Feels Like the First Time

by Marina Adair

  And there was something about seeing her there, in Ali’s childhood home, finally claiming the seat Ali had been waiting a lifetime for her to claim, that sent a warm burst of hope into her chest. “Thank you.”

  “Is it similar to the one you sold Mr. Landon?” Bridget asked, referring to the piece that was to be showcased in Architectural Digest.

  “Nolan wanted something more modern,” Ali said about her biggest customer to date. He’d seen the town arch during his last visit to see Hawk and hired her on the spot. Her assignment had been to design an elaborate fifteen-hundred-square-foot pergola. “He wanted steel beams, stone, and local woods to match the feel of his house.” Estate really. Fifty acres of manicured gardens and rugged woods with a view of the ocean that was worth the eight-figure price tag. “It’s a structure actually, a piece of functional art where he can host gatherings.”

  “It took her six months to build,” Gail said, and Marty snorted.

  Ali was touched that her mom was so interested in her work, she really was, but to be honest, her mother didn’t know a thing about her work—or Ali’s life. If it hadn’t been for the puff piece written up about Nolan in the Seattle Times last month, Gail wouldn’t have even known about the biggest piece of her career.

  Before the divorce was even final, Gail and Bridget had moved to Seattle. Ali stayed with her dad in Destiny Bay, and her mom, too busy enjoying her green pastures being married to a plastic surgeon, didn’t have the time for Ali.

  They might as well have been nothing more than acquaintances, for as much interest as Gail took in Ali’s life.

  But she’s here now, Ali told herself. Not allowing herself to be naïve didn’t mean closing herself off to the potential of what the evening could mean.

  “It took almost a year from beginning to end.” It had also taken sixteen steel beams, thirty-four rods, shiplap from an old barn, and a roof made of stones and sea glass, but the result had been stunning.

  The centerpiece for Ali’s portfolio.

  That one referral from Hawk had gained her access to a unique group of clientele. In fact, the client she was making the keg fountain for was a friend of Nolan and Hawk’s.

  “I bet you really got to know Nolan well, working with him that long. Maybe even became friends,” Bridget said, in that singsong tone that always had Ali’s ears bleeding.

  “We’re cool with each other, and yeah, he’s a nice guy, but I wouldn’t say we were friends.” She paused, because the longer she talked, the bigger her sister’s eyes got—and the worse Ali’s headache grew. “Oh no. No way. I am not playing matchmaker and introducing you to Nolan!”

  Been there, done that, still had the bridesmaid dress hanging in the closet.

  “I’m not looking to date Nolan,” Bridget said, sounding disgusted. “I already did the local guy makes it big thing. It wasn’t for me.”

  It would have been nice if she’d figured that out before she married Hawk. Then again, Bridget always did have a hard time settling on which flavor of ice cream she wanted. She’d order strawberry and Ali would order pineapple sherbet, then Bridget would decide she’d wanted the pineapple sherbet. One lick in and she’d remember she hated pineapple anything.

  But tossing a cone away and tossing a relationship away were two very different things. Bridget’s inability to know her own mind had left a wake of disappointment and disillusionment in her past.

  Gail claimed her older daughter was merely particular. Ali tended to think of her sister as lost. Someone who relied on other people’s dreams, mainly men, to fill the emptiness and find validation. A series of drive-through dads could do that to a girl. And with the split-custody arrangement, she rarely saw Marty after the divorce. Which was why, even though Ali hadn’t had a lot in terms of money growing up, she valued the importance of a father’s love.

  Understood how influential that kind of stable foundation was to a girl’s self-worth.

  “Well, good because dating Nolan would be”—she thought of Hawk and his friendship with Nolan—“awkward.”

  “I don’t want to date him. I want to meet him.” Bridget scooted to the end of her chair, and that was when Ali noticed that while Bridget and Gail sat at the family table, Marty and Ali were standing awkwardly in their own house. “So I can see if he’d be open to having an event there.”

  A thin strip of panic slowly coiled itself around Ali’s throat. “I already told you, my friends will have one in town, probably at Hawk’s bar.”

  Speaking of friends, Ali looked at the door, wondering where her backup was.

