Chapter 26
26
Kit
T he conversation I had with Janice in the lobby of the urgent care went like this:
“I swear I never meant to keep this a secret. I’d only wanted some time, but it just got bigger and bigger until I didn’t know what to do.”
This, incidentally, was similar to what my father said to me the night I found out about his gambling.
“Tess is his, isn’t she?” I’d asked, and then in the heartbeat of silence after my question, I knew the truth but didn’t want confirmation. Of course she was. But it wasn’t my business to know that first. None of this was my business. Loving Tess and sleeping with Liam didn’t make me a part of the family. “Never mind. You need to tell him yourself.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m…I’m so sorry.”
It felt like there was a whole lot of sorry to go around.
This was supposed to be a vacation fling. I knew that. I’d proposed it.
Then I went and fell for the fucking playboy. The charming flirt who kept everything casual so he would never have to feel another person’s pain.
I was such an idiot.
I walked down the beach, out of the cove, into the big wide public beach across from the Calico Cove town square. The smart thing to do was to turn around, pack up my stuff, say a terrible and tearful goodbye to Tess and get the hell out of this nightmare.
But I wasn’t feeling smart.
I was feeling self-pity and anger and heartbreak.
Only one thing for it. And it wasn’t a double scoop of mint chip from the ice cream parlor.
It was a double scoop of tequila. I walked towards town and went into the first bar I found that was open before noon on a Saturday.
The One-Eyed Gull. It looked like a proper dive bar and I loved everything about it.
Perfect.
There weren’t many people inside, probably because it was before noon. I took an empty seat at the bar, ignoring two men who were deep in conversation at the other end. No one was behind the bar so I looked around for wait staff serving people at the tables behind me, but there weren’t many of those either.
In the back there was an argument and a tall dark-haired woman with wide shoulders and thin hips stepped out from the kitchen behind the bar. “No, brother dear, the answer is, you do it. It was your idea. You do it.”
She turned, saw me and smiled. “Sorry,” she said. “What can I get you?”
“A margarita?” I said. “A big one. A double?”
“That kind of day already?” The woman asked with a sly wink.
“You have no idea.”
“Oh,” she said, pouring all the ingredients into a shaker with ice and giving it all a good shake. “I do. My brother, the genius, wanted to teach all four of our kids how to make breakfast this morning.”
“Didn’t go well?”
“There is pancake mix on the ceiling,” she said. She salted the rim of a bar glass, poured in the margarita and handed it over. “What did-”
From the kitchen came four kids looking to be between the ages of ten and fourteen. Behind them was a handsome dark-haired man wearing a t-shirt with a Serbian flag. And behind him was Dillon Le Coeur.
Great. Just fucking great.
Of all the gin joints…
I took a gigantic swig of my margarita as the dark-haired man kissed the bartender on the neck and pinched her ass. “This,” he said with a heavy accent, “was mistake. I’ll take them to the park.”
“Okay,” she said and kissed him back. “Thanks.”
“Your brother,” he said, “is a fool, but he means well.”
“Fuck off, Novek,” Dillon said. “You thought it was a great idea. In fact, you said, and I quote, “Our children need to be tougher. I knew how to roast a goat when I was their age.”
Novek looked at the bartender with big sheepdog eyes. “I never said that. Our kids are perfect.”
She laughed and swatted him with the bar towel over her shoulder. “Get out of here. I’ll see you later.”
Dillon laughed and so far seemed not to notice me. Which was awesome. He walked to the bar fridge and I stepped back away from the stool, looking to go hide in a booth.
“Too late,” Dillon said, smiling at me as he popped open the top of a can of soda. “I saw you.”
“Hi, Dillon,” I said, like he was a proctologist, and I needed an exam.
“You two know each other?” The bartender asked. She had a red bandana holding back her hair and she gave real Rosie the Riveter vibes.
“Kit, this is my sister Wendy. Wendy, this is Kit.”
I waited for the shoe to drop. For him to say something about how we knew each other. He testified at my dad’s trial, because my dad stole a shit ton of money from him. Not the best conversation starter.
I braced myself.
“She’s taking care of Tess, the little girl with Liam,” he said instead.
“Nice to meet you, Kit,” Wendy said, shaking my hand. “And how is that Liam?”
“Good,” I lied. “You know Liam?”
“Sun shines out of his asshole,” Wendy said. “Game two of the Stanley Cup final, that man carried the whole fucking team on his shoulders.”
“That’s kind of his thing,” I said and immediately regretted it. I took a giant sip of my margarita.
Dillon made eye contact with me as if to say he understood what I was really saying. Wendy went down the bar to help the two other guys and Dillon leaned forward to keep chatting with me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
“The thing I know about Liam,” Dillon began,” is that he hugs people with one arm and pushes them away with the other. I’ve never met a man with less privacy and more boundaries.”
I gaped at him and he shrugged.
“I know. I’m basically a genius with people. It comes from working in a bar my whole life.”
“This is your family bar?” I asked.
“It is!’ He said, turning sideways to show me the framed picture of what looked like an old-fashioned professional wrestler. “My dad owned it and then Wendy took it over and I came back every summer on the off season to put in my time and give my kids a beach summer. Now I’m here more than I’m not, as an old retired man.”
“Sounds really nice. Your dad still around?” I asked and then wanted to kick myself. Bringing up the subject of dads with this guy was idiotic. But then, I realized this was what Liam did, he skirted around the conversations and just worked really hard to seem like it didn’t bother him. The best thing to do here was just…maybe…say the things I feared saying.
“He died a few years back.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry about your dad, too,” he said, and our eyes met over the bar.
“Thanks,” I whispered and my voice broke. “I don’t say this, because I know who he was, who he is, but sometimes, I still miss him.”
“Of course you do,” he said. “Regardless of what went down, he was your dad.”
I nodded.
“You and Liam work things out about that?”
“You told him everything,” I mumbled. It was a mild accusation though.
“He needed to know the truth.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. I finished my drink and pushed my glass towards him.
“Another?”
My phone rang and I pulled it out of the pocket of my hoodie. I was in a bar in my pajamas. Underneath this sweatshirt I wasn’t even wearing a bra.
“Speak of the devil,” I said, showing Dillon my phone, and then I swiped the screen with my thumb and answered Liam’s call.
“We have a problem,” he said before I could say hi.
“I know. You’re an asshole who can’t see what’s in front of-”
“Tess is gone.”