Chapter Twelve
The taste of sushi had grown on Jackson slowly, but the way it provided easy conversation made him an instant fan. Turns out that Megan could talk sushi for hours. Her mother, Kim, was just the kind of woman to raise her daughter in pretentious sushi restaurants. But for this one thing, Jackson was glad.
Most of the time, Megan spoke to him in annoyed sounds: huffs, grunts, eye rolls. Okay, eye rolls didn’t make noise. She still did all these things across the table from him at Tsujiki, but she loved sushi so much that her reactions were all tempered. They became affectionate somehow. Like they moved from: “you’re so annoying, I hate you” to: “you’re so annoying; it’s adorable.” She seemed to like Jackson’s questions. And, for this little window of time, she wasn’t just staring at a screen of some kind.
“Tempura … do I like tempura?”
“Yes. Tempura is that fried batter. You know, the little crispy crunchies that come on top of the Spicy Crunchy Yellowtail? There are also some rolls that are put in tempura batter and fried, so they’re warm not cold. Like the Dynamite Roll.”
“I like crunchies. Warm sushi? Pass. Eel sauce—do I like that?”
“You aren’t a fan.”
“Good to know.”
“You do realize that you could write this down. Or put it in a notes app on your phone or something.” She sighed and he smiled.
“I should really do that.” He wouldn’t.
Megan rolled her eyes. “I want to try something new—are you in? Let’s try the Spider roll. It has soft shell crab fried inside it. The presentation is fun.”
“Fried anything is always okay with me. And crab, yes. You got me all excited about the crunchies, so I want the Spicy Crunchy Yellowtail. You pick the rest. New or old, I don’t care. I do want vegetables tempura if you’d like to split.”
“Are these dinners the only time you eat vegetables?”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
Megan dipped her head to write down their selections on the paper sushi menu, but Jackson caught her smile before she did. Just like sushi softened her annoyance with him, it tempered his frustrations over her bossy, precocious attitude. How was she twelve and talking to him—an adult, her father—the way she did? But over sushi, he appreciated her taking charge.
Not for the first time, Jackson wondered who Megan would be if he had been in her life since the beginning. Probably not much different, considering that he had been a mess for a long time. If Kim had told him that she was pregnant, maybe he would have walked through the doors of the church sooner, at least from desperation.
It felt inevitable that he had ended up there, like it hadn’t even been a choice, as though God had been sitting there, looking at his watch, waiting for Jackson to arrive. Maybe that was a blasphemous mental picture, but Jackson didn’t particularly care. He liked the idea that God had just been waiting on him to wise up.
Maybe Kim would have told Jackson and then he would have married her. He wasn’t so much of a jerk that he wouldn’t have at least offered. Even if they really couldn’t stand each other. She put up with him now, the little they texted about Megan’s schedule, because of the money. He knew that. And it was one of the only times that he was glad that he had money. It meant that he could have a relationship with Megan.
He did wish that it had started earlier. That she hadn’t been so fully-formed when she met him. Obviously, Kim had filled her head with a lot of ideas about him, probably some of them true. He deserved a lot of the terrible things people said about him, just as he had endured Jenna’s insults. Then her harsh words changed into something very different.
“Are you still smiling about your new girlfriend?”
“You mean my bae?”
Megan grunted. “Getting trapped in an elevator is a cliché, you know. We aren’t actually living in a Hallmark movie, so the likelihood of you guys ending up together is slim in real life.”
“Thanks for that reality check, I guess.”
“I always appreciate people speaking the truth to me. I’ll do that for you. It’s a sign of affection.”
Jackson stared at Megan. She had never said anything that remotely hinted at the fact that she liked him. He probably should have kept things light, but he couldn’t. “You have affection for me?”
Cue the eyeroll. “Of course, J. We’re blood. Even if you wish we weren’t.”
She said that last part in little more than a mumble as she picked up her phone. Jackson ripped it from her hand and then dropped it, taking her hand in his own. She gazed up at him in shock.
