so soon after my mom died. Even years later, once I moved out to play ball, I used to call him to make sure he’d eaten something.

  I stabbed the last potato on my plate, shoved it in my mouth, and chewed clearing those thoughts from my mind. I have an hour left here to enjoy Hannah’s company and then we have the whole night and all day tomorrow to spend together. I refuse to let thoughts of my father or whatever happens at his house ruin that.

  Pulling into the driveway of my childhood home, I rolled my shoulders, trying to relax. Hannah placed her hand on my knee, and I looked over at her. She knows how much I hate coming here and also knows how much I hate myself for hating it.

  “Ready?” she asked pulling me from my thoughts.

  I nodded and opened my door, then rounded the car to open hers. She got out, holding the box of goodies Marie Daniel had insisted we take when she found out we were coming here. I had planned on bringing pizza, but my dad will enjoy this more.

  The house and lot both look well kept thanks to the property manager I hired years ago to keep it maintained. I also pay for a housekeeper to visit once a week so I know the house is being cleaned and straightened.

  I noticed a shadow behind the front door and it swung open just as we stepped onto the front porch. Well, that’s a first. I can’t remember the last time my dad greeted me at the door. Normally when I visit, he’s in his recliner watching TV so I know his eagerness today has nothing to do with me.

  I held the screen door open and motioned for Hannah to go inside, then followed her, closing the door behind me.

  “Hey dad,” I said giving him an awkward hug. “This is Hannah Adams.”

  I didn’t add anything after her name. Calling her my girlfriend seems juvenile. But if you’re not married or engaged, what other term do you use when you’re in a relationship as an adult?

  He watches the news so he knows exactly who she is and the nature of our relationship. Then again the fact that she’s here says it all. I haven’t brought anyone into this house since high school.

  “What d’ya got there?” he asked Hannah.

  “We were just at a fundraiser and they had the most amazing food. The woman in charge insisted we bring some for you,” she said. “I highly recommend the lobster rolls. They’re amazing.”

  “Hannah had her first lobster roll today,” I said as I rummaged through the cupboard for some plates.

  “Where’d you grow up?” he asked.

  “On the West Coast,” she said as she removed the items from the box one by one and placed them on the kitchen table. “Then I moved to Myrtle Beach, and they’re more about hush puppies and fritters down there.”

  “What do you want to drink, dad?”

  “Just water,” he said. “But I should be waiting on you two since you’re my guests.”

  He really is putting on a good show for Hannah.

  I grabbed three bottles of water from the refrigerator, quickly taking an inventory before closing the door. The housekeeping service I hired also keeps his cupboards and refrigerator stocked.

  I pulled out a chair for Hannah to sit. She�
��d made my father a plate and I asked if he wanted it warmed up.

  “No, it’s good,” he said.

  I settled into the seat next to Hannah and picked at the potatoes, eating them straight from the container.

  “Do you want me to make you a plate, too?” she asked.

  “No, they taste better this way.”

  She shook her head and chuckled.

  “This is a pretty good lobster roll. Why don’t you have another one?” he said to Hannah. “It looks like there are plenty.”

  “I already had two,” she said.

  “Yeah, but third one’s the charm,” he said. “It’ll taste even better.”

  Who is this man?

  Since my mother died, I’ve endured conversations filled with his single-word responses. But, much to my surprise, the conversation between him and Hannah flowed. The man spends his days watching TV and reading so he’s well versed in everything from Harry Potter to the latest Hollywood gossip. Naturally he knew about her father but didn’t ask too many questions. He seemed much more interested in the woman sitting across from him, and I can’t say I blame him.

  “Can I use your restroom?” Hannah asked when there was a break in the conversation.

  I pointed toward the door just across from us, but my father said, “That one has been acting up. Use the one upstairs.” Before I could ask, he offered, “I have a plumber coming to look at it next week.”

  Standing, I gestured to Hannah and said, “Follow me.”

  I walked through the living room and up the stairs and she followed a few steps behind. I know she’s trying to get a good look at the pictures that are hanging on the wall and scattered on tables without being too obvious.

  We stood outside the bathroom and she looked at the other four doors in the hall then asked, “Which room was yours?”

  I pointed to the one at the end of the hall.

  “Will you show me?”

  Hannah followed me down the hall and I opened the door, gesturing for her to step inside. She stopped and looked around then took a few more steps into the room. I watched her, trying to see it from her point of view.

  The room is like a time capsule. Nothing has changed since I left. Trophies and awards line the shelves I’d helped my father hang when I was about nine years old. Signed baseballs sit on one dresser and a scattering of baseball caps on the other. The full-size bed is decked out with Boston sheets and the windows are covered with curtains to match.

  “Was this your girlfriend?” she asked, pointing to my senior prom picture stuck in the dresser mirror.

  “Just a prom date,” I said. “She lives a few doors down so we grew up together. Her boyfriend broke up with her a few weeks before prom so I stepped in.”

  She smiled. “What a guy.”

  “Yeah, I’m a regular knight in shining armor.”

  I smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, then turned and walked out of the room, hoping she didn’t ask about the framed picture of my mom and me sitting on the nightstand. Thankfully she took my cue and I closed the door behind me.

  “I’ll see you downstairs,” I said and left her standing outside the bathroom.

  “I thought you got lost,” my father said when I entered the kitchen.

  “Just showing Hannah my old room.”

