Like Father Like Son

by Lennon, Leigh

  Her eyes continue to scorch me. “Did he also say how he came out to this dock the day he found out and got so drunk he slept here? Or how he sent flowers to the funeral home. I read every card and his was one of the most touching condolences.”

  Like stripping down a house to its studs, this girl has done the same to me. But I can’t let her see me sweat. I have been working with what I’d known. Josh Elton is a man whore.

  Her downturned lips are another indication of her mood.

  “If I say I’m sorry, can we enjoy our afternoon at the lake?” I ask.

  She’s tapping her fingers on the wood of the dock. “Let’s see, I’m waiting,” she croons, her lips turning upward into a brilliant smile. This girl loves to see me eat crow.

  Her perfect dimpled cheeks and the way her nose twitches when she wants something makes me ache for her more pronounced than the last time and the time before that. I extend my arms to her, and she takes them, bringing her up to eye level. “Darlin’, please forgive me,” I say the moment her face is in front of my own.

  “Well, that’s all I wanted.” Her head is held high, proud she’s gotten what she wants. “Now, we can enjoy our day together.” She sits down smugly in one of the chairs Josh brought onto the dock. Her breasts are fuller in her bikini top. She’s on the shorter side, but her legs seem a mile long leading to her bottom.

  She fixates on the beer in my hands. “Fiddlesticks. Your beer looks so good.”

  This girl loves messing with me so much, too much. I seize this opportunity to repay the favor. I take a long swig of the cold brew. “Yep, it’s what I need on a hot day like today.” Sitting down close to her, she swipes at my arm, playfully smacking it, but shit, she has a nice swing.

  “For a little girl, you hit pretty well,” I tease, leaning over to retrieve something she can drink.

  “Yeah, I’ll get you, Maguire Parrish, don’t turn your back for one second, I’ll get you.” She happily takes the lemonade.

  “Should I lock my door at night?” I ask.

  Tapping the bottom of her chin, she pauses, giving me an I’m in deep thought kind of look. “It depends, but I’d sleep with one eye open.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” Turning to her, I attempt to delve into something more serious. “By the way, have you heard from your parents since you’ve been here?”

  When Holland’s upset, she tosses her head back, eyes closed as if she’s taking in a cleansing breath. I give her time to answer, the ability to form her words. The hurt she displays from her pinching the bridge of her nose to a tear forming in the corner of her eyes illustrates this is a deep-seated pain.

  “I texted when we got here, to let them know I made it to California. I texted Sarah before my parents to let Mark and her know we arrived safely.” Her speech is shaky. “Can you believe that my best friend is more my family than my own parents?” She stops, her head turns down with her explanation. “I thought I’d tell them about the baby, but they’d only mention it to Christine if my mom bumped into her.”

  I have promised Holland I’ll tell Chris but only after the first trimester. I didn’t think Chris could survive if she was told about this gift and something happened. I know I wouldn’t, and Holland would be destroyed.

  “I’m sorry, darlin’.” I want to pull her to me, telling her she’d never be alone again. I have her and I’m not letting go anytime soon. But is it a promise I can make? One day, she’ll find someone who sees her, the whole Holland and will scoop her up. She won’t be mine—she can’t be mine. Until the day comes, I’ll treasure this woman with all I have.

  “I don’t get it. I mean, this baby inside of me is my whole world. And I think it’ll multiply a hundred times over when I hold him or her for the first time. Why can’t they love me the way I deserve?” She turns her head away. “ And it makes me wonder, how can I be a good mom when I never witnessed what a mom really is.”

  The pain in her voice settles into the pit of my stomach and I’m gripped with the same sadness. She’s a part of me in some way. Maybe it’s through her love for Scott or carrying my grandchild. Possibly it’s simply because of the feelings she evokes within me. Her agony is mine.

  I stand, only to walk toward her and kneel at her side. “Your love for your baby already is so evident. It’s only going to grow. And though it’s hard to think about, when you go without—it’s how you know you’ll do better than those shitheads you called parents.” I want to wrap her in my arms, but I contain myself because the temptation is too high. “I need you to understand it’s their fucking loss. You’re the best thing in their lives and if they’re too stupid to realize it, fuck them, fuck them all.”

