I’m still mad and hurt. I haven’t completely let go of my anger. But there’s nothing I can do about my parents’ marriage ending. I love them both. And that will never change no matter what.
Maybe that’s what I have to hang on to right now.
Dad forks off a hearty chunk of apple pie and takes a bite. Once he’s done, he says, “It means a lot to me that we’re moving forward, Nat.”
“I’m glad we are, too.” I’ve managed to plow my way through half the lava cake, which is rich, gooey, and utterly delicious.
Taking a breath, he fiddles around with his pie instead of digging in. Right away my antenna goes up. I can tell there’s more he wants to say.
Before he has a chance to speak, I cut in. “I’m sorry about freezing you out. I shouldn’t have done that.” I shrug helplessly. “I just felt so angry with you for leaving the way you did. For not trying to work it out.”
“I know,” he acknowledges gently. “And I understand. The separation has been hard on all of us, but especially you.”
I nod and take a deep breath. We’ve talked through a lot over dinner. But we haven’t discussed everything. We haven’t discussed her. As difficult as it is to think about, it’s a topic that needs to be forced into the light if we’re truly going to move forward with our relationship.
“Dad, I—”
At the same time, he says, “Nat, there’s someone I want to introduce you to.”
My brows draw together as a woman materializes beside our table. “Huh?”
“This is Bridgette.” Dad shoots out of his chair and wraps an arm around her waist. She leans her body into his.
Thrown off by the interruption, my eyes bounce between Dad, who looks like he’s sweating bullets, and the curvy woman at his side.
“Hi, Natalie. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.” Her voice is deep and rich. Sultry.
I blink in confusion. “Hello.” Who is this woman? Why is she here at our table?
She beams a smile at Dad, who leans over and kisses her on the lips.
What the hell?
After they break apart, she lowers herself to the chair situated between us.
“Sweetheart,” Dad says nervously. “I hope you don’t mind that Bridgette stopped by to meet you.”
I don’t…
Oh.
Ohhhhh.
The chocolate cake I’ve just eaten feels like it’s going to revolt and make an encore appearance. I do my best to tamp down the rising nausea.
So, this is the homewrecking whore. I should have known. She’s got a sex kitten vibe to her. I narrow my eyes. There’s no way she’s more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old, and Dad is…
In his late forties.
She’s closer to my age than she is to his. She could be his daughter.
Ewww.
I’m totally grossed out.
Unaware of the thoughts rampaging through my brain, Bridgette flashes a big, toothy smile at me. I hate her instantly. All the anger I’ve felt over the last nine months roars to life again. The sight of her is like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
“I’m so glad you and your dad were able to get together and work this out.” She leans toward me, and I’m half afraid she’s going to grab hold of my hand. “He’s missed you so much. He talks nonstop about you.”
Realizing that I’m clutching my fork in a death grip, I carefully set it on my plate and inhale a deep breath, hoping it will calm me. It doesn’t.
“Bridgette, is it?” And yes, I damn well know that’s her name. It is, unfortunately, singed into my brain for all eternity.
The happiness on her face falters. She nods, and the smile dims in wattage.
I angle my body toward her and say, “I agreed to meet with my dad and talk to him. I have zero interest in talking with the woman who destroyed my parents’ marriage.”
Her eyes widen before darting to my father as if she’s unsure what to do or say. Which is hilarious. Come on, girlfriend…What’d you expect was going to happen? That you’d waltz in here and the three of us would join hands and sing “Kumbaya”?
Over my dead and decomposed body.
“Natalie!” Dad says sharply.
Glaring at him, I jerk my thumb toward Bridgette, who is squirming silently on her chair. “Why is she here?”
My father looks thrown by the question. He falters before finding his footing. “I thought it was important for you to meet Bridgette.” There’s a pause as I wait for the other shoe to drop. “We’re getting married.”
And there it is.
My mouth falls open. “Are you kidding? Please tell me you’re kidding. You can’t marry her!” I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around his words and what they mean. “Oh my God, how old is she?”
Bridgette’s face turns a dull red. She looks like she wants to sink right into her chair.
Good. I hope she’s humiliated. She deserves it, the homewrecking little slut.
My father pokers up in his chair, his face turning stern. He used to trot out that expression when I was a kid and had done something wrong. Ironic that he’s now the one doing something wrong and trying to give it to me.
I don’t think so, buddy.
“It doesn’t matter what her age is,” he says calmly. “What matters is how we feel for one another.”
“You can’t be serious.” Turning toward the interloper, I narrow my eyes. “Are you even thirty?”
Her cheeks pinken even more until she looks as though she’s moments away from bursting into flames. I’d rejoice if that were to happen.
“Natalie, I’m appalled by your behavior. I think you owe Bridgette an apology. Maybe we shouldn’t have sprung this on you, but I wanted everything out in the open so we could move forward.”
For the first time since my dad’s fiancée sat down at the table with us, hurt rushes through me like a river. Wetness stings the backs of my eyes, and I blink furiously, not wanting the tears to fall. I’ll be damned if I allow either of them to see how upset I am.
