Chapter 26
Chuck: Maybe she’ll finally take their advice and call her old man.
Lou: Some ties just never unravel, do they?
Chuck: Family drama always sneaks in. Throws another twist into the game.
Lou: And makes the shot even harder to predict.
“Paloma?” Papi’s voice comes through the speaker of my phone after we both sat in silence waiting several seconds for the other one to speak. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to just hang up, and he sounded like he wasn’t sure if it was a butt dial or not. “Are you okay, mija?”
“Yeah, Dad. I’m okay. Um. Actually…” My thoughts are jumbled. I’m still so angry with him about leaving, but the only way for me to move past this, hopefully, is by talking it through. “Can we meet for lunch this week?”
“I would love that. I can come down to you on Wednesday,” he says, his voice is the same smooth baritone I remember reading me a bedtime story before tucking me in.
Having him come to Cypress Lake feels too close to home, and I don’t think I’ll be as levelheaded as I want, so I ask, “Actually, can I come to you? I can be there Wednesday, late morning?”
“I know just the place.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I battle with my heart. How can I be so happy knowing how much hearing from me means to him but also still be so angry? “It is good to hear from you.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you Wednesday. Bye, Dad.” I end the call the moment I say the last two words. I close my eyes and inhale a deep, cleansing breath, my wet cheeks doing nothing to help me rein my control.
Being a daddy’s girl was a big deal for me.
I would wait for him to get home every day, running to him and slinging my arms around his neck in a tight hug after he lifted me in the air.
Papi was my whole world. And then, whatever the hell happened between my parents caused him to slowly disappear from my life all together.
He was there, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t home anymore, and how he yelled, how he stopped loving my mother, I always wondered if it meant he didn’t love me too.
It felt that way. It felt like he was yelling straight through her, and the words coated my psyche; his actions changed the way I saw love.
Changed the way I believed in love for myself.
My parents had been so in love, at least, that's what it appeared like when I was a child. And I couldn’t understand—still can’t—how two people could be in love one day and then not the very next. If love was so easily dissolved, it wasn’t something I ever wanted for myself.
Now with Clinton back in my life, a love I thought I ruined so many years ago…
If love could withstand what I did, then maybe it was more real than I was giving it credit for.
Maybe. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I pull on my Shaken Tropes crew neck and a pair of jeans so I can get to my shift at the bar.
The bar has been nonstop, and my feet are killing me.
With it slowing down a bit, I lean over to Cass, and say “Hey, babe, can you hold the fort down so I can take a quick break?” Not realizing she can’t hear me over blending up a daiquiri, I sidle up next to her.
“Hey?” Wanting to make sure I have her attention before I ask.
“What’s up, Lo?” This is her element. A wide smile is plastered on her face as she shakes away while the ice and strawberries blend.
“Do you mind if I take a step back and head into the office for a few minutes?” I ask, and she nods her head.
“Hell yeah, go take a break and then we can switch.”
“You are the best.” I drape a towel over her shoulder and make my way to the office. The very moment the door clicks shut I kick off my shoes and plop down on the couch. It’s one of the softest and I have considered stuffing it in my bag and moving it to my place.
A yawn slips its way through, and I realize just how tired I am. Between the Albatross Charity event and the bar, I’m ready for a three-day nap. Instead of lying down like I want to, knowing I’ll be asleep in moments, I pull out my phone and open my email.
Clinton and I may not be able to be with each other all the time, but we’ve made sure to exchange emails and keep each other up-to-date on what needs to get done.
To: Paloma Reyes
From: Clinton Morrison
Subject: FWD: Volvik Sponsorship
Mr. Morrison,
It's wonderful to hear from you! We would absolutely love to sponsor the Albatross Charity Tournament. With you already being a proud member of the Volvik brand, we couldn’t imagine saying no.
We are thrilled with what you are doing in your hometown and could think of no better way to support this new endeavor. The detailed report for the title sponsorship looks great. I’ll be sure to have our CFO send over our monetary contribution.
Wishing you all the best,
Debbie
I cannot believe what I’m seeing. Clinton has just reeled in our biggest sponsor yet.