“I would never—have never—wished you weren’t mine. Not one time. Is Kim telling you this? Or have I given you any even a tiny indication that I wasn’t glad to have you in my life?”
He had never seen the look on her face, mouth hanging open. “I—” She closed her mouth and looked down at her hand in his.
“If I have not shown you that I am so happy to have you in my life, then I am so sorry. I will start to fix that right now. It was an amazing day when Kim called to tell me about you. I wish she had done it years earlier. I hate that I’ve missed most of your life so far, but I don’t want to miss the rest of it. That is my commitment to you. I want to be here, be involved. However you’ll have me. I’ll let you choose. But it will never be because of me that we aren’t close. I will do all that I can.”
Was it too much? Had he pushed too hard? Maybe he was still feeling overwhelmed with the rush of feelings that came out of the afternoon with Jenna. He held his breath, waiting for Megan to make a wisecrack and go back to eye rolling.
“Jenna,” she said suddenly. Not what he’d been expecting.
He blinked. “What about Jenna?” He loved the way her name felt on his lips. Not as good as the way her lips had felt on his, but still good.
“She’s cool. I like her and I hope that it works out with you guys.”
For the second time that night, Jackson felt shocked. Thankfully the waitress arrived with a giant plate full of sushi. He needed a moment to adjust his face and temper his reaction. The one parenting lesson he’d learned quickly was that keeping your composure was a necessity. Shock and hot reactions to things had the effect of blood in the water. Megan wanted to shave half her head? That’s fine. She thought socialism and communism had a lot of valid points? Okay.
Half the time she said things, he felt like it was just to get a reaction. If he had freaked out about the idea of head-shaving, she would have done it, and then told Kim it was his fault. If he had explained the effects of communism and socialism on various countries, she probably would have joined some kind of communist school club. Or started one. Would schools even allow it? Probably.
By the time the waitress moved away, he had schooled his face into something more relaxed. He and Megan filled their small dishes with soy sauce. She liked to put wasabi in hers, stabbing it with her chopsticks until it formed a slurry. Jackson tried that once and couldn’t take the burn of it on his tongue and how it made him sneeze. He broke apart his chopsticks and rubbed them together the way Megan had showed him to remove any tiny splinters.
She smiled at him. “This is a feast, J. Check out the Spider Roll. What do you think?”
Megan giggled and picked up a piece of the Spider Roll, where the battered and fried crab legs were poking out of the middle. “Looks like a sci-fi movie, where the food is trying to escape.”
“You’re right. Night of the Living Sushi.”
“Do you like horror movies?”
“I do. Mostly because Kim hates them. I mean, that’s how I got started watching them. But now I actually like them a lot. You?”
“Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve been to see one, though.”
Her eyes lit up and she leaned forward. “There’s this Japanese one that looks terrifying. It’s got subtitles, but still. We should go. There is a movie theater here, right?”
“Yes. It’s not the nicest or newest. Surf and Cinema. Want to check to see
if it’s showing? They don’t have everything.”
“They’ll have this. It’s been killing it.”
Jackson did like horror movies. Maybe. He had liked them when he was a teenager. Probably the last one he saw in the theater was … he couldn’t even remember. He used to watch them on VHS. Rented out from the now-closed Blockbuster. He definitely wouldn’t tell Megan this or he’d lose more points. Hopefully he could still stomach scary. If he could learn to like sushi, he could do Japanese horror with his daughter.
“We’re on. I got tickets already. There were only a few good seats left.”
Jackson’s eyebrows shot up. Megan had not ever offered to buy anything for him. Did she even have money? He hadn’t seen her get out a wallet. She must have some kind of app on her phone. “Thank you. I can pay for it though.”
She smiled and picked up her chopsticks and the Spider Roll, which had been soaking in her soy/wasabi combo. “It’s the least I can do. Consider it a birthday present. When is your birthday, again?”
