He looked at Emma. “Worst month of my life. I spent every night at the restaurant, worried sick, resenting that I had to be there. Every day I scoured the streets, looking for Frankie. Talking to her friends, trying to figure out where she was. Afraid she was dead.”
He swallowed. “So, yeah, I know what it’s like to raise kids. Especially kids who are grieving. Which, by the way, I hope you have covered. I hope Harley’s getting grief counseling.”
“Of...of course she is.” God, what could she say to him? Any apology would be completely inadequate.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, it was as though Emma was facing a stranger. “You know, Emma, you’re right. You’re Harley’s legal guardian. She’s your responsibility. So you figure out what you want to do and let me know.” He pulled out his wallet and threw some money onto the table. “I have to get back to work, and I’m sure you do, too. I’ll talk to you later.”
He grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet. He limped out of the pub without looking back.
Emma watched him walk past the windows and disappear from view. God. She’d had no idea.
No wonder he’d been less than thrilled when he’d found out about Harley. He’d raised three kids already, and it must have seemed as if Harley was Frankie all over again. Grieving, hormonal, lost.
On top of whatever was going on at the restaurant.
Once again, she wondered what would have happened between them if Sonya hadn’t died. When he’d stared at her this afternoon, the heat in his eyes had been as intimate as a caress.
She’d wished it had been. She’d wanted him to kiss her. Wanted to kiss him back.
And wasn’t that foolish? She had to maintain her objectivity. As Harley’s legal guardian and a DCFS social worker, she’d eventually be asked her opinion of Nathan’s parenting skills. Of the bond between him and Harley. How could she do that if she was...involved with him?
Abby stopped next to the booth. “Your friend couldn’t stick around?” she said, her expression sympathetic.
“He had to leave.” Emma forced a smile. “Maybe you should just bring the check.”
“Be right back.”
A few minutes later, the waitress dropped off the bill for her iced tea and Nathan’s coffee. Nathan had left far too much money. She slapped the twenty into the folder with the bill and slid out of the booth.
She thought she’d known so much about being a parent. Compared to Nathan, she knew nothing. A sharp, cold wind whipped at her hair as she hurried to her car. Harley needed to spend time with Nathan, getting to know him. And she had to make it happen, even though it brought her closer and closer to losing Harley.
Even if it broke her heart.
CHAPTER NINE
HARLEY SLOWED HER steps as they reached the front door of Mama’s Place. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Right now, Emma didn’t, either. “Why not?” she asked, wishing desperately that they were back in her cozy apartment. Her heart was racing and her damp hand slipped off the door handle.
“We can’t, like, just surprise him.”
“He suggested we have dinner here,” Emma said. “We didn’t have a chance to arrange a day.” Because she’d made one too many snarky remarks and he’d walked out of Oscar’s.
“This is stupid,” Harley muttered.
Emma had been the stupid one. Irritated because Nathan wouldn’t tell her what was going on at the restaurant. Hurt that he questioned her parenting skills, although he had every right to do so. And disgusted with herself because she’d still noticed the blue of his eyes, the width of his shoulders and the way his face softened when he smiled.
Appalled that she’d wanted to kiss him.
It had been several days since the fiasco at Oscar’s. Emma realized she had to make this move, but she’d been dreading it. Which was why she was determined to get it over with. “Look, Harley, you have to talk to him. Get to know him. He’s your father. And starting tonight, we’re coming here for dinner once a week.” Emma had to talk to him, too.
“I don’t want to be here.” Desperation filled Harley’s voice. “Not after last time.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “We should go home. I don’t feel good.”
“I know you’re nervous.” Emma smoothed her hand down Harley’s back. “Maybe you should just tell him you’re sorry for making a scene in his restaurant.”
Harley’s face reddened. “I was angry.”
“I know you were. And I don’t blame you. But this is where he works. You embarrassed him in front of his customers.”
Harley shoved her hands into the pockets of her fleece jacket. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Great. A sullen kid and an embarrassed woman. The perfect way to begin Harley’s relationship with her father. “Come on, Harley. Maybe you’ll have a good time.”
“Yeah. Right.”
Emma took a deep breath, opened the door and walked in. The restaurant smelled like garlic, tomatoes and cheese. Comforting, homey scents. It was just after five—she’d picked Harley up early from FreeZone—and the restaurant was empty.
Harley was right. This was a bad idea. It would be just the three of them. She should have called Nathan to set up a specific time to get together. But every time she’d reached for the phone, she remembered how she’d behaved at Oscar’s and couldn’t bring herself to call.
“There’s no one here. Maybe it’s not open,” Harley said hopefully.