Bridgette clears her throat. “I’ll be twenty-eight next month. I know the age difference is a bit of a shock, but I want you to know that I love your father.” She glances down at her hands, which are twisting in her lap. “We make each other happy, and we want to be together.” Her eyes lift to mine again. “I’m sorry that it hurts you.”
Precariously close to losing it, I bolt from my chair. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now,” I say hastily.
Both Dad and his fiancée rise from their seats.
“Natalie, please…Let’s sit back down and discuss this like rational adults,” my father implores.
My hands tremble as I swipe my phone from the table and my purse from the back of the chair. I shake my head. “No, I can’t. I have to go.”
Not bothering to say goodbye, I rush toward the exit. My dad doesn’t try and stop me, which is a relief. I need to get out of here. Away from both of them.
I can’t breathe.
After I push out through the doors into the warm evening air, my feet grind to a halt, and I suck in a deep breath. Then close my eyes and try to steady myself.
My apartment building is about a mile from the restaurant. Zara dropped me off earlier this evening. If I called her, she’d be here in a heartbeat. No questions asked. Next to Mom, Zara is the only other person in the world I can count on. But I don’t want to do that. I think the walk will do me good. It’ll give me some time to clear my head and process what just happened.
“Davies?”
I blink and focus on the guy who has appeared out of nowhere.
Feeling confused, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
Chapter Fifteen
Brody
I jerk my thumb toward a couple of guys from the team who are behind me. “We’re just about to grab dinner.” My eyes slide over her with more care. Even though I don’t know Natalie all that well, I can tell something’s bothering her. She seems off. And pale. “Are you
okay?”
Not answering, she bites her lip, and her eyes jerk back to the restaurant.
“Natalie?” I say with a bit more force. This isn’t the Natalie Davies I’ve known since freshman year. That girl is a bruiser and yeah, upon occasion, a real ballbuster. The quiet woman in front of me is nothing more than a paper-thin shadow of her.
She remains silent as a couple of guys pass us on their way inside.
There’s no way I’m leaving her out here alone like this. Making a split-second decision, I tell them, “Hey, I’m going to run Natalie home. Just grab dinner without me.”
Of course, a few of the assholes otherwise known as my friends can’t just say okay, catch ya back at the house. They’ve got to get in a crack or two about me being pussy-whipped.
I roll my eyes.
Give me a break. It’s been less than a week.
Ignoring them, I say, “Come on.” I nod my head toward the lot. “My truck is parked over there. I’ll take you back to your apartment.”
Looking a little more like herself, she waves me away. “Go have dinner with your friends. It’s not that far of a walk. I’ll be fine.”
The sun is just beginning to dip beneath the horizon. Sure, it’ll be a while before it’s dark out, but so what? I’m still not letting her walk home alone. She may not know this about me, but I can play the part of a gentleman pretty well.
“I’m sure you would be,” I say. “But there’s obviously something wrong, and I’d like to know what it is.” Before she gets it in her head that arguing with me will do any good, I add, “I’m not taking no for an answer. We can stand here all night and discuss it, sweetheart. It’s up to you.”
She sucks in a sharp breath and slowly releases it. “Don’t you think you’re taking this fake-boyfriend thing a bit too far?”
I chuckle because it sounds like she’s on the verge of relenting. Which, quite honestly, is very un-Natalie-like. My girl over here loves to get into it with me. That only reinforces my suspicions that whatever’s bothering her is a big deal. “It’s good practice for the real thing, right?” I give her a wink and the tension radiating off her in thick, heavy waves dissipates.
We fall in line together as we walk toward the truck. I open the passenger side door and make a grand sweeping gesture with my arm. “Your chariot awaits, madam.”
She snorts and slides inside without a word. I close the door and circle around to the driver’s side.
“Since when do chariots cost more than forty grand?” she asks as I turn the key and start the engine.
I shrug. “Dunno. Inflation?”
The edges of her lips pull up, and she settles onto the leather with a deep sigh as if she’s bone weary.
Once we’re both fastened in, I pull the truck out of the lot. When she remains silent, staring contemplatively out the window, I ask, “Are you going to tell me what happened or do you want to play a game of twenty questions?” When she doesn’t immediately respond, I add, “I’ll have you know that it usually only takes ten questions before I’m able to guess correctly.”
Natalie rolls her head toward me. She looks a little unsure and a lot exhausted. “You really want to know?”
Electricity zips through the air as our gazes connect. My teasing tone falls away. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
She pulls her eyes from mine and focuses straight ahead. “My parents separated nine months ago. I met with my father at the restaurant for the first time since he walked out.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” No wonder she looks upset. “It didn’t go the way you thought it would?” Hearing this makes me realize just how little I know about Natalie on a personal level. It also makes me realize that I want to dig beneath the surface and get to know her better.
Her expression turns to one of sadness. “Not at all.”
“What happened?” I have no idea if she wants to talk about it. I just know that I want to make her feel better.
Natalie chuckles, but the sound is scraped raw and full of pain. It makes me ache for her. “She showed up halfway through dessert.”
My brows pull together in confusion. I feel like I missed something in the conversation. “Who?”