A title sponsor is twenty-five thousand dollars, and it covers an entire third of our goal—one we are already halfway to completion.
My eyes scan the email again, reading over the attachments as well.
An excited squeal slips from my lips as giddiness washes over me.
Being a part of a tournament, in which my favorite golf brand is a huge sponsor, is a dream.
I click on the link beneath Debbie’s name, and it opens up the company’s website.
A stunning golf course comes into view, along with a vibrant orange sunset and fluffy clouds.
My eyes go wide as they land on the golfer taking a swing…
It’s Clinton. He’s holding up a pink golf ball, the same ones I use.
The same golf balls he first trained me with.
I pulled one from the club’s stock because I loved the neon pink, and I continued to learn how to play golf with them.
And now I see Clinton on the front of their website, holding on to something that feels like mine.
Lost in the need to figure this out, I click on Clint’s name below the image, and it brings me to a gallery. Every single picture is of him and the same neon pink golf balls. It could mean nothing, but even I don’t believe this is a coincidence.
Paloma
This sponsorship is incredible.
Clint
I’m so glad they pulled through. I’ve worked with them for years.
I take a quick screenshot of the gallery and consider sending the image to him.
Paloma
Do you always play with neon pink golf balls?
Clint
Yes.
You have a question for me, Dove?
Paloma
No, just wondering.
Clint
Ask me when you’re ready, Dove.
Instead of responding, I sit on his one-word answer for a moment, battling if I want to dig further because I know he won’t give me the answer unless I ask him for it, and I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to hear what he has to say.
Not yet. Still, I close my phone with a smile stretching across my face while feeling a sense of disbelief of how well he still knows me.
Even more reason to have this conversation with my dad.
I’m falling in love with Clinton Morrison—again—and I want to give him my all.
“Tu quiere flores yo te compro flores.” I sing along to the flores.
by Dariel Amant in my best voice, off-key and full of love.
It’s one of the beautiful things about music in the car—it doesn't matter if you have a good voice or not, and it all sounds good with the windows down. Cool wind whips through my hair as another one of his songs thumps through my speakers. I merge left onto the interstate to the address my dad sent me. As scary as it was to call Papi, even with the worry, I’m finding it difficult to hold back my excitement.
I didn’t want to waste time wondering if I was one step away from fucking our second chance up.
Allowing myself real teenage crushes wasn't a thing for me. I longed for them but wasn’t willing to waste my time, but now I feel like I should be dancing my feet off on the bleachers and singing love songs.
Dancing in my seat, my eyes snap to the current song title thumping through my speakers, and I exclaim, “Ohhhh hell no!” Laughter falls from my lips, and I have to force my eyes to stay open because I am fucking listening to love songs. I’m belting them out like I’m Gloria Estefan.
A phone notification interrupts the next love song, and I have the car read me the message.
Clint
Checking in, Dove. Have you made it yet?
The consistency of this man is sexy. How does he make stability sexy? I flick my gaze to the GPS before I reply, finding I want to answer truthfully. His care in wanting to know where and how I am reminds me of why I’m falling in love with him.
Paloma
Worried about me?
I’ve only got another eight minutes and then I’ll be at the restaurant Dad sent me.
Clint
Not worried, but you’re always on my mind.
Text me when you get there.
Paloma
I will.
And no running away, I think to myself rather than texting the sentiment. I don’t need the reminder, or maybe I do a little because I feel like he thinks I may just take off and run. I find myself reassuring myself through him.
The restaurant is none other than Maple and Batter.
Throwing my head back, I laugh so hard my face and stomach hurt.
I wipe my hand across my cheek and rub away the tears from my disbelief and melancholy joy.
This is where my love of waffles started.
They’ve been an obsession ever since I was a little girl. His little girl.
Paloma
I’m here.
It's Maple & Batter! One of my favorite places. *teary-eyed smile emoji*
I think this is a good thing.
I don't wait for his text of encouragement. Somehow knowing it’s going to be there once my dad and I have this conversation gives me all the warm and fuzzies I need. I spot my dad’s antique pickup truck, and my eyes immediately find him inside, sitting at one of the tiny booths near the window.