  “I’m talking about an event that needs a bigger venue. One that could host five hundred people.”

  The panic gave a sharp tug, making it really hard to breathe. “Five hundred people?”

  It had taken Ali all week to be okay with the idea of a fun girls’ night at the local watering hole. The only thing she disliked more than parties were parties for her.

  Oh, and people.

  Ali really, really didn’t like people. Especially when they were gathered in big groups and smiling—at her. As if it were her duty to entertain them. Which, in Ali’s opinion, was the stupidest expectation ever.

  First, the only party trick she’d ever mastered was a one-handed keg stand, and this didn’t seem like a keg stand kind of event. Second, the last time Gail threw Ali a party, it had been her sweet sixteen, she’d been forced to dress up like a dust ruffle, and no one from her school could make it.

  Not a one.

  Until Bridget showed up and started telling people it was going to be the party of the year. The draw of seeing what happened to “the other Marshal sister” was too much to resist. Or maybe it was that Bridget was the only girl on her cheer team who didn’t have to stuff her bra. So while Bridget stunned and impressed childhood friends, Ali spent the night playing poker with the third-string hockey players.

  Finally, and this was what had the oxygen leaving her lungs in a big whoosh, Ali didn’t want to spend her night watching Hawk watch Bridget. Sure, she said her mom and sister were on the invite list, but Ali had no intention of actually mailing out their invitations.

  Normally Ali didn’t mind being compared to her sister, but if she was forced to attend a party in her honor, and perhaps wear a dress, she didn’t want to sit on the sidelines. Ali had polished a lot of steel over the years and finally it was her turn to shine. Only the brightest star in the Marshal family was on a direct collision course with her moment.

  “I know, we originally thought seven hundred, but that number seemed a little indulgent,” Bridget said. “Jamie and I want a small wedding. Just close friends and family.”

  And that was all it took for the disappointment of a lifetime to set in. “A wedding?”

  “She’s getting married,” Gail proclaimed, that mother pride oozing out of every acid-treated pore. “Isn’t that exciting?”

  “I’m getting married!” Bridget held up her hand and wiggled her finger and—holy shitballs—Ali didn’t understand how she had missed that boulder. In her defense, she’d been distracted by the copious amounts of glitter and flash Bridget had on, but still.

  Whoa, a touch of heartburn pinched at her chest and suddenly Ali felt like she needed a seat.

  Or a stronger drink. Her chest hurt and her head ached and—

  Ali shook her head at her predictability. One small show of affection and it was as if Ali had been transported back to that eight-year-old girl, who thought that if she played the doting daughter just right, there was still that flicker of hope they could reclaim the relationship that had ended the day Gail walked out. But what if she put her best self out there and still couldn’t make her stay? Then what?

  Sadly, Ali knew that ending. Had lived it—twice. And nearly fell for it again.

  “It’s huge,” Marty said, pointing to the ring, but his gaze flickering to Ali, saying with his eyes what he couldn’t voice with the current company. That he was sorry, that he, too, had hoped for the best, that thi
s was supposed to be her night.

  “This Jamie is a…” Marty trailed off, his eyes big and imploring.

  “Man, Dad,” Bridget sighed. “Jamie is a man. He’s Irish.”

  “Well, that’s great.” Marty paused. “Not that there would be anything wrong if Jamie was a she.”

  “She’s a he,” Bridget said. “And he is fabulous.”

  “Well, then, is he coming here to talk to me tonight?” Marty said, and even though Ali knew he was concerned for her feelings, he was tickled that Bridget was including him. “I’ll be sure to go easy on him, while still making sure he knows my girl deserves to be treated right.”

  “He isn’t coming to ask for my hand, Dad. I’ve already said yes,” Bridget said. “And the wedding is a month from Saturday!”

  “A month from Saturday,” Marty said, his face going pale. “Well, that’s doable, I guess. I mean five hundred guests is a lot to plan for and a lot to shoulder, I don’t have much but—”

  “I just need you to bring your dancing shoes, Dad. Jamie has everything else covered,” Bridget said with the confidence of a woman who could only be marrying up. With her first marriage ending in a seven-figure split, Ali could only imagine what this Jamie guy brought to the table.

