“You sure? I think your parents might want you to spend the night here.”
“I’m ready to scrub my eyes out from all the kissing going on in the kitchen earlier. I have to get out of here.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go.”
Three hours later we’re at my house with Trent sacked out on the couch and Caleb and me flipping through the channels.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says.
“Nah. I don’t feel like it.”
“Well, I do. I haven’t gotten laid in months. The no-fraternization policy is killing me.”
I bow my head and drag my hands down my face, feeling exhausted.
“Hey, what’s going on with you? I noticed when I was home in October you weren’t drinking and that today water bottles replaced beer bottles. What have I missed?”
I mute the television and then spill everything I neglected to tell him whenever we talked on the phone. The picture of a playboy fantasy life I had painted was far from reality. I had told him Dahlia and I were talking, I just didn’t tell him how it happened—that she had to bail me out of jail. While I was at it I went ahead and told him about Bell, the baby, and how I walked out on her—twice. The second time because I figured out she was f**king her boss when she wasn’t f**king me.
He slumps back on the chair and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, man. You should have told me. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. Move on. What else can I do?”
“Seems like you care about her,”
I hiss a breath through my teeth and shrug.
“You could go after her, you know?”
“Sloppy seconds aren’t my style.”
“What are you, Danny Zukko?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think I’m quoting Grease?”
“Yeah, I do. What are you going to do about it?”
I lunge at him and this time when we wrestle on the floor I emerge the clear winner. I head to bed as he makes his way to the door and I call out, “I don’t need to learn your fancy martial arts moves to whip your ass.”
“I let you win,” he says under his breath.
“Fuck you,” I call.
He turns and grins. “Love you too, brother.”
I leave Trent where he is and take the steps two at a time, thinking about what Caleb said about S’belle. I fall asleep with her on my mind just as I have done every night since I saw her across the ballroom.
My phone rings before I’m even fully awake. “Yeah, this better be good,” I answer without even looking at who it is.
“Ben!”
I sit up. “Beck?”
“Sorry to wake you, man, but we have a problem.”
“What is it?” I flop back on my pillow while I’m checking the time—nine forty-five a.m. Fuck, it’s late. I never sleep this late.
“There’s a glitch in sending January’s issue of Surfer’s End to publication.”
Cradling the phone to my ear, I scrub my face. “Did you call the systems analyst?”
“Can’t reach Eric.”
“Any idea what’s going on?”
“It has to be the new encryption program Australia sent us when we went live last month.”
“Fuck! I’ll be right in.”
I hop out of bed and take a quick shower. When I head downstairs it’s quiet. There’s a note from Trent saying he went to have lunch with Dahlia, and it looks as though Caleb never came home. I rush around looking for my keys and accidentally knock Caleb’s backpack off the coffee table. The contents spill and I spot it immediately—the flash drive I gave him over a year ago. The same one he supposedly gave to Agent Bass during the drug cartel trial that the detectives said had a phone-book directory on it. I pick it up along with everything else but shove the drive in my jeans pocket before running out the door.
Traffic is light and I make it to the office in record time. When I reach Beck’s door, I can see Eric Ryan sitting at the desk with Beck hovering over him.
“Well?” I ask.
They both turn their attention to me.
“Found Eric.” Beck grins.
Eric drops his gaze and pounds the keyboard ferociously.
“I see that. And?”
“I’ll have the syntax corrected as soon as I can concentrate,” Eric mutters, his baseball cap blocking any view of his face.
“So, is it going or what?”
“Should be sent within the hour. Minor delay. Sorry I called you in,” Beck answers.
“I’m going to grab a coffee. I’ll be back in a few.” Neither one of them acknowledges me.
When I enter the break room, Ruby is sitting at the table reading on her iPad.
“Anything good?” I ask her.
She looks up. “Just the latest on government health care and fiscal crisis.”
“So early in the morning,” I joke.
I grab the pot and tip it toward her. “Want a cup?”
“No, I’ve had a few.”
“What hour did Beck drag you in?”
“It was supposed to be a two-minute stop over two hours ago.”
“Well, I think it’s under control now, so hopefully not much longer. Got plans? Christmas shopping?”
She laughs. “I wish. Actually we’re going to visit my parents.”
I nod.
“I’ve been meaning to call you,” she says. “I went to the address I had for my birth mother.”
“Oh yeah. Did you meet her?”
“No, I changed my mind once I got there. I decided I am happy with the life I have. She gave me up for a reason, and honestly not knowing just seems better than knowing now.”
I nod again. Not sure of what to say.
“I love my parents. I don’t need any other parental figures in my life. They’re enough.”
I stare at her for the longest time and it suddenly hits me—I have to believe that my child, S’belle’s and my child, is just as happy with his or her life as Ruby is with hers. I have to let that go.
“Hey, man, Eric is a wizard. Whatever you pay him he’s well worth it,” Beck announces as he enters the room.