“His girlfriend,” she bites out. “Actually, I was informed over dessert that the happy couple is now engaged to be married. Which is interesting because the divorce hasn’t been finalized yet.”
I let out a long, low whistle. “Shit, Davies. That sucks.”
“Yeah, it really does.” Looking deflated, she says, “We’ve texted a few times since he left, but I’ve been so angry about everything. This was the first time I’d agreed to sit down and talk about the divorce with him. I was hoping we could move forward.”
I don’t say a word. I just let Natalie talk.
“We make it through dinner and everything starts to feel normal again.” She glances at me. “It was nice. And then he ambushes me. Suddenly there she is, standing at the table, smiling at me like some kind of lunatic.”
I grimace at the picture she paints. “What’d you do?”
Her eyes dart to mine, and she whispers, “I lost it.”
“Lost it like you leaped across the table and tackled her to the ground?”
The edges of her lips lift. “No. But I would have loved to do that.”
I nod my head. “Yeah, I could see it happening. Chaos breaks out and the waitstaff has to pry you off her.”
“Oh, come on.” She chuckles and swats at my arm. “You could seriously see me doing that?”
“Hell, yeah.” I glance at her again as we continue toward her apartment. “Don’t forget that I saw you deck Nick Jacobs last year at a party.”
She covers her face with her hands. “Oh God, I forgot about that.”
“I think about it every time I see you.” I refrain from adding what a turn-on it is to see a girl who can take care of business when it’s called for. “So, if you didn’t tackle her to the ground, what’d you do?”
She huffs out a breath and shakes her head. “I don’t even remember. Honestly, it’s all a blur. I think I might have called her a homewrecker. Or something to that effect, anyway.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah…” She sighs. “My dad wasn’t too happy.”
“I can’t imagine that he was.”
“Did I mention that Bridgette—that’s her name by the way—is only twenty-seven?”
Wanting to offer comfort, I reach out with my free hand and lay it on top of hers before giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. I’m not sure what else to do. Her eyes lock on mine as if she’s surprised by the gesture. When she doesn’t slip them free, it feels like we might just be making progress.
“I’m sorry, Davies. The situation sucks all the way around.”
“Yeah, it does.” She’s silent for a beat. “These last nine months have been difficult. Even though I’ve been angry with him, I’ve still missed having him around…if that makes sense.”
I get it. “He’s your dad. Of course, it makes sense.”
“I guess I was hoping we could,” she shrugs, “I don’t know…get back to where we were before he walked out.”
“You could still do that,” I say quietly.
Her expression hardens and her body tenses. “No, I can’t.” Looking resolute, she shakes her head. “I’m more pissed now than I was before, if you can believe that. Coming face-to-face with that woman, knowing she’s the one who broke up their marriage...I honestly don’t know what he was thinking when he invited her to join us.”
“I don’t know, Davies. Maybe he just wanted you guys to be okay with each other,” I suggest. I’m grasping at straws.
“Well, that’s definitely not going to happen in this lifetime. He made his choice.” Natalie’s voice breaks. “And it wasn’t me.”
I clench her fingers, wishing there was more I could do. “Maybe you just need to give it time.”
Not saying a word, she stares out the window.
Just as we�
��re pulling into the parking lot of her building, I realize that I don’t want to let her go. Impulsively, I ask, “You want to go somewhere?”
Her expression immediately turns suspicious.
I can’t resist the chuckle that escapes. “I’m not going to take you back to my house, okay? Sheesh.”
She bites down on her lip looking as though she’s trying to rein in a smile. “What do you have in mind?”
“You’ll see.” Considering how upset she is, an almost-there smile seems like a small victory. “Grab a jacket and let’s go.”
Her brows draw together, and I see the questions swirling in her eyes. Before she can ask them, I say, “It’s a surprise, Davies. Just grab a jacket and you’ll find out soon enough.”
In a shocking turn of events, she does exactly as I say. Guess there’s a first time for everything. Of course, I’m smart enough not to mention that to Natalie.
Fifteen minutes later we pull into the city ice arena parking lot. This is the place where I first started out playing Mini-Mites when I was four years old. I hope it’ll take her mind off what’s bothering her, if only for a little while.
“You brought me to a skating rink?” She shoots me a skeptical look as we exit the truck.
“Yep.”
Confused, she asks, “So…what are we going to do here?”
I grab hold of her fingers and tug her along when she stops and stares at the huge white building. “We’re going to do a little something called skating. Maybe you’ve heard of it before?”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I try.” Especially around her. “We’re strapping blades on your feet, and I’m taking you out on the ice.” I raise a brow in challenge. “Do you know how to skate, Davies?”
“I took a few lessons.” She pauses and adds, “When I was seven.”
“Then you’ll be fine. It’s just like riding a bike.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking it might be a bit harder than that. I seem to remember falling on my ass quite a bit.”
With our hands clasped, I tow her through the automatic doors and into the arena. We head toward the rental booth and grab two pairs of skates. Then we move to a bench outside the rink so we can change. When we’re both laced up, I stand and hold out my hand for her to take. There’s something strangely natural about having her smaller one ensconced in mine.
Hate to Love You Page 11