  “Well, what about the rehearsal dinner?”

  “Covered.”

  “Oh,” Marty said and so much was conveyed in that one word. That smile of his never faltered, even though Ali knew it took everything he had to keep it in place. “Well, I’m sure it will be a wonderful day.”

  Unlike Ali, Marty still clung to the fantasy that his love could bridge the years of heartache and separation. He charged into things flashing that smile as if he wasn’t fighting a losing battle. And there was something about his unwavering belief in love and family that tugged at Ali’s heart.

  “How about an engagement shower,” Ali asked, and when Bridget opened her mouth to probably say she’d already had sixteen different ones planned, she added, “Maybe a co-ed one.”

  “A co-ed shower? Jamie is pretty traditional.”

  “He’s marrying a two-time bride. How traditional can he be?” Ali laughed. When no one else saw the humor, she changed tactics. “One of the girls at the gym had a baby last month and they threw her and the father a co-ed shower. It was nice,” Ali lied.

  It had given her hives. All the kissy poo love and baby talk made her nauseous. But everyone else had seemed to enjoy themselves. Plus, Marty looked about ready to book the Moose Lodge; he was just waiting for Bridget to give her blessing.

  “Dad and Jamie can plan it together,” Ali suggested brightly, her eyes pleading, Let him feel like he is a part of this.

  To which Bridget gave a horrified, Did you see the flowers on the table?

  Bitch isn’t becoming on you.

  “A co-ed shower sounds nice, Dad,” Bridget said sweetly—too sweetly. “Something small and intimate. One of those hometown girl wins big-city man’s heart themes. Jamie is a big commercial developer. High-tech campuses are his specialty.” She turned to Ali, and proved that bitch was the new black. “You can invite your new friend, Nolan Landon.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t that be nice,” Gail said. “Jamie will be thrilled. He’s been angling for a meeting with the famous designer. Oh”—her smile went mischievous—“he’s bringing his brother to dinner. Stew is the best man and I bet he could help you out with what Jamie likes.” Then to Ali, “He’s handsome, a snappy dresser, successful, not as successful as Jamie, but quite charming.”

  “Every good shower needs a snappy dresser behind it,” Ali joked.

  “He’s also single.” Gail practically giggled. “I figured he would even out the partners.”

  “Partners?” Ali looked at the eight table settings and felt her right eye twitch. “So Bridget brought champagne to toast her engagement, and you brought me a blind date to my dinner. I don’t know what to say.”

  She knew exactly what she wanted to say, but yelling would only make her head throb.

  “When you told me your friends were coming, I figured it would be fun to couple up,” Gail said, giving Marty her best Hello, big boy bat of the lashes, and Ali threw up in her mouth a little.

  Because by couple up, her mother seemed to mean that she was looking for a reunion of her own. One that involved cheap beer, bad decisions, and good old reliable Marty.

  “What about Chad?”

  “Chad and I broke up months ago. I am back in the saddle, ready to go for a ride.” Gail gave an unconscious laugh that was free, full of life, and contained enough confident allure to tempt the Pope.

  Poor Marty looked as horrified as he did helpless, because while Gail had married and divorced six times—twice to Marty—her father had never been interested in dating again.

  He said he’d found his soul mate, married her twice, and both times she’d run off with the town doctor. The first was a podiatrist, the second a plastic surgeon, and he wasn’t interested in nursing a third shattered heart.

  Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off his ex-wife.

  “I’m not sure tonight was about coupling up,” Ali said. “I think I’m able to manage coupling on my own. How about you, Dad?”

  When Marty didn’t answer, Ali elbowed him. “Ali’s right. Tonight’s about celebrating our amazing daughters.”

  “Oh, are you dating someone?” Gail asked Ali, but her question was directed at Marty. “I didn’t realize.”

  “Yup, I’m dating,” Ali jumped in, saving her father from having to admit to the woman who shattered his heart that, yes, he was indeed still single. “Pretty serious, too. He runs a business in town.” And when it came to telling lies, Ali never knew when to stop shoveling, so she dug herself deeper. “Actually, he owns it. A big business guy. We met at the Destiny Bay Business Owners Association and now we go to meetings together every week.”

