Chapter 27 Tate
TATE
Friday evening, I drop Bea off at Holly’s, and when Holly and Jeff see me, they start applauding.
“Thank you, thank you.” I bow to them, laughing. They always do this when they see me wearing a tux.
“You look handsome, Dad,” Bea says.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” I press a kiss onto the top of her head. “What are you three up to tonight?”
“How do you feel about sushi?” Holly asks Bea.
“I feel great about it,” she chirps before looking at Jeff. “Are we still going to paint my room this weekend?”
He looks mock-affronted that she even asked. “Absolutely, we will. You think I forgot? No way.”
“He got paint chips from the store in every shade of purple,” Holly tells her, and she brightens.
“You did? Can I see?”
She runs upstairs and Jeff follows her.
“Jeff’s a good guy,” I tell Holly. “I appreciate you picking him and not some asshole.”
She pretends to be offended. “I only mess around with the good guys.”
I chuckle. “I was not a good guy when you met me.”
“Hey.” She gives me a scolding look. “That’s not true. You were always a good guy.”
I had isolated everyone in my life and spent every night wallowing in drunken self-pity, but okay. Getting sober, having a daughter, and a decade of therapy knocked all that out of me.
“Well, anyway.” I lean against the counter. “Obviously, I miss tucking Bea in every night, but knowing she’s with you and Jeff makes it easier.”
From about halfway into Holly’s pregnancy until she and Jeff started dating seriously, we lived together. Separate rooms, of course. But it was important to co-parent together, especially in those early days. We wanted to show Bea a healthy, if platonic, parent relationship.
I like my home, though. I like how quiet it is, how I can raise Bea surrounded by nature.
I like that I can have a guesthouse with an unfriendly bartender.
“Are you taking a date?” Holly asks, jarring me from my daydream.
I give her a look. “It’s a work event. Why would I take a date?”
I’ve never taken a date to one of these things.
She studies a spot on the counter. “The players bring their partners, don’t they? I thought you might take Jordan.”
I give her a flat look and she doesn’t meet my eyes, but she’s smiling.
“Holly.”
“I heard she’s very pretty.”
Last week, I gave Holly the heads-up that someone was living in the guesthouse for a while, someone I trusted to be safe around Bea. A common courtesy from one parent to the other.
I never said what she looked like, though.
“Bea is very interested in her,” she adds.
I sigh, smiling at her. “Not you, too.”
She ignores me. “Is she pretty?”
Yes. God, yes. And stubborn, and infuriating. Kind of a brat, too. And good at hockey strategy. And surprisingly sensitive, from what I saw in the supply closet.
She was crying, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
“She’s Ross Sheridan’s daughter.”
“But is she pretty?”
“She’s my employee. She’s ten years younger than me.”
She waits with a knowing smile.
“She’s a flighty, smart-mouthed, unforgiving bartender who barely speaks to her father.”
A bad feeling washes through my chest. She is all those things, and yet they feel wrong and cruel. If she overheard me, I’d apologize immediately.
Holly drums her nails on the countertop, watching me with that annoying smile. Is this how Jordan feels when I smile at her patiently?
“Yes,” I huff. “She’s pretty, okay? So what. She’s pretty.”
She’s really fucking pretty.
Holly beams widely. “Great. That’s all I wanted to know.”
“You’re meddling.”
“We want you to be happy.”
This again. “I’m happy. What do I lack for? Nothing. I have an incredible life. Just look at our kid.”
“She is literally the best child in the world, but you need to have fun and cut loose once in a while. You’re so . . .” She shakes her head. “Controlled, Tate.”
That’s because when I get out of control, bad things happen. I drink. I drink way too much.
“Thank you for your concern, but I promise I have a very full, happy life.” I look at my watch. “I should get going. Bea,” I call upstairs, “I’m leaving.”
Bea runs back downstairs and gives me a big hug while I kiss the top of her head.
“Love you to the stars and back,” I tell her. “Have fun.”
“Love you to the stars and back,” she says.
“Have fun with Jordan,” Holly sings with a smile in her voice.