Mom and Amber said nothing, and I was somewhat confused too, so I just said, “I see. And the girls …?”
“With my brother,” he said.
“How is your brother?” Mom asked. “And April?”
“Is she the one who can’t get enough of festooning everything in sight with holiday glitter?” Helen barked from behind me. “She’s like a fucking Christmas elf. I liked her better when she was grumpy.”
Cormac chuckled, his golden eyes twinkling in the low evening light. “That’s her, yeah. And she and my brother are doing well. They’re talking about starting a family.”
Mom clapped her hands in front of her and squealed, and Helen grumbled, “settle down, Lottie.”
I smiled, but it was a little bit uncomfortable to hear about April and Callan’s family plans. I knew Mom had figured that with three daughters she’d get lots of grand babies to spoil, and with my dad gone, I knew she was lonely. This had been part of my assumption too—that the family I’d have would naturally materialize, filling the gaping holes not just in my own life, but in Mom’s too. And my inability to find that family was letting her down, keeping us both lonely.
“You want to walk a bit?” Cormac asked me, his voice low for only me to hear. “Maybe take Luke over to see the girls?”
There was a war raging inside me. I wanted Cormac. It was silly to pretend that wasn’t true. But wanting him and knowing the timing was all wrong for us both only made me more convinced that I absolutely had to take that job in Baltimore. Surely if I opened up my opportunities I could find a hundred guys like Cormac, men who were available and interesting and ready to find all the things I wanted. It was no more fair to him to stay here and keep forcing this tension between us than it was to my mother or myself to keep hoping against all evidence that I’d be able to find what I wanted in the tiny town of Singletree. It just wasn’t going to happen.
“Sure,” I said, smiling up at Cormac. Who, I reminded myself, would only ever be my friend. “I’m going for a walk,” I called over my shoulder.
We strolled the perimeter of the grassy expanse, moving slowly and letting Luke smell everything we passed and even eat a taco someone had dropped on the ground.
“Watching him eat that kinda makes me glad he’s going home with you,” Cormac said, his voice full of mirth. “Guaranteed dog farts in a crispy crunchy shell right there.”
“Wonderful,” I laughed. “Luke might be sleeping outside tonight.”
“You want one?” Cormac asked, nodding his head at the taco truck near Luke’s lucky find.
I lifted a shoulder, my stomach grumbling as I thought about a taco. “Yeah, actually.”
“Let’s grab some for the girls and my brother. He and April wouldn’t let me bring anything. I think they think I’m some kind of sad sack they have to babysit.”
As we ordered and collected the tacos the man handed us through the little food truck window, I frowned at Cormac. “What do you mean?”
“They just worry about me, I guess. Since everything with Linda.”
“Oh, yeah.” I really didn’t know how to talk about his late wife, or if it was even appropriate for me to ask questions about her, so I stayed quiet, holding Luke’s leash as Cormac carried the box of tacos.
“It’s been hard,” he said. “Lonely, you know?”
Tingles were skipping through me like busy little gnats, grabbing my attention and pulling it where I did not want it to go—my own loneliness, the connection I felt with this man. “Yeah,” I managed to say.
The sun had sunk below the trees at the far edge of the field, and a speaker crackled as a voice rolled through the crowd.
“Welcome Singletons!” The voice called out.
The fact that the town of Singletree referred to its residents as “Singletons” was like an ironic little slap in the face, forcing me to continually examine my own solitude.
“For those who don’t know me, I’m Mayor Bob John Rickles, and I want to welcome you to our pre-Cherry Blossom Festival Movie Night!”
The crowd hooted and clapped, and Cormac and I found his family in the growing darkness and sat at the edge of a quilt next to the girls. Maddie jumped up and ran to hug Luke, while Taylor watched me with suspicion, one hand on the tail of the enormous stuffed kangaroo and the other holding a cupcake.
