Chapter 38
thirty-eight
JOHANNA
Patrick and I spent the rest of the evening sitting in his truck and sharing more memories about his dad and my mom.
It’s not just the elation on his face as he listens, but the comforting presence it brings from talking about my mom with someone so openly that has us talking well after the sun sets.
We didn’t care about our wet clothes as we cried and laughed together. But as we peeled them off each other back at my apartment, I was happy to be rid of them. I knew we didn’t have long, so when he joined me in the shower, claiming it was better for the environment, I didn’t argue. I most certainly didn’t care when he fucked me hard and fast, with my face pressed against the shower tiles, our moans being lost under the spray of water.
He stands by my front door now, hair wet and curly from the shower and a cocky smile on his face.
“ If I didn’t have Lottie tonight, we wouldn’t be sleeping in separate beds, know that,” he says, before giving me another kiss. The last five have all been followed by “ Just one more.”
“ It feels a little anticlimactic, doesn’t it?” I laugh as he zips up his jacket.
“ Johanna . When we’re alone together next, it will be anything but anticlimactic,” he retorts, his voice gravelly and deep.
Now I really don’t want him to leave, but I know if he doesn’t, I’ll climb him like a tree.
“ I don’t think we’re on shift together until Friday . And then it’s Monday …”
We share a worried look.
“ God , Monday ,” he groans, and I want to echo his discomfort.
The past few months have flown by so quickly, and I can’t believe we’ll know the outcome of the restaurant next week. It feels like yesterday I stumbled into the restaurant and his life. I know whatever we’re told, we’ve tried our hardest, and if anything, I’m grateful for how it’s brought us back together.
I can deal with that potential failure, but I still worry about how Patrick will handle it.
I shake the pessimistic thoughts away. “ It’ll be fine; you’ve worked so hard.”
“ We’ve worked so hard,” he corrects.“ I’ve been doing what I’ve been doing for the last six years, you’re the one that came in and made all these amazing changes. That’s all on you.”
“ Yes , yes.” I start to push him toward the door. “ Get out of here, or you’ll never leave. And I need to sleep.”
I rise up on my tiptoes, plant one last kiss against his lips, and pull away when his arms start to slink around me, trying to pull me closer.
“ Ah -ah,” I chide, taking a step backward and pointing an authoritative finger at him.
“ You’re so cunnin ’ when you’re angry.”
“ Oh god, you sound like Lenny . You’ve spent way too long in this town, Patrick Sadler .”
He throws me a wink and walks out the front door. When I hear the door at the bottom of the stairs shut, I run to the window and watch as he climbs into his truck. He looks up to where I’m standing, kisses his hand, and lays it over his chest.
Be still my beating heart.
As my finger hovers over the doorbell, I let out a little laugh at how ridiculous I’m being. This is my childhood home; I have a key. I doubt it’s even locked.
I’ve avoided my dad since Lottie’s birthday party, and I hate that we’ve hardly spoken in the last couple of weeks, only talking business when he’s been at the restaurant. I called yesterday to check on him, but it was a short conversation as he was on his way out to see some friends.
I try the handle and when I find it unlocked as suspected, I push my way in and shut it behind me.
“ Dad ?” I call through the house.
When I’m met with silence, I can only guess he’s in the basement listening to old records. Kicking off my sneakers, I walk toward the basement stairs, when a familiar gold frame catches my eye.
The jigsaw puzzle that was and still is the bane of my existence stares at me. When I was twenty-three, I came home drunk and attempted to pry the damn thing off the wall. My dad caught me, and the next day, he reinforced the frame to the wall, arguing that it’s his favorite piece of “art” in the house.
It wasn’t a complicated puzzle by any means, just the sun setting over a mountain range somewhere in the world. I’ve stared at the scenery so many times, I could probably draw the missing piece by memory. Blue , purple, and pink hues for the sky and a tiny speck of white for the tip of the snowy mountain.
Now , whenever I look at it, I’m reminded of Patrick’s betrayal.