  “How…quaint,” Gail said.

  “Don’t you go to the meetings with Andrew Sweeney?” Marty asked, clearly not comprehending his part in the diversion. Ali having a boyfriend would (a) give Gail something to focus on instead of Marty’s dating status, and (b) save Ali from another one of her mother’s matchmaking schemes. Because being a successful businesswoman paled in comparison to being a well-married woman in Gail’s eyes.

  “Andrew Sweeney?” Gail’s brow furrowed and Ali sent her dad an Are you being serious right now? Because he’d named the only Andrew in town that Gail would remember. “Isn’t he Dan and Susan’s son?”

  “He owns the realty company in town,” Marty explained as the doorbell rang and Ali let loose a breath of relief.

  “That’s probably Kennedy and Luke,” Ali said. “I’ll be right back.”

  The doorbell rang again, confirming that her backup had indeed arrived. And just in time, too, because Gail’s eyes twinkled with recognition and she snapped her fingers. “Isn’t Andrew the gay son?”

  “All relationships have obstacles,” Ali said, then excused herself to answer the door.

  She took a quick peek out the peephole, to make sure it wasn’t her blind date, and when she saw the big red pie box blocking the view, she flung the door open.

  “I could kiss you,” she said.

  “Well, if a pie was all it took to get on your sweet side, I would have bought out Sweetie Pies years ago.”

  “You?” Ali said, her heart doing this annoying flip in her chest. Because instead of a five-foot-nothing pie maker with a box full of pie, Ali was staring down a mountain of mouthwatering muscles and yummy man who had plagued her dreams since high school. Looking like a walking ad for sex in a pair of dark button-fly jeans and a cream Henley, Hawk had a large shoulder leaned against the doorjamb, and a wicked smile aimed right at Ali.

  “Evening, sunshine,” he said, all steel and velvet.

  Ignoring the flutters that took flight, Ali crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”

  He looked at the Lexus in the driveway and grinned. “Apparently playing the hero. I didn�
�t know Gail was coming to town, and from the frazzled look on your face, neither did you.”

  The frazzled look had little to do with Gail, and everything to do with watching the people she cared about get hurt. She’d barely salvaged her dad’s night. Once Bridget realized that Hawk was there, she’d distract herself from the guilt of leaving him by either hanging on Hawk, or hanging all over Hubby 2.0. Which would leave Hawk the odd man out.

  A position that he’d worked hard to convince everyone, including himself, no longer applied. He’d played the game well, and was now considered a legendary ladies’ man around town. But Ali saw right through the new day new girl façade he’d created. He might drive her batshit crazy, but deep down Hawk was a stand-up guy. Hawk was a lot like Marty; he always saw the best in people. He was loyal, honest, and stupidly faithful. Refusing to give up on those he loved even when they didn’t deserve his devotion.

  And sadly, he was still devoted to Bridget. Who was about to pop the cork on her upcoming nuptials.

  Hawk was bound to find out. But hearing the news and seeing the ring were two different kinds of hurt. And Ali didn’t want her friend to hurt any more.

  “You can’t stay,” she said.

  He leaned a hip against the porch railing and hit her with a smile. “Two seconds ago you wanted to kiss me. Now you’re telling me to go. You’re sending off mixed signals, sunshine.”

  “Ali, who’s at the door?” Bridget called from inside. Her heels clicking against the wooden floors, counting down the seconds until utter and complete devastation.

  “Bridget is coming,” she whispered.

  “I know,” Hawk said, his eyes warm with appreciation. “You told me, remember?”

  “Ali?” her sister said, sounding even closer.

  Ali walked out on the porch and shut the front door behind her. Voice still in a whisper, she asked, “Then why did you come?”

  “Because Kennedy was swamped with orders, Luke is helping her, and you had a special pie that needed to be delivered.” He lifted the lid to showcase the doctor-approved coconut cream pie.

  “You came, knowing the evil stepsister was inside, to bring me a pie?”