Chapter Twenty-Eight
Louis came from the front to open the door for her. “Hello, Bethany.”
She handed Louis a brown paper bag with a smile.
He arched his eyebrows. “What’s this?”
“I brought you a pumpkin muffin. Made it fresh this morning.”
“Why, that’s awfully kind of you. Thank you.”
She smiled and nodded, then slid across the cool leather seat toward Hank.
“Travis covering for you at the restaurant?” Hank asked, after Louis had closed the door. His cell phone buzzed, but he ignored it.
“No, he had an exam today and some errands to run, but Rosie’s handling the dinner hour.”
“Hey. What are you doing all the way over there?”
She scooted a few inches toward him, breathing in his cool mint smell. “Hey yourself.”
He sniffed the air in front of her. “You smell like apples.”
“I baked a pie.” She made a face. “You know baseball, apple pie and all that. I thought, maybe you and I . . .” A sudden shyness had her stuttering.
Firm fingers lifted her chin until their eyes met. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m buying.”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I thought we could go back to Grandma Lou’s for apple pie. After the game.”
His eyes settled on her lips, and he quirked his mouth into a slow smile. “And you worried I’d say no? You had me at ‘you and I.’ Throw an apple pie into the equation, and I’m a goner.”
She couldn’t stop an answering smile from lifting the corners of her mouth. “You’d think I’d know you have a major sweet tooth by now.”
“Sweetheart, you and pie are about the best things to come my way in a long time. Maybe ever.”
“I didn’t mean . . .”
He wrapped a long arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side like a football. “I know what you meant. And I meant what I said. Pie without you is just pie.”
Before she could respond, Hank’s cell phone buzzed again. He glanced at the number and stiffened, his face hardening into a furious mask. Sorry, he mouthed, letting her go and turning toward the window.
“How much?”
There was a pause. Bethany was close enough to hear the loud male voice on the other end.
“What kind of greeting is that?”
“The only kind you’ll ever get from me.”
“I’m not calling about money. Well, not exactly. Listen, your brother mentioned that you’re getting serious about a girl.”
His jaw tightened. “Why do you care?”
“I’m concerned about you. Your last girlfriend is suing you for millions. The one before that spread lies about you on social media. This one sounds like she doesn’t have two cents to rub together.”
Bethany cringed. They were talking about her.
“None of which is your business.” Hank sounded bored. “Is there anything else?”
“Yeah, happy belated birthday. Linda and I are planning a trip to Los Angeles in September.”
He straightened. “You’re kidding.” The bored tone vanished.
“I’m perfectly serious. We can celebrate then.”
“No.”
“Now hear me out. I know I wasn’t around much when you were younger, but I didn’t have my head on straight back then.
I’m in a good place since I last talked to you.
I got a promising lead on a new job, and if this comes through, we’ll buy a house once we save a little dough.
If we can afford the plane tickets, we thought it would be fun to come for a visit. ”
“Still no.” Now he sounded mean. Bethany shivered.
The voice on the other end pleaded. “I thought you’d be happy.
You’re always on me about staying put and holding down a job.
Son, it’s only a brief visit. Surely, you can spare a little time for us.
It’s the perfect opportunity for you to meet your sisters and stepmom. They’re anxious to get to know you.”
“I’m not interested in getting to know them. I gotta go.”
“Hank, just think about it, will you. We’d all like to see you and Connor. I’ll call you later when you’ve had more time to consider the idea.”
“Now wait—”
The call ended, and Hank stared at his cell phone for a full minute before glancing at Bethany. Fury banked like hot coals in his eyes.
“Your father?”
“Yes, sorry you had to listen to that.” His voice oozed acid. “Dear old Dad wants to visit me in Los Angeles.”
She pressed a hand on his arm. “Hank, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but your dad’s request sounded reasonable. Maybe you should visit with him while he’s in town. Don’t you want to meet your sisters?”
Hank narrowed his eyes. “If your ex called you up and wanted to come for a visit with his new girlfriend, would you let him?”
A cold chill crawled up her back. “That’s not the same. Besides, this isn’t about me.”
A muscle clenched in his cheek. “You’re right. It isn’t about you. It’s about me. My relationship with my dad isn’t up for discussion.”
“I . . .” She sucked in a breath at the sting. He was right. They hadn’t known each other long enough. It was none of her business. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t mean to get too personal.”
For a long moment, Hank didn’t speak, and the silence between them grew awkward.
She searched her brain for a safe topic.
“It’s been years since I’ve been invited to a baseball game.
My dad used to take Travis and me as kids a few times a year—back when they were called the Indians.
One time, we caught a fly ball. I think Travis still has it in his bedroom.
” She rambled but couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“Did you know the team was originally called the Naps? That was a tribute to one of the popular players in the early 1900s. His name was Napoleon, or Naps for short.”
Hank brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips, which erased every stray thought in her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. My father is a sore subject.”
Bethany shivered and pulled her hand from his. “I know. I didn’t mean to upset you. Especially when we’re enjoying your birthday gift. Can you forget I said anything? I’d really like us to have a good time.”
Hank sighed, the sound a lot like the steam from her pressure cooker at the end of its cycle.
“Listen, I know you meant well. But that man doesn’t deserve to call himself my father.
He was never there for me growing up. Not once.
He has no right to call me out of the blue and tell me he wants to come visit me in LA with his wife and my half-sisters, whom I’ve never met, and expect me to accept them. It’s too much to ask.”
“I understand, but . . .” Bethany said and swallowed. She did understand. But she also knew that if his father was looking for forgiveness, Hank owed it to himself to hear him out.
Hank stretched his hands behind his head. “But what? I can see you’re dying to give me your opinion.” He closed his eyes. “Go ahead. I’ll try not to lose my temper.”