I can’t believe he was the one to take it all along, and then lost it! I run my finger along the glass where that piece should sit and shake my head, a small laugh breaking free. I suppose in a lot of ways, it was always him.
The raw sounds of a saxophone greet me as I enter the basement, and I find my dad sorting through my mom’s old records that line the back wall.
“ Hey , Dad ,” I shout above the music.
He looks up and smiles when he sees me. “ Hey , kiddo, what are you doing here?”
“ I wanted to pop by and see you.” I settle in the recliner in the corner of the room.
“ I’m a lucky guy. Do you want to stay for dinner?” He’s texted me a few times asking me to come for dinner, but I’d say I was too tired or had already eaten. I’m not proud of it, but I was feeling bitter after our conversation at the party.
I know my dad didn’t mean to upset me; all he’s ever done is care and support Harriet and me, but it hurt to think he doesn’t trust my own strength.
“ I’d love that. What are we having?”
“ Pizza ?”
“ I’ll make us something. You eat way too many frozen pizzas, it’s gonna catch up with you one day. What are you doing?”
Patting his stomach, he purses his lips and shakes his head. “ Oh , just sorting through your mom’s records. She had so many, I bet she didn’t even listen to them all.”
“ You bought them for her.”
“ Oh yeah, so I did.” He winks, before sitting in the recliner opposite me. “ It’s good to see you. How are things?”
“ They’re good…” I tap my fingers against my thigh but stop myself, because there’s no need to feel anxious about this conversation. “ I’m sorry I haven’t been over, or that I didn’t come to see you yesterday.”
I called my dad yesterday afternoon, before I found Patrick at the beach. Ted was his best friend, and yesterday would have been hard for him. He went around to see Claire in the morning and took her out for lunch, something I know they do every year. When we spoke on the phone, he was halfway out the door, off to Shirley’s to meet some of his and Ted’s old school friends for a drink.
I feel bad for not seeing him, but Patrick needed me more.
“ You’re fine, kiddo, I kept myself busy. Did you see Pat ?”
“ Yeah , I saw him.” I let out a sigh. “ I told him everything.”
My dad’s brow raises at that, but not so much in surprise. He slowly nods, eyes crinkling when he smiles softly. “ I’m glad. I know it can be hard for you to share that, but I’m proud of you.”
“ I’m sorry, Dad ,” I mutter as my chin drops to my chest.
“ What on god’s earth are you sorry for?”
“ For everything.” I try blinking away the tears, but my vision starts to blur. “ But especially for putting you in a position like that after Ted’s funeral. For fighting you, when really I knew I needed to find help. You’d just lost your best friend; you shouldn’t have been dealing with my mess.”
“ Johanna ,” he says and places his hand on top of mine. “ I’m going to stop you right there. Never , and I mean never, should you have to apologize for what happened. And if anyone ever makes you feel that you should, well, then send them my way and I’ll give them a talking to. What you’ve been through isn’t a mess, it’s a small blip, one that you have overcome with grace and strength. You deserve to find someone who stands beside you during your bad days, but also someone who makes your good ones even better. I’m guessing you’ve found that person, huh?”
I nod my head immediately, no question about it.
“ And that’s all a father can ask for his little girl. I never doubted your strength, but I’ll always worry about you, Johanna . Protecting you is like second nature, so I can’t promise I won’t be overly dad-ish from time to time, no matter how old you are.” His eyes sheen with love, and I’m reminded how lucky I am to have a parent who cares so deeply for me the way he does. He tilts his head with a knowing smile. “ I’m guessing Patrick’s that person?”
“ He’s my person,” I confirm. My cheeks ache from how wide I’m grinning, and from the satisfied look on my dad’s face, it’s all the answer he needs.
“ Can’t say I didn’t see that coming. I know he’ll treat you right.” He rises and pulls me to stand with him. “ Now , go cook dinner for your old man, I’m starving.”
