Chapter 11 The New-Leather Smell
The New-Leather Smell
Darcy
Up until now, I’ve been sipping my latte and trying not to be so stupidly impressed by the new-leather smell of Eric’s Porsche or unnerved by the cozy size of the car’s cockpit.
We’re just two work friends heading to the same party, I keep telling myself. Stay calm.
Except now we’ve reached the tricky part of the conversation—my family. And since he’s about to meet most of them, I’m going to have to explain. Not that I’ll enjoy it.
Although it begs the question—which is more embarrassing? DMing Eric with an offer to lick him? Or my family’s history?
It’s kind of a tough call. And Eric is waiting for my explanation. Even now, he’s turning down the radio to listen, which is a thing men aren’t usually good at.
If being earnest were his whole personality, though, I wouldn’t have a hormone rush every time I see him.
On skates, he’s a force of nature. It’s like seeing a chess grandmaster dominate the board while bench-pressing a car.
And I’m supposed to watch that on a regular basis and continue on as a functional human being? In this economy?
“Darcy?” he prompts. “I was just making conversation. You don’t have to tell me about Bracknell or your family if you don’t want to.”
“I kind of have to, though,” I say with a sigh.
“So… Bracknell is a big suburban sprawl. You’ve probably only been there for hockey games, or maybe you passed it on a school bus headed to Minute Man Park.
Excellent D1 hockey team, though. It’s about thirty-five minutes to Marblehead. ” Which will be relevant in a minute.
“I like a town with its priorities straight.” Eric accelerates for a lane change. “You probably never went to Marblehead, either. Unless you were passing it to go to the beach.”
You’d be wrong. “That’s actually where my father lives. But I haven’t spent much time there.”
He gives me a glance of confusion.
“Welcome to the family drama. It’s quite the story.”
He gives an awkward chuckle. “Well, now I’m really curious. Mostly for Maribel’s sake. This wedding is happening kind of fast. One minute they’re newly engaged and planning a wedding for next year. And then suddenly, the wedding is happening this summer. Kind of made me wonder if…” he hesitates.
“If Maribel is pregnant?”
He winces. “It’s really none of my business.”
“Nor mine. But the thing you need to realize is that their excuse sounds totally plausible.” The email—from earlier this spring—had said that a weekend spot opened up at Blue Button Bay, and that they’d snapped it up.
“My father is a hotel executive at the Wayfair Group, and Blue Button is one of his signature properties. If Theo holds his wedding there, he probably doesn’t even have to pay for it.
It’s cheap, convenient, and showy. And that place is usually booked years in advance. ”
“Oh,” Eric says slowly.
“Yeah. Moving up a wedding to hold it at Daddy’s original luxury resort is absolutely something my family would do.”
“Huh,” he says, smoothly passing a minivan.
“It’s complicated.” I sigh. “I had a perfectly boring childhood in Bracknell until I was thirteen. My dad worked in commercial real estate and was a part owner in the Blue Button and a bunch of other properties. He traveled a lot. At least that’s what we thought.
And then one day, we caught him in a lie. ”
Eric gives me a nervous glance. Like maybe he regrets asking.
But since we’re headed into the epicenter of the Randolph family drama, I can’t really avoid the topic. “Tessa and Theo are my dad’s other children, whom he had with his other wife in Marblehead. My mother and I didn’t know anything about them.”
He actually gasps.
“It’s very daytime TV, isn’t it?”
“It’s… wow,” he mutters.
“So now you know my villain origin story.” Or, more precisely, the moment I realized that not everybody is required to follow the same rules. Particularly men with a bit of money.
“And… suddenly you have two siblings you never knew about? That must have been wild. And your poor mom.”
You have no idea. “My mom lost it. She kicked him out the same day, then hired a divorce lawyer the next day.”
“So your whole life changed. Just like that?”
“Right. My mother went back to work because she had to. That was a big change, on top of everything else. But for my father? Everything got easier—hiding your second family is hard work, and getting caught made his life simpler. He packed up his clothes and left for his other house, where he stayed forever.”
“Jesus.” He sneaks another glance toward the passenger seat. “I guess that explains why you’re not close to your siblings.”
“It does,” I agree. “Not that he didn’t try. Once his secret got out, he decided we should all spend time together. It went about as well as you’d expect.”
He shakes his head. “Must have been awkward as fuck. What’s the age difference between you and the twins?”
“Two weeks.”
“Stop it!”
“It’s true. The twins are older than me, but Dad was married to my mother first.”
“Oh God.”
“I bet he said that many times the year I was born.”
Eric lets out a pained laugh. “So he created this mess, he’s got three babies on the way, and he just decides not to have any difficult conversations?”
“That’s right. Although at some point, I think his other wife, Kandi, was in on it.
” They had a sham wedding when the twins were little.
I don’t really know the details. Kandi came from money, though, which probably helped him get away with his treachery for so long.
“My mother still won’t even say his name.
She didn’t take a penny of alimony. She says he’s dead to her. ”
He gives a low whistle. “That’s complicated, Darcy. Sorry.”
“It is what it is. I’ve had half my life to get used to it. But now you know why I don’t know what to buy Theo for a shower gift.”
“Um… is this a bad time to ask if he ever called you back?”
I laugh. “He didn’t. But we bought them a really nice blender from Williams Sonoma, with a gift receipt, because Maribel’s Instagram is heavy on the smoothie pics and recipes, and her blender is a piece of trash.”
Eric smiles. “Perfect! Thank you for figuring that out. I’ll Venmo you for the whole thing.”
“You’re only allowed to pay half. I realize that you’re a professional athlete, but I’m doing fine. And you’re driving me to Massachusetts.”
“All right.” He keeps his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, and everything about this moment is just so him. The luxury coffee. The car that’s capable of accelerating from zero to sixty in 2.3 seconds. But he drives it responsibly.
Eric makes my heart pound, but he also makes me feel safe, and that pretty much explains my attraction to him.
“So… I know we’ve got four hours to discuss it,” he says. “But what about this stupid dance competition? Do you have any ideas?”
“Of course I do.” Although it kills me that a professional athlete who makes several million a year is worried about what people will think of his dancing skills. I guess we all have our issues. “We just need to pick something a little gimmicky. Have you ever seen Dirty Dancing?”
“Jesus Christ.” He grips the wheel. “I’m no Patrick Swayze.”
“Okay, breathe,” I say quickly. “My idea is simpler than you’re assuming. We can totally make this work.”
He glances over at me, his eyes wary. “You are vastly overestimating my dancing skills.”
“You’re vastly underestimating my planning skills. And you haven’t even let me tell you my idea.”
He sighs. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”
So I do.