“We’ve got a family friendly movie tonight, folks, and I can’t wait to watch it with you. So without further yahoo, let’s roll Mary Poppins!”
The rest of the crowd cat-called and cheered as Cormac lowered his head and whispered in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. “Isn’t the saying, ‘without further ado’?”
“It is,” I confirmed. “This town is weird. You just have to accept it.”
He stared at me for a minute, the lights strung around the edges of the field providing just enough of a glow for me to see his features. He didn’t say anything else, but after a second of holding our gazes locked, we both leaned physically away from one another, and I felt my whole body crumple slightly at the release of tension.
“Hey,” April said, moving close to where I sat as the movie began. The girls clambered into Cormac’s lap, and we both watched him try to eat a taco with his arms full of little girl. The enormous kangaroo stood like a stern guardian over our little group.
“Can someone move the dang panda bear?” Someone behind us yelled.
“It’s a wallaby!” That last voice was undoubtedly Helen Manchester, surprisingly boisterous for a ninety-year-old.
Callan got up and laid Frederick down so his head was in his brother’s lap along with the girls.
“How are you, Paige?” April asked. “Glass of wine?”
“Sure,” I said, sorry I’d left my tumbler back on Mom’s blanket. I accepted the plastic wine glass she proffered with a smile. “I’m doing great. How are you guys?”
She smiled brightly. “Really good.” Her gaze slid over the expanse of townspeople lounging on the grass on a warm spring evening. “I actually really love it here, which is so crazy. I hated it when I first arrived.”
“Well, it is a little crazy. Takes some getting used to.”
“It does,” she said. “I can’t imagine growing up here though. You’re so lucky to have had that kind of childhood. Like the girls are getting.”
“It was a nice place to grow up. Safe, kind of old fashioned.”
“Yeah,” she said wistfully. “I want our kids to grow up here.”
We were quiet a moment.
“So,” she said in a whisper. “What’s going on with you and Mac?”
I turned my head quickly in surprise. “Nothing. Just neighbors. Friends.” The words felt clunky coming out of my mouth. “I’m helping with the dog allergies is all.” Was I that obvious?
“It seems like a lot more,” she said, glancing at him to make sure he wasn’t listening. “I’ve actually never seen him happier.”
“Well, I think the girls are a lot happier with Luke around. At least according to him. I’m sure that makes a difference in his mood too.”
“No,” April said slowly. “I think it’s you. I think he likes you.”
I sighed, and looked at April, wanting to confide in her, but not very sure what to say. We barely knew each other, after all.
She went on. “I think you like him too.”
It was too hard to pretend anything else. Being honest wouldn’t change anything. “We’ve talked about it. The timing’s all wrong. It wouldn’t work.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “Callan and I were the picture of impossible when we met. It can work.” When I didn’t answer, she gave me a narrow-eyed look. “But if the timing were right?”
I shrugged and played with the plastic cup of wine, unsure what to say. There was no point to it. It wouldn’t work.
“Hey Cal,” April said, a little louder to get her fiancé’s attention.
“Yeah?” He looked over and so did Cormac.
“I just remembered I can�
�t go to dinner tomorrow after all. Ryan needs me for a thing.”
Oh god, what was she doing? Her voice was practically a stage whisper. April was playing matchmaker. And while it was embarrassing, a little flutter of hope sprang to life in me.
“On a Sunday night? April, those reservations weren’t easy to get.”
“Maybe Cormac can use them?”
Callan and Cormac talked quietly for a minute and I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but April was watching them with a satisfied look on her face. She pointedly did not look at me, probably knowing I might be unhappy with this obvious attempt at matchmaking.
Then Cormac leaned over. “Callan thinks we should take their reservation tomorrow. Want to have dinner?”
I turned to April, who was wearing a very satisfied expression.
“Sure,” I said softly.
I did want to have dinner with Cormac. Hell, I was pretty sure I wanted to have babies with Cormac. But that wasn’t reality. Would it hurt things to continue pretending it was all possible for another night?
