30. Isaac
30
ISAAC
I t was the weekend of Hannah’s brother’s engagement party. The planets must have aligned or or some mumbo jumbo like that, because it was a Thursday and every single person in the poker club had the day off work.
I had padded my travel schedule to include an extra day with Hannah on the front end of the trip. That way we could spend time together before things inevitably went to shit when I met her bitch of a mother.
That meant I was wrangled into attending beach day.
Beach day with the poker club was—well—quaint.
I offered to have my yacht brought down, but Hannah rolled her eyes, made a Richie Rich joke, and said I would have to do as the locals did.
Apparently, beach day used to include taking Maddie’s houseboat out for a joyride, but it had been the unfortunate victim of arson.
Thank god . I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do less than take a rickety houseboat out into open water.
To my surprise, beach day was significantly more fun than a yacht party full of stuffy people who had no interest in getting their designer duds wrinkled, much less actually docking and jumping in the water.
Being the planner that she was, Hannah Jane oversaw the schedule and packing lists, while Maddie and Luca brought coolers upon coolers of provisions.
We loaded up Chase’s truck before the sun was up and drove out to Pine Knoll Shores. It was all hands on deck to haul the coolers, tents, and beach bags over the dunes to the beach. That didn’t even touch the daycare’s worth of baby gear Steve and Erica brought along for Aly.
I could admit that she was adorable. I still wasn’t holding her, though.
So, there I was, in a pair of clearance rack swim trunks and three-dollar flip flops. I had practically bathed in sunscreen. My feet burned in the blistering sand, but I wasn’t complaining. Not when Hannah was ten feet away in a strappy purple bikini that left nothing to the imagination.
Hell yes ma’am.
I held her phone out in front of me and snapped photos at lightning speed like I was her own personal paparazzi. The girls were lined up in front of the water, posing as their hair blew in the wind. They posed with their arms around each other, and then in the air, throwing up peace signs.
Kristin’s older siblings, Logan and Kylie, were laying out on striped beach towels, soaking up the sun. The two younger ones, Hunter and Zoey, were digging a giant hole in the sand. For what reason, I had no fucking clue.
They were good kids, though. Rambunctious, but respectful. I guess that’s how kids were supposed to be. I didn’t have a clue. Maddie mentioned something about them being out of school for the summer.
I didn’t know how Kristin managed the four of them and worked as much as she did. It was probably a good thing Hannah Jane dragged her to the beach, kicking and screaming. The girl needed a break.
“Let me see!” Hannah said as she broke free from the group to approve the pictures. I handed Hannah her phone, so the girls could crowd around and praise my photographic genius.
There was a flurry of ‘text me that one’ and ‘ew, not that picture.’
Luca clapped his hand on my shoulder and laughed. “Welcome to the struggle. They’ll never agree on one picture.”
The two of us walked back to the tent where Steve was digging through a diaper bag, and Chase was flying the baby around like an airplane.
“So tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” Luca asked. “Meeting the family?”
I shrugged and plopped down on the blanket that was spread under the tent. “Not that big of a deal, other than the fact that I already pissed her mother off,” I said with a chuckle.
Steve grimaced. “Good luck recovering from that.”
“Have any of you ever met her family?” I asked.
They all shook their heads.
“I don’t think the girls have either,” Chase said. “If H.J. ever visits her family, she always goes there. If they’ve ever been here, she did a damn good job of keeping it quiet.”
Hannah was better at keeping secrets than all of them realized.
“Wonder why,” Luca mused.
I shrugged. “Her mom’s a bitch.”
What else was I supposed to call a woman who cared more about shoving Hannah into a one-size-fits-all mold rather than her daughter’s happiness?
I slid my sunglasses on top of my head and watched Hannah run through the sand to me.
“Hey.” She grinned. Her hair was windswept and wild. Her makeup was simple today, and I could see her freckles through the thin layer of whatever she smeared on her face. I liked it. “Wanna go on a walk?”
“Sure,” I said, hopping up and pecking her lips. I took Hannah’s hand and laced our fingers together. We were a good-looking pair.
“Ay, yo,” I said, getting Luca’s attention. I tossed him my phone and dipped Hannah backward for a kiss. It wasn’t as iconic as the kiss between the sailor and nurse in Times Square that she had framed in her office, but it was ours. And it was perfect.
As is.
Luca took the picture and threw my phone back.
Not too shabby.
I kissed Hannah’s temple and held her hand. As we headed down the beach, I heard Logan—Kristin’s brother—ask, “Is that really Isaac Lawson?”
We walked until the poker club was out of sight. I waited patiently as Hannah dug a seashell out of the sand. “So, how did I do as your personal photographer? Not too bad?”
She giggled and slipped the seashell into the pocket of my swim trunks. “Pretty good. It’s been a while since we’ve all been able to make it to the beach at the same time.”
“You gonna print any of them and frame them for your house?” I asked.
A soft smile crossed her sun-kissed lips as she watched the surf break. “I don’t really decorate with pictures.”
I noticed that the very first time I set foot into her house. It’s why I knew I was pressing my luck when I asked, “Why not?”
“It’s complicated.”
“You know, things are rarely as complicated as we make them in our own heads.”
She gave me a doubtful look as she pulled a hair tie off of her wrist and raked her hair back into a stubby ponytail.
I bumped her hip with mine. “Talk to me, Princess. ”
Hannah stared out at the horizon. “My parents’ house is a damn shrine. Years ago, my mom had a five-foot-tall oil painting of our family commissioned. It hangs in the foyer, and it’s creepy as hell. There are tons of photos of my brother and me. They’re all over the place. Pictures of us and our awards. Debate team and cheerleading. Jake and his little league trophies. Me winning pageants.”