  A wickedly devious smile peeks through the slits of her eyes. The shine and glimmer from her stare are always the indications something is coming.

  She lets a little giggle out when she begins, “Yeah, fuck them, fuck them all.”

  “Ah, that’s the spirit and I’ll let this one slide, darlin’.”

  A broader smile than before takes over her face. “Yeah, thought you might.”

  Chapter 21

  In the five weeks she’s lived in my house, it’s been so very comfortable with her, and I have loved every minute of it. I learned right away she’s not a morning person. She can make a kick-ass cup of coffee but hates the sludge as she calls it. The color palette of her outfits gets crazier later in the week. On Monday, they’re pretty muted, but by Friday they’re plain loud. And unicorns, the girl is obsessed with unicorns from the many pairs of leggings she owns, to her wallet and hell, she has about fifty unicorn pens strung around my house. This brings me to another flaw of hers that should bother me. She’s a slob, leaves towels all over the place. The girl can’t cook to save her life. She drinks a gallon of orange juice like water and she plays her music too fucking loud. But her smile takes away my sadness. She sings beautifully as she walks around the house and she’s easy to talk to.

  When I get the all clear from the contractor that the apartment is completed, I’m sad to have my roommate moving out of my house.

  I’m standing in the doorway watching her pick up the array of dirty clothes on the floor. “You want to wash them here?”

  “Why? I can be a slob at my own place,” she begins, and I stifle a laugh because she’s right. Almost all the furniture is in the apartment. She wouldn’t let me buy her a couch or a mattress. Using her first couple of paychecks, she had them both delivered yesterday. Plus, she has been stubborn about dishes, glasses, and silverware. Every day we get home, more items for her apartment are delivered from Amazon. With her flair for design, I’m not sure what to expect.

  The table Scott and I made for her had been delivered weeks ago with other stuff she kept. The contractor and I moved all of it up the narrow staircase two days ago. She’s waited to see the house completely finished from the last time I showed it to her a few weeks ago. She calls it the big reveal. The girl loves her surprises.

  I take the basket of dirty clothes from her and we walk across the gravel to her new digs. “I can’t wait to see it completed.” She’s squealing like a little girl and it’s in these times I realize how young she truly is.

  Opening the door to the long hallway, she stops, taking in a deep breath. Elise came over yesterday while we were at work. She staged the house as if we were on some HGTV show. She unpacked and washed all of Holland’s dishware, displaying them on the island and the dining room table. It’s bright orange with turquoise flowers throughout the design; a little too loud for me. But it’s Holland through and through. The paintings I commissioned our in-house artist to create are beautiful. There’s one of her and Scott on their wedding day. I didn’t know how it would look as a painting, but it’s priceless, as is the look on her face when she walks over to touch it.

  Holland whips her head back to me. “This is all Mira, isn’t it?” she asks.

  “Yeah, darlin’, she did all of them.” The rest is a
paisley print of blues, light browns and orange abstract prints. The long brown suede sectional is perfect against the wall of windows. What she’s not expecting is the bench in the front of the apartment with a bay window.

  “This is new.”

  I shrug. Yeah, it was my own special surprise for Holland. It cost quite a bit more, but when she mentioned she loved the same set-up at Ned and Elise’s house, I knew I’d give her this.

  “It’s perfect.”

  On further inspection, she sees her own work in the apartment too. Elise snagged some of the pillows she made in excess for our in-house sales woman to sell. “Elise, right?”

  My nod answers her. Her eyes then focus on the rocking chair I made her for the living room. It’s a deep brown wood, matching the wood of the table Scott had made her years ago. The dining room table sits behind the rocking chair between the kitchen and the den.

  “I can’t wait to see more.” She takes off and I follow her to the bathroom, sitting between the kitchen and her master bedroom. It’s long and narrow with a tub for the baby, painted light blue similar to the rest of the house.