Dinner with Lurch
Cormac
April and Callan essentially set us up.
On a date.
I knew it, Paige knew it, and it was so obvious I was pretty certain that Frederick the kangaroo knew it.
The girls went to Callan’s house while Luke and Bobo stayed in Paige’s yard, thanks to the warming weather, and I went to pick up Paige at five o’clock. We were driving up to Washington to take the reservation Callan and April had managed to get at some swanky hotel restaurant that had just opened. As a couple, April and Cal seemed to always know about the next hot thing, in part because of his connection to soccer stars and hers to movie stars. Callan had renewed his connections to his old team, the South Bay Sharks, and April was working for Ryan McDonnell’s production company, so she rubbed elbows with celebrities all the time. If there was a power couple in Singletree, they were probably it.
“Hi,” Paige said, opening her door just as I was about to knock.
Holy kangaroos. “Wow. Hi.” The dress Paige wore had stolen my capacity for anything beyond single-syllable words. It was a snug sweater dress, in a shade of pink that made her blue eyes glow like sapphires. It hugged her curves and the hem met the tops of the sexiest brown boots I’d ever seen—not that I knew a hell of a lot about fashion. But fuck if those boots weren’t giving me ideas about where else she might wear them. Her hair was soft around her face, hanging over her shoulders in waves, and she just radiated, standing there before me. “Um.”
Good, this was going so well.
“You look great,” she said, offering an example of words that would have been appropriate when put in sequence.
I can do this.
“Um.” Again? Fuck. “So do you. Like, phenomenally great.”
Better. Kind of.
“Are you ready to go?” I managed, wondering if I’d be capable of driving with her sitting next to me.
“I am,” she said, stepping out and then turning to lock the door. When she turned and leaned slightly forward, I got a view of her perfect ass in the clingy sweater dress, and I had to fight to keep my hands from reaching for her.
Why weren’t we dating, again?
Oh right. Because she was going to leave, and my family would definitely not survive another woman leaving us. Neither would my heart. And because I’d told her reflexively that it wasn’t the right time when it had first come up.
But fuck if my body didn’t think it might be worth the risk.
Dinner, Cormac. You’re only having dinner.
“Let’s go have dinner,” I said, as if to remind myself of what the plan was.
She smiled at me as we walked toward my car, and I pulled the door open for her, watching in fascination as she folded her tall lithe body into the passenger seat and smiled up at me again.
I could do this.
I shut her door, went to the other side, and soon we were cruising north.
“So tell me again why April gave up a reservation at Patank. And how we ended up with it.” she said.
“Sheer luck, I guess. Or you know, an attempt to rescue the lonely widower?” I risked a look at her and found her smiling at me—pretty. Perfect. I swallowed hard. “Callan can always manage to get reservations though, ex-soccer star and all that. I’m not sure what April had to do that kept them from using it.”
“Our good fortune, I guess.” Paige’s voice was quieter, and I wondered if I shouldn’t have acknowledged that April was trying to set us up.
“Yeah,” I agreed, slipping into conversational deficit once again as Paige’s perfume found its way to my side of the car’s cab.
“I’ve read about this place,” she said. “It’s super swanky—very trendy. I guess the chef is really into molecular gastronomy.”
That caught my attention and I shot her a look. “That doesn’t sound good.” I wasn’t sure what molecular gastronomy was, but it sounded a lot like not cooking. “They serve actual food, though, right?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s just that he’s really into playing with presentation and using gasses and chemicals to alter the physical properties of different ingredients.”
“That sounds highly questionable,” I said, my stomach starting to worry there might not be actual dinner at the end of this long drive.
“I think it’ll be exciting. I used to watch a show on the Food Network about this kind of cooking.”
I glanced at Paige, whose face was glowing with excited anticipation. “Okay,” I said, settling a bit. Anything that could make her look that happy seemed okay to me.