Emma scanned the tables. Last time she was here, she’d been too nervous to notice the decor. Now she saw that all the tablecloths were covered with sheets of butcher’s paper. Small lights twinkled on the ceiling. Photos of Italy, sports figures, children, hung on the walls. Laminated newspaper articles and restaurant reviews, yellowing with age, were displayed by the entrance. A photo of a smiling, middle-aged couple hung in an old frame close to the door. Reminders of family were everywhere.
Harley’s family.
“It’s open every day but Monday,” Emma said, trying to sound as though she was glad to be here. She heard voices in the kitchen, then the door opened and a waitress walked through. She had bright red hair and carried a tray loaded with small cheese dishes.
She stared at them for a moment, then smiled. “Welcome to Mama’s,” she said. “Let me get Nathan.” She bumped the door open with her hip and yelled, “Customers waiting.”
The door swung closed behind the waitress and she began to set the dishes on the tables. Emma’s stomach twisted and she wanted to run out the door, the way Harley had done last time they were here.
The door swung open again and Nathan came into the dining room. He wore a dark gray suit that emphasized his muscled chest and flat abdomen and a light blue shirt that made his eyes look even brighter. He started toward them, smiling. His smile faded when he recognized them.
“Harley. Emma. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Apparently Nathan didn’t like surprises. At least this kind. “You, ah, said that Tuesdays were good.”
“I did, didn’t I.” He shifted his gaze to Harley and his face softened. “How are you doing, Harley?”
The girl shrugged one shoulder. “Okay.”
“I’m glad to see you.” He fumbled a couple of menus off the top of the stack. “Let’s find you a table.”
Harley elbowed her in the side. Hard. “This was a bad idea,” she whispered.
Emma privately agreed, but they’d have to muddle through it.
“It’ll be fine.”
Harley rolled her eyes and lifted her hand to her forehead. Pretending to brush her hair to the side, Harley’s fingers formed an L .
Loser. An hysterical laugh bubbled up in Emma’s throat, and she clenched her jaw to suppress it. She glanced at Nathan, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But his lips twitched. Great. Would he think she was allowing Harley to be disrespectful? Would it be proof that she was the bad parent he’d accused her of being?
Nathan pulled out Emma’s chair, and she sat down. His fingertips brushed her back as he let go of the chair. She stilled. His hand lingered for a moment, then he let it drop with a final, tiny caress.
Harley had already sat down, so he placed the menus carefully in front of them. “What would you like to drink?” he asked politely. He glanced at Emma for a heartbeat, then looked away.
“Iced tea, please,” Emma said, wishing for something stronger.
“Coke,” Harley said, with a sidelong glance at Emma.
Emma shook her head. Harley hunched her shoulders. “I mean lemonade. Please,” she added after Emma narrowed her eyes.
“I’ll be right back.”
As Nathan hurried away, Harley leaned toward Emma. “He doesn’t want us here.” Hurt lingered beneath the girl’s I-don’t-want-to-be-here-either expression.
“Yes, he does,” she whispered back. “He’s the one who suggested it.”
“I don’t believe you.” Harley crossed her arms over her chest and watched as the redheaded waitress walked toward them, carrying their drinks.
“Here you go.” The waitress set glasses on the table. “I’m guessing you’re not ready to order yet.” Her gaze settled on Harley for a moment, then switched to Emma. “Here’s the list of Marco’s specialties for the day.” She set a laminated card on the table. “Your...our chef is really good. I think you’ll enjoy his food.”
“Thanks,” Emma said with a strained smile. Clearly, the woman remembered them and knew who they were. “I’m Emma, by the way. This is Harley.”
“And I’m Phyllis. Nice to meet you both.”
After Phyllis walked away, Harley said, “Why did you introduce us? That was weird.”
“Because she remembers us from last time,” Emma said. “It was the polite thing to do.”
Harley’s pale cheeks turned bright red, highlighting the sprinkling of freckles. “Does everyone here know he’s my father?”
“Probably everyone who works here. You were pretty, ah, loud.”
Harley looked around wildly, but there was no one else in sight. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No. This time we’re facing the situation. We’re going to have dinner and talk to Nathan. You’re going to show him you weren’t raised by wolves.” And I’m going to choke down a large helping of crow.
Nathan reappeared, carrying two plates. They each held three small servings of different foods. “I thought you might like to try Marco’s specials. Everyone who works here samples them before we open. We’ve been doing it forever.” He glanced at Harley as he set the plates on the table. “My parents used to do the same thing when they ran the restaurant. My dad was the chef then.”
Harley was studying the plate and didn’t respond. Emma wondered if she realized Nathan was trying to tell her something about her family. About their traditions.
“Smells okay.” Harley glared up at Nathan. “Your brother’s the chef? I guess even jerks can cook.”
Instead of getting annoyed, Nathan smiled. “Marco is a little excitable. But he knows what he’s doing in the kitchen.”
Harley picked up a fork, and Nathan sat across from her. He leaned forward, as if genuinely interested in her opinion. Nathan couldn’t know it, but giving Harley food to taste was a perfect way to get her talking.