  In her room, she’d already known the color would be light purple along with the frame I’d made. But Elise grabbed some of Holland’s thousand thread sheets she makes flawlessly along with a duvet she’d designed for a client. Unbeknownst to her, it had been Elise who ordered it. The fabric is a deep purple with large daisies and lilies. In the room, Elise hung up more artwork by Mira. Holland touches every new item, walking around.

  “The baby’s room isn’t finished yet,” I mention. “The dresser is moved in there, still the same gray grain as the rest of the baby’s furniture. We’re still working on the crib design for a new baby division of the company.”

  “Maguire, it’s perfect. I don’t know what to say. And that sneaky little Elise, I’ll have to get on her tomorrow when we meet for lunch.”

  Why does it bother me so much about her plans with someone else? And with Elise of all people? It’s like I want her to rely on me to fulfill everything she needs—me and me alone. But that’s tomorrow and today, well, we still have today. “So, this calls for a celebration. Why don’t I cook for you? Or I can take you out. Your choice.”

  “Oh, fiddlesticks, I can’t tonight. Teagan, Josh, and I have plans. We’re celebrating my new place.”

  I’m not one to get my feelings hurt, but this stings to the core. I’d planned on cooking dinner in her new kitchen—if she wanted to stay in. Or I’d take her out for steak—that’s something that puts a huge smile on her face.

  Instead, I fake and fake it very well. “Oh, that’s great, darlin’. You deserve a night out instead of hanging out with this old fogy.”

  She playfully hits me and again, there’s nothing playful about the way this girl hits. “You’re not an old fogy, not to me, Sarge, and you know how I love hanging out with you.” She stops, looking down at the floor. “Maybe tomorrow after lunch with Elise.”

  “Sure, we’ll play it by ear. Just be careful tonight and call me if you need anything. Don’t want you out there drinking and driving.”

  Looking down at her stomach she giggles. “Yeah, well, the good thing about me is I’m the designated driver. No one knows I’m pregnant, but I’ve told them I’m not drinking. It works well.”

  I lean in to give her a kiss on the cheek, telling her to be careful one last time. I leave and I’ve never felt more alone.

  This could be a colossal mistake, but I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her a lot. I hadn’t given much thought to the void she’s filled in my heart. I don’t want to fuck her just to fulfill a desire I’m not getting. I want to hang out with her. Picking up the phone, I hit her name on my screen and when I think it’ll go to voice mail, she answers.

  “Hey, stranger.”

  “Hey there, sweetheart.” It’s Kat and she’s quiet, doesn’t say a word. “Listen, I could come up with a million reasons I’ve not called you for the past several weeks. The bottom line is, I’m an ass.”

  She chuckles on the other end. “I feel bad calling you an ass with all you’ve been through but yeah, M, you’ve been a grade-A dickhead. I mean, I’ve tried to understand.”

  “I have some explaining to do. Would you like to come over for some dinner? But let me be straight up with you. It’s not a hook-up I’m looking for.”

  “M, I don’t do relationships, it’s what I liked about you.” Her tone is as even as it usually is.

  “I’m not asking for a relationship, Kat. Maybe a friendship. But senselessly fucking isn’t something I’m looking for. I mean, losing Scott, I have a new perspective… Well, shit, I didn’t want to get into it over the phone.”

  She clears her voice. “Adeline happens to be at her dad’s for the night. I’ll be over in a half hour. But let me get this straight, no sex? Right?”

  I chuckle at her. I’ve not known Kat to be this direct, but we’ve never talked much when we’re together either.

  “No, but maybe a movie?” I pause, wondering what her reaction will be.

  “Yeah, M, I’d love to watch a movie with you. I’ll see you soon.” She ends the call and I go to the fridge, deciding to make chicken quesadillas. It doesn’t seem right to make the steak I bought Holland—for another woman.

  Kat is knocking on my sliding glass door about thirty minutes later. I’m done sautéing the chicken, adding the cheese and mushrooms to the pan. From the corner of my eye, I notice one of Holland’s unicorn pens on the counter. I can’t escape her.