We pulled up to the restaurant about an hour later, snagging a parking spot at the curb not far from the front door. Luck, it seemed, was on our side.
The trees at the edge of the sidewalks in Washington D.C. were beginning to bloom, and there was a vague fragrance of blossoms in the air. As I helped Paige from the car, she slipped her hand into mine, and once she’d found her footing, I didn’t let go. I should have, I knew I should have. But she was here, looking so completely perfect in the pink dress and glowing smile, and she smelled good, and we were on a real date in a real city … and I just wanted to enjoy it.
For one night, I decided I could forget I was a single father with more responsibility and worry than I’d ever thought I could handle. For one night, I was going to be Cormac—not Daddy—and I was going to eat weird molecular food with the most beautiful woman I’d met since my wife. And I was not going to let myself feel guilty or worried or selfish.
I smiled at Paige as I pulled open the glass and metal door to Patank, and we went inside.
After giving my brother’s name to the hostess, she gave me a skeptical once-over, clearly recognizing the name and deciding I did not look much like a soccer player. Still, Cal and I looked enough alike that I figured she might just think he’d let himself go a bit. Though really, I didn’t think I was in terrible shape. I didn’t run like Paige did, but I boxed now and then, taking out all my frustration on the heavy bag hung in the garage. I did all right, I thought.
We were seated at a corner table where the light was dim and the sounds of the main restaurant area were distant and quiet. The whole place was strangely subdued, a bizarre kind of chime-filled music playing over the speakers above. The hostess smiled as we sat and said, “someone will be with you soon.”
Paige looked around after she’d left. “There are no menus.”
I frowned. That seemed like a bad sign. This was, however, a restaurant. I was pretty sure there’d be food involved. “Maybe it’s a set menu?” I hoped not. I wanted a steak.
“Good evening.” A man appeared at the edge of our table, holding a tray just high enough that we couldn’t see what it contained from our seated positions. It appeared to be smoking, however. The man could have been in the Adams Family movie—his skin was so pale he was nearly translucent, and his eyes were a bright and somewhat unsettling shade of violet. His dark hair was slicked back
with something that might have been motor oil, and it shone under the lights hanging overhead. “I have an aperitif for you. Gin and mint foam with Cointreau spheres and an infusion of lavender.”
Oh. It was going to be like that, was it?
He set the tiny shot glasses in front of each of us, a kind of purple foam on top of each one sending little puffs into the air like dry ice. There were capsules floating in the clear liquid at the bottom of the glass, and I was highly suspicious of the whole setup.
Paige looked charmed though, and she met my eyes with her excited gaze, a smile taking over her lovely face. My guard fell and I lifted the little glass, touching it to hers.
“Cheers,” she said, and we both sipped the shots as the ghastly server looked on.
Drinking steaming foam turns out to be a lot like swallowing flavored air, and that part of the drink was easy enough to get through. But the tiny spheres lodged in my throat as the gin swished down, and I coughed a little, trying not to launch into an all-out gag and retching session here at the table. I didn’t like my drink encapsulated in bubbles, thankyouverymuch.
“That was lovely,” Paige told Uncle Fester’s cousin as he leaned back over the table to collect the tiny glasses. He smiled approvingly at Paige and raised an eyebrow at me. I had failed the tiny-drink appreciation test.
Without a word, Lurch turned and left.
“That was …” I began.
“This is so interesting,” Paige said, her voice light and her smile so completely infectious that I lost the snarky words that had been on my tongue. “I can’t wait to see what else they bring. It’s always nice to go to dinner, but this is almost like a show. An experience. Isn’t it wild?”
I could agree with that. “Definitely wild. I’m just not sure I like the tiny little bubbles in my drink,” I said.
“Kind of like boba tea.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I’ve had that exactly once, and I should have been tipped off by the giant straw that came with it. How exactly are you supposed to drink that stuff?”
Second Chance Spring Page 12