How could she make him understand? Bethany clenched her hands in her lap and studied her nails. She’d chewed them to nubs worrying about the family business. Looking at them helped her get out the next part with barely a tremor in her voice.
“Desmond took every bit of money I had in my savings account, including the money Travis and I got from our insurance policy after our parents were killed. This was the money I was planning to use to keep Grandma Lou’s afloat.
He knew what I was trying to do, and yet he betrayed me anyway.
I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, but . . .”
Hank opened his eyes and squinted. He looked every inch a god—a curious, questioning one. “But what?”
“He never intended to marry me.” An aching embarrassment washed over her like a wave rushing to shore, leaving a cold chill behind. She shivered. “He didn’t love me—all he wanted was my money.”
Hank turned her face to meet his sharp gaze. “He’s a fool. I’m sorry.”
Bethany’s face heated, and she twisted until he released her chin.
She looked out the window rather than meet his knowing eyes.
“The only other thing he found attractive was my cooking skills. To say I’m bitter is an understatement.
It’s been two years, and I’m still furious.
I loved him—trusted him. He betrayed me in the worst way possible. ”
“He deserves to be behind bars. Why didn’t you hire a lawyer?”
“Don’t you think I tried? I gave him joint access to the account. In the eyes of the law, he didn’t do anything wrong. He had a right to the money. It was my fault for trusting someone who didn’t deserve my trust. Poor Travis has had to suffer the consequences of my poor judgment.”
“I don’t think your brother blames you for what happened.”
Bethany gripped the seat and tried to ignore the heat in his gaze, which drew her toward him like a powerful magnet. “He doesn’t. But I do. I can’t forgive myself. Desmond never once asked for forgiveness. He never once admitted he was wrong. But your father has.”
She finally had the courage to look his way.
He studied her from under hooded eyes. “So, because my father said he’s sorry for years of neglect, you think I should forgive him?”
She put her hand on his. “No, Hank. What I’m saying is you should hear him out. Let him visit. Give him a chance to explain. Maybe something he says will ease your anger . . . help you understand his neglect. It’s a gift you give yourself.”
He studied her hand. After a few moments, he placed his other hand on top of hers and rubbed his thumb across it, sending a warm tingle through her skin. “I’ll think about it.”
“All right.” She would have to be satisfied with his answer. She could hear her mother’s voice in her mind: Baby steps, sweetheart, baby steps.
They were quiet for the rest of the ride until Louis parked the car in front of the stadium.
“Let’s go.” Hank threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her along until they reached the club seat section. “This place looks amazing. Much different than the last time I was here.” He tugged at her hand. “C’mon, the game’s about to start.”
They found their seats, but not before helping themselves to hotdogs smothered in stadium mustard, golden french fries, and giant sodas.
Hank gazed with rapt attention at the players on the field, but Bethany found herself distracted by a little boy in front of her with straight black hair and a gap-tooth grin.
He kept smiling at her over his mother’s shoulder.
Then there was a middle-aged man a seat over with long white hair and his belly hanging over his belt buckle, drinking a beer.
And—the girl seated three rows in front of them on the right—was she staring at them?
The girl tapped the arm of her friend next to her, who turned her head to take a peek. Bethany looked away.
Then the seventh inning stretch came and craziness ensued.
The girl and her friend asked Hank for his autograph, then the man next to her did the same, and soon, a small crowd circled them, all demanding Hank sign whatever they had to offer.
In some cases, it was their shirt, in others, a napkin.
A lady asked Hank to sign her forehead, which he laughed and did.
Bethany shifted her weight from one leg to the other and wondered how Hank continued smiling.
Thank goodness the game resumed, and everyone returned to their seats.
“Sorry,” Hank said, offering her a lopsided grin.
“It’s okay,” she said, but seconds later she wished she’d held her breath.
The cameras on the field panned to them, and the next thing Bethany knew, her giant mug appeared on the big screen next to Hank’s.
She stared in horror, but Hank tapped her shoulder.
When she turned to look at him, he offered her a slow smile, as if he saw the big screen as an opportunity rather than cause for alarm.
“It’s the kiss-cam. We can’t disappoint them.”
Before she could fully grasp what he planned, he kissed her in front of the entire stadium. The kiss was short but thorough, and when he separated from her, there were cheers and clapping all around them.
Hank’s grin seemed satisfied, but Bethany felt her cheeks grow hot and her heart and lungs freeze.
She sipped her drink and kept her eyes down to avoid looking into all the faces turned her way.
A few minutes later, the game resumed, and she let out her breath bit by bit.
Her heart resumed its normal thumping in her chest.
She poked Hank in the side and put her hand over her mouth so no one else could hear. “Tell me we didn’t just kiss in front of thousands of people.”
Hank laughed but kept his voice low, thank goodness. “Okay, we didn’t kiss in front of thousands of people. More like a million, if they broadcast to the viewers at home.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This doesn’t concern you?”
“Not at all. It concerns you, I take it?”
“Hank, people are going to think we’re an item.”
He laughed again, and she had the urge to slap the silly, satisfied grin off his face. She might have, too, if it weren’t his birthday outing, and if it didn’t remind her of all the female leads in every dramatic film she had ever seen. She gripped her drink and gritted her teeth.
“Why do you care what they think? We are an item.” He nudged her arm with his. “Aren’t we?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, we’re not.”
“Then why do you kiss me?”
“We shouldn’t be kissing at all.”
His lips drooped into a pout, but it didn’t detract from his good looks. If anything, it added to his charm. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t like kissing me.”
Her eyes met his blue ones. “I don’t like kissing you.”
He chuckled. “Liar, liar.”
Bethany’s lips twitched. The truth was she did like kissing him, and they both knew any denial was a lie.