Chapter 18
HAPPY
Rubbing some pomade between my palms, I run it through my hair, styling it away from my face in my trademark look, the one wayward lock that chooses violence every damn time falling forward over my forehead.
The thing has a mind of its own, so I’ve stopped fighting it.
Plus, the women seem to love it since it has its own dedicated fan page on Instagram.
I take a step back, assessing my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Jeans, a white button down, freshly shaven face, hair on point—I look damn good if I say so myself.
“You look real handsome, Daddy,” Lucky says from where she’s been watching me this whole time, perched on the bathroom counter in her Lilo and Stitch pajamas.
“Yeah?” I ask, turning to her.
She nods. “Like a prince.”
I narrow one eye. “Which prince?”
Her pink lips twist to the side as she looks up in serious contemplation. “Hmmm… Aladdin.”
“Aladdin, huh?” I muse glancing at the mirror once more, nodding. “I can accept Aladdin.”
Lucky meets my eyes in the reflection and grins that toothy grin that melts my heart.
“You be a good girl for Grandma while Daddy’s gone, yeah?” I ask, cupping her soft cheeks and leaning close to press my lips to her forehead.
“We’re gonna watch Demon Hunters,” she says with a mischievous grin.
“KPop Demon Hunters again?” I snort.
Lucky nods excitedly, and I lift her off the counter and twirl her around a couple times, blowing a raspberry against her cheek, making her squeal with laughter.
“Where is my Lucky girl?”
I pull back enough to meet Lucky’s eyes, watching them light up at the sound of my mother’s lilt sing-songing through the house.
“Gramma!” Lucky gasps. And, climbing down from me, she’s gone, like a bat out of hell, the pitter-patter of her footsteps fading.
Allie had a late study group tonight, so Mom is looking after Lucky while I take a few hours off.
No one knows where I’m going. Except Allie, of course, since this was all her idea.
But I didn’t want to tell Lucky at the thought of her either becoming anxious, or, worse, excited over the prospect of her daddy going on a date.
And, honestly, my mother finding out would be even worse; that woman is borderline obsessed with the idea of me meeting someone.
So, for now, all they need to know is that I have a dinner meeting with a brand manager; at least that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
When I walk downstairs, I find Mom and Lucky seated at the kitchen island, a box of cookies in front of them, my daughter carefully selecting one from the bunch.
“KPop Demon Hunters and a sugar rush?” I murmur, passing by and pressing a quick kiss to my mother’s cheek.
“Gluten free,” Mom sasses, her gaze looking me up and down as I take a bottle of water from the fridge. A knowing smile curls her lips as she says, “You look nice for a brand meeting…”
It’s her tone that makes my eyes want to roll back in their sockets. But I manage to refrain, looking away with a muttered “Thanks” before taking a long swig of water.
“Where’s the… meeting?”
Fuck. I probably should have thought this lie through a little better.
“Um… some… steakhouse downtown.” Not a total lie.
I managed to secure a booking at the best steak restaurant in Tribeca.
But I can’t tell my mom. Linda Estes is a New York City socialite.
She knows a lot of people in this town, and she is a goddamn sleuth when she wants to be.
“Daddy looks like Aladdin,” Lucky says proudly, daintily placing her cookie of choice onto The Little Mermaid plate in front of her.
“He sure does, Lucky girl,” Mom says, smile still knowing.
I do roll my eyes this time, shaking my head. And I need to get the hell out of here because I can’t keep shit from my mom; never been able to. “I gotta go.”
“Have fun…” Mom says in a teasing tone.
I feel my cheeks flame, and I can’t look at her as I walk around to give Lucky another kiss. “I love you, Lucky Duck,” I whisper, touching her nose with mine.
“Love you, Daddy,” she whispers right back.
Taylor Swift blares through my truck as I cruise down Broadway, tapping my hand against the steering wheel and singing along to every word.
Lucky is in her Taylor Swift era, and honestly, I’m not mad about it.