“August 15th.”
“Happy early birthday, then. Try the Spider Roll. I need to know if you like it. Does Jenna like sushi? We should bring her the next time I’m in town. If she doesn’t like it, you’ll need to decide if that’s a deal breaker. It would be for me. But then, it grew on you.”
Jackson absolutely had no words to respond to the ones coming out of Megan’s mouth tonight. If he said what he wanted to, which was something along the lines of who are you, it would have ruined the mood completely. So instead he took the other piece of Spider Roll with the legs sticking up. He liked the crunch and the flavor of the crab, mild yet good.
“It’s good,” he said. “I always feel weird eating crab though. It’s not like a chicken breast, where it looks nothing like a chicken. I’m eating legs and it looks like legs.”
“I know what you mean. So, you’ll ask Jenna then? If you haven’t screwed it up somehow before I come the next time.” She rolled her eyes.
That was more like it. Jackson laughed. “I’ll ask. And try not to screw it up. No promises though. My track record isn’t so good, but I’ll do my best.”
“You’re not ugly and you’re a millionaire. If you can’t keep a woman, then something is definitely wrong with you.”
Billionaire. But Jackson didn’t correct her. She had given him more in this conversation than in any they’d ever had. He would take it. Even sandwiched between annoyed insults. His long-time crush had kissed him. His daughter was talking to him. That was more than he could have hoped for.
“You might want to keep her away from electronics or heavy machinery, though,” Megan said.
“Noted. What brought this on? I mean, why are you thinking about Jenna?” And why are you talking to me all the sudden? He wouldn’t say that one out loud, but wished he knew.
“You like her. So, I just wanted you to know. That you, like, have my approval or whatever. In case you care.”
Jackson felt a rush of emotion and swallowed before he answered, a lump in his throat. “I do,” he said, not sure if he meant that he did like Jenna, did care what Megan thought, or both.
It was definitely both.
Chapter Thirteen
When Jenna called him a few hours before their date on Sunday night, Jackson had to fight back panic. He had been waiting for things to go wrong since they had stepped out of the elevator. He hoped for the best, obviously, but in his experience, too many good things at once meant disappointment. And the conversation and the kiss had been very, very good things.
He could hear it in her voice as soon as he answered. “What’s wrong?”
Jenna sighed. “Here’s the thing: Rachel told the realtor we’d put the house on the market Saturday.”
“This Saturday? Like, this weekend. Why did she say that? She’s not even here.”
“That’s what I said. Anyway. I don’t want to cancel dinner. But … I’m also stressed out and up to my neck in boxes.”
Jackson could hear the overwhelm in her voice. “I’ve got this. You stay. I’m going to show up in a bit with supplies: food, more food, and anything else you need. What else do you need?”
“I don’t want to drag you into this. It’s depressing. And not fun.”
“You’re not dragging me into anything. You and I will make it fun—well, as fun as this task can be. Now, what can I bring?”
Her voice sounded relieved. “Besides food, which it sounds like you’ve got covered, I need some music or something. It’s too quiet over here. Everything echoes. Do you have some kind of Bluetooth speaker thing or whatever the kids are using these days? Mom didn’t have anything like that. Well, a boom box that still worked somehow. But I donated it to the Goodwill along with her horrendous music selection.”
Jackson chuckled. “I’m on it.”
“Are you sure? I mean, this is hardly a good first date.”
“If we count the elevator as our first date, then this seems like a perfectly appropriate second date. Any food preferences? Cravings? Things you hate.”
“I hate pickles. Otherwise? Surprise me.”
That wasn’t stressful at all—surprising a woman he had liked from a distance for years but barely knew. But if there was one thing Jackson could do, it was rising to the challenge, especially where Jenna was concerned. Even if that meant getting takeout and ordering one of everything. He was going to get this right.