  He picked up his plate and stood, then placed it in the sink. His back still to me, he said, “I like her. She’s not like those floozies I’ve seen you with.”

  I took a long drink of water, hoping it would drown the sarcastic comment on the tip of my tongue. Thankfully it worked so I took another quick sip before putting the bottle down.

  He joined me at the table again.

  “And I can tell you like her, too.”

  “No denying that,” I said.

  “Jack, I know I haven’t been a great father to you, but…” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to unleash more than twenty years of frustration on him. Instead of letting him have it, I focused on peeling the label off my water bottle in tiny strips. My father hasn’t said this much to me in years and I’m hoping he gives me a clue what this is all about.

  Opening his eyes, he looked directly into mine.

  “I’ve been seeing a counselor for the past four months.”

  And there it is.

  I snapped my head up to look at him.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

  “I wanted to make some progress first,” he said. “And I was hoping that maybe now that you have someone in your life that you love like I loved your mother, you’ll understand a little better.”

  “Dad, it’s not like that.” My stomach twisted with my words.

  His laugh sounded rusty. “I wish I could take a picture so you could see how you look at her.”

  I heard the sound of running water and the floor above us creaked. I want to get this conversation over before she came back.

  He blinked and looked directly at me with watery eyes.

  “Jack, the Reagan men love hard. You have generations of happy marriages and love stories in your history. Granted, your path has been a little different than all of ours, but the destination is the same.”

  He took a drink and slowly screwed the cap back on the bottle.

  How the fuck is my father who’s been in a deep state of depression for the better part of my life giving me relationship advice? I wanted to ask him, but I’m not that much of a prick.

  “When that drunk driver took your mother away from me...” He trailed off and shook his head.

  I should have gone back to peeling the damn label, but my hands were shaking too hard. Should have kept my mouth shut too, but I couldn’t seem to do that either.

  “Did you ever once consider the fact that that drunk driver took my mother away from me?” The words came out as a vicious whisper and once they started flowing, I couldn’t stop them. “And my father too because you couldn’t keep yourself together enough to actually be a parent.”

  I swallowed and took a breath, trying to slow my pounding heart. I heard Hannah’s feet on the stairs, the pauses letting me know she was taking the time to check out the photos she’d missed on the way up.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I don’t lose control like this.

  Ever.

  Well, not since right after my mother died and I realized I was going to have to be strong because the man in front of me couldn’t be.

  Before either of us could say anything else, Hannah entered the kitchen. It was obvious from the look on her face that she felt the tension in the room. She looked from me to my father and back again, and her lips curled up slightly, offering me a slight smile.

  My heart skipped a beat at her small show of support and that familiar warmth spread through my chest.

  “You ready to go?”

  My voice came out more harsh than I’d intended, but she didn’t react or seem surprised by my question. She simply nodded and told my father how nice it was to meet him and thanked him for his hospitality.

  I swallowed, hoping my tone would be somewhat softer next time I spoke. I swore I wouldn’t let my father ruin this time with Hannah and I won’t. We’re gonna have an amazing night and a great day tomorrow.

  And after that, I have to work on getting my shit back under control.

  Chapter 37

  Hannah

  “Oh my gosh, he’s gorgeous.”

  My new little brother blinked sleepy blue eyes at me. You gotta love FaceTime. This live action is better than a video for sure.

  “Melanie was splendid,” my father said and I dragged my eyes from the baby to look in his direction.

  He tilted his iPad so I could see Melanie propped up against the headboard of the bed behind him. They both looked exhausted but the happiness shined through.

  “Does he have hair?” I asked.

  Since my dad’s hands were full, Mel leaned forward and pulled off the baby’s bean
ie, exposing soft tufts of light blond hair.

  “Blond haired and blue eyed like his daddy,” she said, making my dad beam with pride.

  My dad and I have similar features, but I really wish I’d inherited his eyes. They’re a cerulean blue and dip slightly at the edges, giving him a perpetual look of sincerity.

  “So did you decide on a name?” Last I’d heard, they’d narrowed it down to three and were waiting to see which suited him.

  “Jacob,” my father said.

  “Hey Jacob. I can’t wait to meet you in person and hold you.”

  Jacob was obviously unimpressed by my words because his mouth twisted into a wide yawn. The three of us watched the little miracle as he settled back into place.

  “I’m gonna take this little man to the nursery and rock him a bit,” he said. “You girls can enjoy a chat.” He kissed the screen and said, “Love ya baby girl.”

  After handing the iPad to Mel, he stood and she watched them leave, a sappy look on her face, then turned to me.

  “So how was it?”

  “Wonderful. Horrible. Amazing. Painful as hell.” She smiled wide. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “He’s perfect, Mel. Congratulations.”

  Her watery eyes met mine through the screen.

  “Thank you.”

  Before things got too mushy and we both ended up blubbering, I asked, “So how was the home birth? Would you do that again?”

  Much to my father’s chagrin, Mel had wanted to have the baby at home. They’ve kept a low profile since the wedding and she didn’t want to jeopardize that by going to the hospital. She’d made her final decision after the story about me was published.

  “I would do it again. At least I was comfortable in my own home during the hours of labor. I could pace the hall without worrying someone was gonna snap a picture of me.”

  “How’d my dad hold up?”

  “He was great. I know he wasn’t sold on the home birth, but he was still supportive.”