As I laugh my way up the stairs, my dad’s own laughter following behind me, I think how different this day was six years ago. Barely staying afloat. I’d still be treading water like my life depended on it, if I didn’t have the amazing support network around me.
And though it was hard, I found my way home, and that’s all that matters.
“ Booth . I swear if you don’t stop fidgeting, I’m going to punch you in the dick,” Patrick snaps beside me.
We’re all antsy, but Booth hasn’t stopped pacing the office since we got here, slowly wearing a hole in the floorboards.
“ Honestly , it might help me stop feeling so sick. Where are they?” Booth whines and continues his persistent pacing until Patrick tugs him to sit next to him. I’m surprised the worn leather sofa we’re sitting on doesn’t cave with the weight of our combined nerves .
Booth continues to annoy us as his knee bobs up and down, foot tapping against the floor.
“ Booth , if you don’t quit it, I’ll punch you in the dick,” I say, peering around Patrick with a warning glare.
“ Pat , please get a hold of your woman,” Booth says, suddenly calm as he leans against the sofa with his hands behind his head. Patrick and I stare at him. “ Oh , don’t look at me like that, you idiots. I saw that hickey on Jo’s neck outside the bakery weeks ago. You guys are shit at hiding things. About time you quit dancing around each other, it was getting old.”
I gape at Booth , but Patrick only chuckles softly next to me. My warning glare is aimed at him now, but Patrick shrugs off his little brother’s comment and takes hold of my hand like it’s the most natural thing to do in the world.
Today is the day.
It came around too quickly and slowly at the same time. But the wait is over when Dad and Claire finally walk in. Even with our parents present, he doesn’t pull his hand away and satisfaction blooms in my stomach that we’ve come to some unspoken agreement and our relationship is no longer hush-hush.
Claire takes a seat in the chair behind the desk while my dad sits in a wooden one beside her. It almost feels like an episode of The Apprentice with how we’re all sitting.
“ Thanks for coming in today,” my dad starts. “ I don’t want to drag this out, and I know you’re all eager to know what the plan is, but before we get to that, I just want to say that the last few months have been some of the best performing months the restaurant has seen in a long time.”
Does he sound nervous?
The tension melts from Patrick’s fingers, but something in my dad’s tone only has me tensing more. Patrick must notice, because he turns and gives me a reassuring smile, like he knows it’s all going to be okay. I just wish I shared his confidence.
“ We can’t thank you enough for all the hard work and extra hours you’ve put in. I know the news in February came as a shock to you all, and it wasn’t a decision we took lightly. You kids went above and beyond to put this place back on the map. Even Mrs . Stewart left us a positive review online.”
We all chuckle at that, though the humor is shrouded with foreboding.
“ Booth , the food was perfect as always, and we loved what you did with the specials. The taste of Maine with a twist. Good job, son.” Booth puffs his chest out, and I know the praise from my dad means a lot to him. My dad looks at Patrick and me next. “ You two have really outdone yourselves. I know it was a rocky start, but the way you’ve worked together has been nothing but tremendous. It reminded me of the days when you were youngsters, fighting over who would bus the tables on a Friday night. I’m glad it all worked out.” There’s more behind his words than just working together at the restaurant. His lips turn up at the corners when he sees our fingers laced together.
He’s glad we worked out.
“ I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than right here. I couldn’t have done it without Johanna and Booth by my side,” Patrick says, eyes flitting between his brother and me.
“ G -man, I’m sorry, but please put us out of our misery,” Booth pleads, scrubbing his hands down his face and voicing what we’re all thinking.
My dad lets out a big exhale and turns to Claire , both sharing an indiscernible look. When he faces forward again, my stomach drops, because his expression is riddled with regret. Despite the warmth of Patrick’s hand, I feel cold and hollow before my dad’s next words even leave his mouth.
“ It wasn’t enough, guys, I’m so sorry.” The disappointment in my dad’s tone is palpable.
Patrick’s hand slackens in mine, and I tighten my grip, not wanting to lose the contact, but it slips away. A fissure opens between us at the loss of his touch, and all I can do is stare at my empty hand.