Emma tried some of the first dish. It was a pasta with a rich red sauce. Tiny pieces of carrots and celery nestled in the curves of the pasta. It was delicious. “That’s really good,” she said.
Nathan smiled. “I’ll tell Marco.”
Harley tried it and nodded. “It’s okay. Bolognese sauce is so last year, though.”
Nathan’s smile faded. “What?”
Harley shrugged. “That’s what all the cooking shows were doing last season. They’ve moved on. Your brother probably should, too.”
“Harley.” Emma’s fork clattered to the plate. “That was rude.”
“It’s the truth.” Harley gave Emma an innocent look. “We’re telling the truth now, aren’t we?”
Emma shot a horrified look at Nathan and was shocked to see him struggle to hide a grin. “Yeah, Harley. You’re right. We’re all about the truth.” He leaned back in his chair. “What about the gnocchi with the brown butter sage sauce?”
Emma took a bite and savored the flavor for a moment. “That’s great. I really like it.”
Harley took a bite, chewed. “It’s good. But I think he browned the butter a little too much.” She tasted the third sample, a red sauce with roasted vegetables. “This one needs more basil.”
“You’ve got quite the palate,” Nathan said. He wasn’t smiling now.
Harley raised her eyebrows. “Just saying.”
“I’ll pass along your comments to Marco. I’m sure he’ll appreciate them.”
It was impossible to read Nathan’s expression. But Emma would love to be a fly on the wall when the “excitable” Marco heard his new niece’s snarky remarks. “I guess I’m missing the subtleties.” Emma took another bite. “I love all three of them.”
“Thanks,” Nathan said, his expression softening as he glanced at her. “Marco is good at what he does.” He turned back to Harley, watching as she finished the samples. “My mother used to do that,” he murmured.
“Do what?” Emma asked.
“What Harley did.” He kept his gaze on the girl as he spoke. “I remember her telling my father when a dish wasn’t quite right. She could identify every ingredient, and she wasn’t shy about pointing out his mistakes. Looks like you inherited the family palate, Harley.”
Harley scowled. “That’s stupid. Emma was just being polite. Anyone could tell there was a problem with those samples.”
“No, they couldn’t,” he began. The front door opened and a family of five came in. The oldest child, a girl of about ten, said something to the youngest boy. He shoved her and she bumped into the podium.
“Excuse me,” Nathan said, pushing away from the table. As he walked to the front of the restaurant, the mother grabbed the girl and said something in a low voice. The girl smirked.
Nathan took menus, paper place mats and a box of crayons and led the family to a table in the adjoining room. It was separated from the room where Emma and Harley sat by a low wall and arches that were supposed to resemble windows. Tiny white lights outlined each of the arches.
Emma watched as he seated the mother, then held a chair for the girl. By the time he was finished, he’d skillfully maneuvered her between her parents and put the younger boys across from her.
He crouched next to the girl and asked her something. She nodded vigorously and grinned. Then Nathan walked around the table and spoke to the boys. They nodded, too.
By the time Nathan left them, the tension at the table had eased. The mother was smiling, talking to the father. The three kids were coloring on their place mats.
All because of some deft handling by Nathan.
Hard-learned, Emma reminded herself. Unlike her professional experience
with kids, Nathan had actually raised them.
Emma’s face burned as it did every time she remembered her crack about a guy without kids knowing what to do with them. Instead of jumping down her throat, Nathan had been remarkably low-key while telling his story.
Emma took a sip of iced tea and watched Nathan seat another couple with a baby. He’d said Tuesdays were quiet. Maybe, at the rate people were coming in, he wouldn’t have a chance to talk to them after all.
Irritating that she was disappointed rather than relieved.
* * *
NATHAN DELIVERED ANOTHER round of kiddy cocktails to the three kids who’d come in fighting. “Thank you,” their mother murmured. She leaned closer to Nathan. “I’m pathetically grateful.”
“You’re more than welcome. A lot of arguments can be smoothed over by a glass of Seven Up and grenadine.” He smiled as he watched the kids pull the orange slices and cherries off the little swords and slurp them down. The two boys began a swordfight with the plastic picks, and their father just barely rescued the youngest boy’s bright red drink. “Let me see if your dinner is ready,” Nathan added quickly.
As he hurried toward the kitchen, he glanced at Emma and Harley. Emma was leaning toward Harley, saying something. From the mulish look on Harley’s face, they weren’t exchanging pleasantries.
Then Emma held out her hand. Instead of giving her whatever she was asking for, Harley slipped a phone into the back pocket of her jeans, then held her hands up.
Emma stared at his daughter for a moment, then nodded once.
His daughter. It still sounded so foreign. So strange. The thought brought a familiar surge of anger. Why hadn’t Sonya Michaels contacted him? She’d known where he was.
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