  In front of the window, I take in everything that’s Kat Stephens. She’s tall and a little too skinny. She has these rocking huge boobs she told me was one of her parting gifts from her ex-husband. She took him for all she could with his cheating ways and apparently an excellent boob job was one of them. She’s always meticulous in appearance. Even if she’s in a pair of yoga pants, she’s a knockout. If I hadn’t been left damaged and if Kat’s ex-husband hadn’t left her unable to trust everyone, we may have been able to build something. Of course, it doesn’t help I’m falling in love with a girl I can never have.

  “Kat.” I open up my arms for a hug and she walks past me. “Well, shit, you didn’t sound this pissed on the phone.”

  Her hands are on her hips. “Yeah, the more I thought about it, the madder I’ve become. We had a great thing, M, getting what we needed. Why change it? Why have you ignored me?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Things change, Kat. I mean, with Scott’s passing, I have perspective. Guess you can say I want to have something I can build on.”

  “And this is your way of telling me you do—or don’t—want it to be with me?”

  Am I saying this? I can’t have the person I want and I know this long-term. “No, I mean—hell, I don’t know, Kat. But I don’t want to lose you as a friend. If things progress because we care for one another and just not the next orgasm, then great, but if not, I want to keep you in my life.”

  Her pretty face tells me I’m out of the doghouse when her lips pull into a small grin. “You’re a good man, Maguire Parrish.” It’s then, she hugs me. “Yeah, I don’t want to lose you either. So, what are you feeding me for dinner?”

  She makes herself at home, grabbing beers for both of us. After constructing the quesadillas, I sit down, and we fall into an easy-going banter back and forth.

  It’s a double-edged sword being out with people my age, but again I’m the only one sober. Josh invited his older brother, Jase, who’s home from college for the weekend. He’s a little older than I am. I can’t help but notice he doesn’t take his eyes off of me the whole night. He’s good looking, better looking than Josh which I thought was impossible. Josh, in his own right, is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. With Jase, he’s blond, blue-eyed, and built like a bodybuilder.

  But it’s uncomfortable, too. It’s been less than three months since I’ve received the news about Scott. I’m not even remotely ready to start over—that is if I e
ver am. Plus, I have a passenger along for the ride, no one wants to be saddled with.

  With Teagan and Josh on the floor dancing to House of Pain’s “Jump Around,” I’m at our table watching them. Teagan’s turning the eyes of many on the floor, but as I’ve come to witness, she’s very proud of her sexuality. She’ll come straight out and say, “You don’t have the right parts for me, honey.” And then she walks away, leaving every man speechless.

  Jase sits down, his cologne fills the air near me. It’s so different than Maguire’s. It smells expensive, a little citrus mixed in. His smile is one an orthodontist could trademark. “Hey, Holland,” he says, talking a little over the music.

  “Hey, look at your brother and Teagan go. If I didn’t know them, I’d think they were a couple.”

  He begins to giggle and this little response of his makes him more attractive. “I’m going to tell you something and both Teagan and Josh would kill me if they knew I told you.” I wait, this must be good. “Our parents were the best of friends. They both wanted Josh and Teagan to marry. I’m serious, if arranged marriages existed, they would have been betrothed. Both our moms decided they needed to be in activities together to strengthen the bond. They enrolled them in dance lessons.”

  I’m watching them move as if they own one another. I’m laughing at a young Josh and Teagan being forced into something like this. “I’m guessing they didn’t take it well.”

  “Ha, if you knew our moms, you’d understand Teagan and Josh didn’t stand a fighting chance. So, that’s why they can move like that. They went on to win many awards together.”

  “Hell, they look like Baby and Johnny out there.” I’m laughing so hard when I sense Jase’s intense gaze on me. I turn away because I can’t take it.

  “Shit, Holland. I’m so sorry. I can’t take my eyes off of you. I’m such an ass. I know you’ve had to have noticed.”