Could I change the playlist to something a little more suitable for a twenty-five-year-old guy on his way to his first ever date?
Sure. Am I going to? Not while “Blank Space” is playing, that’s for damn sure.
As I’m stopped at a red light, singing the bridge, a new message comes through on my phone, and when I glance at the screen to see who it’s from, an uneasy feeling settles in my gut. I slide to read the text message, rolling my eyes at words on the screen.
Baby Draper: Sorry, I’m not going to be able to go out.
I re-read her message a few times before a car horn sounds behind me, pulling me from my focus. Looking up, I notice the light is green, and I wave an apologetic hand to the person behind me, continuing along with the flow of traffic as I press the call button on my steering wheel.
It takes a few rings, and I’m almost certain she’s going to ignore me or send me to voicemail, so I’m sufficiently startled when she actually answers with a hurried, “Hey.”
“Baby Draper…” I say in a teasing tone. “Are you pussying out on me?”
There’s noise in the background, the sound of voices, but then I hear a lot of shuffling followed by the telltale click of a door, as if she’s found a quiet place to talk.
“Hey, no, it’s not that. I’m sorry, I—” She stops herself and then sniffles, and I don’t know why, but the sound of her sniffle immediately has my guard up.
“Are you okay?” I ask quickly.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She sounds so insincere, so unlike the confident Hannah Draper I know, so far from fine, it causes my gut to twist.
“Baby Draper, where are you?”
She sniffs again.
“Hannah,” I say a little more sternly. “I am about five seconds away from calling your dad. I don’t care if he kicks my ass. I’m worried. Where. Are. You?”
“I’m at the Four Seasons,” she says on a defeated sigh.
My brows knit together. “The Four Seasons?”
“Yeah. I’m… I’m with Brookes.”
I don’t miss the way my heart sinks down into the pit of my ass. She’s with Brookes. At his fucking hotel. When she’s supposed to going out to dinner with me. For my first ever goddamn date. An uncontainable rage swirls around in my chest, and I hate that I’m so affected.
“Oh… okay,” I bite out, forcing myself to swallow the words I know I shouldn’t say right now. “Well then… have a good night, I guess.”
“Happy, wait!”
I pause, my finger on the End Call button, doing as she says only because she sounds so fraught.
“It’s not what you think.”
It takes all I have not to laugh at that. “Oh, yeah?”
“I’m… I’m not supposed to say anything,” Hannah begins, her voice wavering a touch, causing the hairs at the back of my neck to prick. “I signed an NDA.”
My brow furrows again, anger making way for concern.
“I’ve been here almost all day,” Hannah continues tentatively. “Brookes… h-he almost died.”
Shit. “He what?”
“He said he was sick this morning, and he couldn’t show up for filming.
And my boss, Patrick, sent me to his hotel to check on him, to drag his ass to the studio, but when I got here, he was—” Hannah sucks in a breath, and that’s when I realize she’s crying, her soft sobs just about breaking my heart.
“When I got here, the place was a mess, there were liquor bottles everywhere, and Brookes was passed out on the bathroom floor, covered in his own vomit. I didn’t know what to do.
I-I thought he was dead. I called 911. The paramedics came, and they were able to pump his stomach.
But his team didn’t want him going to the hospital because they…
I don’t know, I guess they didn’t want the news getting out.
I-I’ve been here all day with him because…
he doesn’t have anyone else. Happy, I’m so sorry, I—” She breaks down, crying over the phone, and my hand balls into a fist because fuck, the sound of her crying does something to me that I’ve never felt before in my life.
“Which Four Seasons are you at? Midtown or Downtown?”
Hannah sniffles. “Midtown.”
I sniff a laugh. Of course. All this time she was mere blocks from my fucking house, dealing with this shit by herself. God, I feel sick at the thought. Shaking my head, I flick on my blinker, making a turn at the next block. “Text me the details, Baby Draper. I’m coming there right now.”