His relationships in the past had been shallow at best. Jackson hadn’t even been on a date since he became a Christian, so he didn’t know what this looked like in reality. The three guys he trusted as examples—Beau, Jimmy, and Cash—weren’t dating anyone. Well, Jimmy was, but Jackson was just waiting for him to announce that he broke up with Amber. He was clearly still hung up on his ex.
Jackson hadn’t really seen a great example of what it looked like to date seriously, intentionally, and with God as part of the equation. But he knew that he wanted to treasure Jenna, to woo her, to win her over. He wanted this to end with her walking down the aisle toward him. That thought should have shocked him, but it only got him more excited.
Yeah, it was fast. But they weren’t kids with no experience. He hadn’t met her and fallen in insta-love. But he knew Jenna had—up until a few days ago—acted like he was gum on the bottom of her shoe. It seemed like he was finally getting the second chance he wanted. And then some. It terrified him, but Jackson felt more determined than ever. Pushing had worked, so he would keep on pushing until he got past all her walls and found his way to her heart.
Jenna felt a giddy, girlish excitement to see Jackson on the porch. She meant to play it cool, especially considering they hadn’t talked yet about where they stood. Instead she opened the door and launched herself at him. He took a step back, thankfully not falling off the front porch, and shifted the bags in his arms, doing his best to return the embrace with no free hands. With her face pressed into his neck, she felt suddenly shy.
“Hey,” she said, her lips barely grazing against the stubble on his neck. Did he always have that amazing five o’clock shadow? How often did he have to shave? These were questions she wanted answered. If not right now, very soon.
He chuckled. “This is the best greeting I’ve had maybe ever. Hey right back at you.” When Jenna didn’t make a move to let go of him, he shifted on his feet. “Not that I’m complaining per se, but these bags aren’t getting any lighter. I’d love to be able to hug you back.”
Jenna pulled away and grinned at him. “Were all those muscles just for show? You can’t lift a few grocery store bags yourself?”
“Oh, you noticed my muscles, huh?”
“No. Maybe. It’s not like you aren’t aware that you have them.”
Jackson just gaped at her while she swiped one of the bags from his hand and darted into the house. She giggled, hearing him chase after her to the kitchen, where they both arrived a little breathless and grinning. Jackson set his bags down on the floor and walked purposefully toward Jenna.
/> “Now I can give you a proper hug.” He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her waist and bending his head to the place where her shoulder met her neck. “With my muscles.”
She giggled again and he smiled, lips tracing over her skin and sending shivers all the way down her legs. “How did you get in such good shape, anyway?”
He stiffened against her and didn’t answer right away. Touchy subject?
“I have a punching bag under the house. And I work out with Beau and Jimmy at the station sometimes.”
The answer sounded somewhat innocuous, but Jenna could feel the tension in his body. There was some back story, but she wasn’t going to push him for it. Not yet. She rubbed her hands up and down his back. “Ready to get to work?”
Jackson pulled away suddenly. Placing his hands on either side of her face, he was suddenly serious. “I need something from you, Monroe.”
Her heart pounded at his intensity. “Anything. Well, within reason. You strike me as a reasonable man.”
“I’m pretty unreasonable most of the time, but this one thing should be simple.” He paused. “I need a kiss from you in the daylight. To be sure that what happened yesterday in the elevator wasn’t a dream.”
“I need that too,” Jenna said. “I’ve been afraid you might regret—”
Before she could finish the sentence, his lips were on hers, the sweetest interruption. Where yesterday there had been feverish passion full of unspoken words, this kiss felt languid and unhurried. His lips pressed lightly against hers, never settling for long, leaving her breathless and light-headed.
He pulled only far enough away to rest his forehead on hers, his breath feather-light against her cheek.
“No regrets,” Jackson said. “Other than wishing I hadn’t waited so long. Sometimes I think—what if I had told you how I felt back then?”
“I’m not sure we were the people we needed to be back then. It may not have worked at all. It’s hard to play the what-if game.”
Sandover Beach Memories Page 13