“You dragged my ass in here on a day off to tell me my computer engineer came from Oz?” I smile at him.
“Something like that.”
I grab my coffee and clap him on the shoulder. “Now get out of here. I’ll talk to you later.”
I head to my office, figuring while I’m here I might as well get some work done. But after an hour or so I head back home. When I arrive home at two p.m., Caleb’s car is here, so I can ask him about the flash drive that looks suspiciously like the one I gave to him. I’m glancing up just as Trent begins to pull in, but then he slams on the brakes and backs up, opting to park off to the side of the road rather than in the driveway. He rushes out of what used to be my car—my beloved BMW M5 Touring. Dahlia had given it to him and there was no way I could take it back.
“Hey, Uncle Ben, I need to talk to you,” he huffs, bending down to catch his breath.
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s so important that you’re running, kid?”
The wind shifts direction as he swipes the back of his hand over his forehead. “I had lunch with Dahlia today.”
“Yeah, so you told me in your note.” I motion toward the house and walk toward the door.
When we reach the garage I turn toward him.
“Now, don’t be pissed,” he says.
My eyes narrow on him. “Come on, let’s go in.”
I open the unlocked door and we both walk in. As we enter the family room, my attention turns to Caleb sacked out on the couch with a few containers of Chinese food scattered on the floor and the coffee table, but I quickly turn my attention back to Trent. “Go on.”
“Well, I mentioned to Dahlia that you thought the girl you like is f**king someone else.”
I stare openmouthed at him. This is the first time his mouth has caught me off guard. “You did what?”
He repeats himself and Caleb bolts upright.
I flop down on the couch and rub my palms on my jeans. “I heard you.”
Trent picks up one of the take-out boxes and a pair of chopsticks and slurps some noodles in his mouth.
“First of all, why the f**k didn’t you tell me you were awake? And second, why would you say anything to Dahlia?”
He shrugs and settles into one of the oversized chairs across from the sofa. “I wasn’t asleep last night when you were talking to Uncle Caleb and I heard you telling him about Dahlia’s sister-in-law. You sounded a little desperate.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Fuck, f**k, f**k. “So you heard everything?”
I chance a glance at Caleb, who’s sitting there with a blank look on his face—red eyes, messy hair, and obviously very hungover.
“Hey, Trent, what you heard, I’m not like that anymore.”
He laughs. “I know that. And, Uncle Ben, I’m not twelve. I get we all make mistakes. Come on, you of all people know I get that.”
“He’s a pretty smart kid,” Caleb finally chimes in.
I shoot daggers his way.
“So, do you want to hear what I have to tell you or lecture me on how not to behave?”
“Keep being a smart-ass and I’ll call your mother,” I threaten.
“I’ll take the lecture,” he jokes, biting into an eggroll.
I run my hands through my hair. “Okay, what did she have to say?”
He grins. “That the guy you were talking about is a complete douche bag.”
My eyes widen in disbelief. “Dahlia called him that?”
“Well, no, she called him an ass**le.”
“Go on.”
“Anyway, that douche bag still has the hots for her. I guess she dated him for like a month almost a year ago. Dahlia thinks he keeps coming on to her. And don’t worry, I didn’t tell Dahlia you were heartbroken or anything.”
I ignore his smart-ass comment. I already knew Bell had dated Tate. Fuck me, obviously I was letting my anger about the baby impact my reaction. But why didn’t she correct me? I guess because I was being just as big a douche as her ass**le boss. Wanting to hear her voice, to talk to her, I pull my phone from my pocket. When she doesn’t answer I send her a text.
Where are you?
Her reply is immediate.
I’m at work.
I need to talk to you.
She doesn’t reply this time.
“Well?” Caleb and Trent say at the same time.
“She’s at work.”
“Well, go get her,” Trent says.
I look at him, exasperated. “This isn’t a movie.”
“Oh, I thought you were Danny Zukko,” he says, laughing.
Caleb laughs too and they both are almost crying in a matter of moments.
I leave the ass**les sitting here and stride into the kitchen. Today is the day after Thanksgiving and I remember her telling me something about where she’d be.
“You know, I think you’re actually over her?” Caleb says as he’s tossing a few containers in the trash.
Distracted by trying to remember where Bell had said she’d be, I look at him quizzically. “What?”
“Dahlia—I never thought you would get over her. But you call her Dahlia now. And there’s no spark in your eyes when her name is mentioned.”
I hadn’t noticed that before but knew I had gotten over everything as best I could a while ago.
“Hey, Uncle Ben, I’m serious as shit. I think you should go after that girl,” Trent chimes in.
“You know what, I have to say I agree with the kid,” Caleb says.
I open the refrigerator and grab a water bottle and toss one to him. “Here, man, you need this. You look like shit.”
He runs his fingers through his already disheveled hair. “I feel like it too.”