“ Do we have more time? Surely there’s more we can do. The summer is almost here, tourists are coming back.” Patrick is trying his best to sound calm and collected, but the pitch in his tone betrays him.
“ We simply don’t have the time or money,” Claire says. “ We’ve put this off long enough. We’ve been funneling in our own savings to keep this place afloat and ensure everyone gets paid. The revenue’s been slowly increasing, but it isn’t enough for restaurant to be viable in the long run.”
“ So that’s it?” Patrick bites out. The hurt in his voice twists at my heart, but I don’t know what to say. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration and lets out a sigh of disbelief. I debate reaching out to comfort him but think better of it, having already been rejected.
He’s just hurting, I try to assure myself.
“ We don’t want you to think we haven’t seen how hard you’ve worked, and how much this place means to you all,” my dad says. “ But we must be realistic here. If we don’t do something soon, I worry it’ll be too late. I don’t want to let people go before they have time to find another job. At least now we can?—”
“ I’m sorry, I can’t listen to this,” Patrick says, and he stands abruptly from the sofa. Booth —who, like me, has remained silent since the news broke out—shares a concerned look with me. I reach toward Patrick , no longer able to sit back and watch his struggle, but retreat when I see the tremble in my hand. I squeeze my palms together, hoping to hold off the incessant need to tap my fingers against my thigh.
“ It’s as if no one cares about this place. How are you all so calm?” He looks at us, though I’m not sure he’s even taking us in from the look of betrayal on his face. “ How do you know that whoever you sell this place to won’t rip it apart and destroy everything you’ve built? Everything my dad built.”
Claire gets up and walks to where Patrick stands, arms raised at his sides in question.
She takes a breath before she speaks. “ We’re hoping to avoid that, Patrick . The potential buyer we’ve?—”
“ Wait . There’s already a buyer? Since when?” His hands are shaking now, but not from anger. Pain radiates off him in waves, and in this small office, there’s nowhere for it to escape. From the uneasy feeling snaking its way through me, it’s as if I’m acting as a conduit for all his emotions.
“ We were approached by an anonymous buyer a few weeks ago; we didn’t openly seek them out,” Claire says, her voice firm. “ It’s not common knowledge, let alone listed anywhere, so we don’t know how they knew to reach out.”
“ So why not tell us then? Why make us waste our time and force us to work with each other? What was the point in the last few weeks if you already knew?”
I glance down to check my heart hasn’t fallen out of my chest. When I see I’m still intact, the gravity of what he’s saying settles. Waste of our time. Force us to work. What was the point?
He doesn’t know the impact of his words. I remind myself of that, but they cut me deeply anyway. There’s no way he thinks the last few weeks are a waste, right? Because outside of the restaurant, we’ve seen each other almost every day. And those days don’t feel wasted.
The tingling in my fingers works its way up my arms, and a familiar tightness pulls at my chest. I straighten my spine, hoping it eases the discomfort, but it draws four sets of eyes in my direction instead.
It’s Patrick’s gaze that rocks me the most. His eyes widen as he takes in my shaking hands and quick breaths. All the fight leaves him as his shoulders sag, realization dawning on him.
He moves toward me, apology written all over his face, but my skin feels too tight. I don’t know if it’s the news about the restaurant or seeing how torn up Patrick is, but the bubbling panic propels me from the sofa.
It’s nothing too severe, but I know I need my medication.
Which is in my car.
Internally cursing at almost making the same mistake twice, I scurry toward the door. “ I’m sorry, I really am, but I need a moment,” I mutter, not daring to look at anyone. Not even Patrick .
Inches from the door, a gentle touch on my hip halts my movements. I almost don’t make out his murmured words they’re so quiet. “ Love . Don’t run, not now. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“ I’m not running, Patrick . I really do need a minute. I promise, I’ll be back.”
Without a backward glance, too scared to see the hurt on his face, I leave.