Chapter Four #2
Did that sound pathetic? Could he tell she was hoping he’d start showing up here on Saturday mornings?
“This beach is closer to the new condo than our old place. I thought I’d let Jack get used to coming here.”
They’re going to be regulars. Ada held back a gleeful grin. “There’s a great hot-dog joint a quick walk from here. If you two aren’t in a hurry, I’d love to treat you both to some lunch. You did pay for coffee the other night, after all.”
Oh, man. That was definitely pathetic. It was embarrassing enough to not get asked out over the phone. To ask him out— sort of— in person only to have her invitation rejected would be humiliating.
“I think we could be talked into a couple of hot dogs.” Craig didn’t sound blown away by the idea, but he also didn’t seem to have any real objection to it.
Ada took that as a tentative victory. A step forward, anyway.
They sat there, soaking up the sun, chatting about a million different things, while Jack ran around with Ruff.
Conversation had been easy between them from the very beginning.
Didn’t he see that? Wasn’t he at all curious to find out if there could be something more between them than friendly banter?
As noon approached, he called out to his son, “Hey, Jack! You hungry?”
“Starving.” Jack dropped onto the towel near Craig’s chair.
“Ada knows of a hot-dog place nearby. She’s going to take us.”
Jack flashed Ada a heart-tugging smile. “Awesome!”
Jack carried the conversation as they walked to get lunch.
Ada heard all about his friends, his pet fish Francisco, his new swim trunks, and his new home.
Though she was thoroughly familiar with the townhouse, she let Jack tell her everything he knew and thought about it.
The boy was a charmer, for sure. He didn’t stop talking until he took the first bite of his hot dog.
“I should have warned you that he likes to talk,” Craig said under his breath.
She waved off the unspoken apology. “I’m used to it. My brothers were all the same way, and their kids are too.”
“Our new house has a pool,” Jack tossed out between bites.
“That’s great,” Ada said. “Sounds like you’re a swimmer.”
Jack shrugged. He spoke, though he was still chewing. “I usually swim at my mom’s house. It’s the only thing she likes to do with me.”
It’s the only thing she likes to do with me. Ada’s heart broke at the very matter-of-fact declaration. She glanced at Craig. Tension tugged at his eyes and mouth, though he did a good job of hiding it.
“Your dad tells me you play basketball.”
Jack lit up again. “I’m good.”
Ada leaned a little closer to him. “So am I.”
Jack’s eyes grew wide. “Really?”
“Really. I played in college.”
“No way,” the two Adamson men said in unison.
“Way.”
“What position do you play?” Jack asked.
Craig hazarded a guess before she could answer. “Point guard.”
“How’d you know?”
“It fits you.” He wiped a bit of mustard off the corner of his mouth.
“You’re not super tall— no offense— but more than that, you’re a strategist. You approach real estate the way a point guard approaches a game.
It’s all about taking stock of the situation, figuring out what people need even if they don’t see it. ”
Ada was pretty sure she was blushing. That was the kind of compliment women wanted to get but seldom did: an acknowledgment of her strengths and abilities. Most of the time, all women heard about was their looks, as if that was their defining characteristic.
She looked at Jack. “What position do you like best?”
He sat up straighter. “I’m a power forward.”
Ada loved the confidence and enthusiasm in that declaration. “Up top, dude.” She held her hand up for a high-five and received an enthusiastic one. “What’s your favorite shot?”
“Layup, but I’m not very good at it yet. Dad said I just have to keep practicing.”
“I was never good at layups.”
Jack gave her a duh look. “You’re a point guard.”
She and Craig laughed at that. She liked Jack. What a great kid.
“Do you play on a team?”
He finished off his hot dog. “The Gorillas.”
“City league,” Craig filled in.
“We have a game on Tuesday. You could come if you want.” Jack sounded so hopeful. Did his mom ever come to his games? Maybe she lived too far away.
“What time is your game?” she asked.
Craig cut off Jack’s response with a wave of his hand. “Ada, you don’t have to.”
“I like basketball,” she assured him. “It’d be fun.”
But he was shaking his head. “It’s okay, really.”
“But—”
“He doesn’t need you to come.”
That was too pointed to be misunderstood. It wasn’t so much that Jack didn’t need her there, but rather that Craig didn’t want her there.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”
To like basketball. To be nice to your kid. To ask you on another non-date date.
“Sorry.”
Jack’s gaze darted from one of them to the other. She tried to smile, but it felt awkward. “They have good ice cream here. You want a cone?” she asked him. “If it’s okay with your dad.”
“Can I, Dad? Please?”
Craig sighed a little— not a good sign. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Vanilla or chocolate?” she asked Jack.
“Vanilla,” he answered firmly.
Ada jumped up from the table, grateful to leave them behind for a minute. She wasn’t sure where things had gone wrong, but they definitely had. She hadn’t been pushy or anything.
What did I do?
“Ada, wait up.”
She slowed, but didn’t look at him. A person could only be shot down so many times.
“Look, I—”
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to push myself where I’m not welcome. I like basketball, and youth league games are fun to watch. No big deal.” She got in line for ice cream, still not looking at him.
“You and I— we just don’t know each other very well.” He’d apparently followed her all the way to the line.
“I know,” she answered quickly. “No biggie.”
“Jack’s a friendly kid, and he welcomes people into his life without thinking. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”
She held her hands up in a show of frustration. “How could my going to a basketball game hurt him?”
He turned stone-faced. “People have walked out on him. I have spent years holding him together. I have reasons to be careful.”
“There’s a difference between being careful and not giving someone a chance.”
“I’ve known you for two weeks,” he said. “Not inviting you into my son’s life is reasonably cautious.”
He had a point. But it still stung.
“Next,” the guy at the counter called.
Ada stepped up. “A vanilla cone, a chocolate cone, and—” She looked over at Craig. “What do you want?”
He did three-quarters of a double take. “You’re still buying us ice cream?”
She rolled her eyes. He really did think she was a flake who broke promises on a whim. “Vanilla or chocolate?”
“Chocolate.” The statement had the vaguest hint of a question behind it.
The rest of their non-date lunch date was every bit as awkward as he’d predicted their first one would be. Jack seemed oblivious, which was the only good thing Ada could say about the afternoon. The moment Jack finished his cone, Craig said they had to go.
Ada pretended the declaration didn’t seem like a desperate attempt to escape. “I’ll let you know if anything changes with your closing date,” Ada said. “But as of yesterday, everything was on schedule.”
“Sounds good.”
No, it sounded. . . disappointing.