There was something about the way she laced pageants with deadly venom that piqued my interest.
“So, no pictures because your mom went overboard?” I mean, it made sense, but I had a feeling there was more to it than decor preferences.
Hannah shook her head. “She put me in the pageant circuit when I was a baby. When I was in elementary school, she’d pick me up early for spray tans and nail appointments. I thought it was great because I liked getting all dressed up and having people tell me how pretty I was. But, when I started losing baby teeth and had gaps in my smile, she had me start wearing fake teeth. It was all downhill from there.”
I tugged on her hand and we sat down in the sand. The edge of the tide rushed up the beach and grazed our bare feet.
Hannah picked up a waterlogged piece of wood and poked at the wet sand. “I was not the best looking teenager. Puberty wasn’t kind to me, and I went from looking like an adorable little kid to struggling with acne and weight gain. I had glasses and braces for years. It was a real ugly duckling situation until I hit college and took control of my life. My appearance didn’t really bother me, but I started losing pageants. That’s what my mom cared about. She couldn’t brag about trophies and tiaras. She stopped putting pictures up, and the ones that she did had been retouched.”
“You were just another trophy for her to show off.”
Hannah nodded. “I was just a pretty thing for her to keep on a shelf. They raised me to marry a CEO while I wanted to be the CEO. For a long time, I did everything I could to please her. I tried every skincare routine on the planet to get rid of my pimples. I starved myself to lose weight. Nothing worked. I wasn’t good enough. Pretty enough. And the thing is, I thought it was me. She let me believe that I was the problem. It didn’t matter that every other girl my age struggled with the same things because that’s just teenage hormones for you. I needed to cover my acne up with makeup. I needed to work out more, eat less. I needed to be the prom queen and the homecoming queen. Not for me—for her. To prove in some sick, twisted way that I was good enough for her. Good enough to be a Hayes.”
Everything made sense. All of it. Her secret obsession with forbidden cereal. The intense desire to be in control. To have her house looking perfect. To always be put together. To never be seen without a full face of makeup.
The desperate need to cut herself off from a diseased tree.
I had always wondered why she was hesitant about our relationship being public knowledge, and now I understood. She was a recovering people pleaser. She didn’t need the pressure of a social media commentary and tabloids documenting and judging her every move.
I scooted her over into my lap and wrapped my arms around her. Pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, I said, “You’re not a fixer-upper. I love you as is.”
Hannah leaned back in my arms and closed her eyes. “My therapist would have a field day if she ever met my mother.”
That made two of us.
Hannah had me questioning the legality of buying an entire city and going back to the olden days of flogging someone in a public square, just so I could shame the woman who nearly broke Hannah.
We stood and brushed the sand off. As we turned to head back to where the poker club had set up camp, Hannah slipped her hand in mine and asked, “What about your family? You don’t talk about them often.”
I chuckled. “We’re about as dysfunctional as yours.”
“Let me guess—y’all hide it well, too,” she said a little more lightheartedly.
“You and me, Princess. Peas in a pod,” I quipped. “We go together like chocolate and peanut butter,” I said, remembering her vehemence that she was complete just the way she was but still wanted to find her life partner. I gave myself props for recalling that little tidbit. I had this boyfriend thing down pat.
This seemed like a conversation we should have had a long time ago, but better late than never. Our relationship certainly wasn’t running on a typical timeline—at least by my guess. But regardless of how we got together and how backward our path to each other was, it was our story, and it was perfect.
“I went away to boarding school when I was in kindergarten and had a live-in nanny during the summers,” I began. “My parents divorced before I learned how to talk. I’m the only child from my parents. I have a ton of step-siblings, but I stopped bothering to meet all of them a long time ago. My mother spends her days alternating between inpatient rehabs that pretend to be luxury spas and going on plastic surgery benders. I call my father by his first name, and the only time we see each other is in board meetings. I think he’s on wife number seven now, but to be perfectly honest, I’ve lost count. I have no idea what her name is, but I do know that she’s younger than you.”
Hannah laughed, loud and long. “You’re joking, right?” She giggled, wiping her eyes.
I grinned. “Not kidding, Princess. We’re a shit show.”
The poker club tent came into view, and we spotted everyone crowded around a cooler, passing around food.
“What’s for lunch?” I asked .
“Frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” Hannah trembled in giddy pleasure.
If I hadn’t been holding her hand, she would have taken off running down the beach.
I laughed. “Seriously? Maddie and Luca were in charge of the food and they made sandwiches ?” I saw signs all over the place that said no grilling on the beach, but I thought between the two of them, they’d have some kind of five-star box lunches. Maybe a gazpacho, some canapés, and that cold crab and avocado salad Luca made in the summer. My stomach rumbled at the thought.
“Come on, fancy pants,” Hannah said, tugging on my hand and dragging me up the beach. “Let me indoctrinate you in the ways of beach day delicacies.”
I was a changed man. Frozen PB & Js were heaven. It was the perfect cool down. Carbs and protein for energy, a little sweetness from the jelly, and the crunchy peanut butter gave it a nice texture. I’d have to keep these stocked in my freezer in the city. Maddie cracked open a cooler and started handing out plastic juice pouches.
“I’m good,” I said. I’d rather stick with water than fake fruit punch .
Maddie grinned and shoved it into my hand. “Trust me. You’ll want it.”
Hannah nodded and stabbed the thin plastic straw into her pouch.
I shrugged. When in Rome, right?
I threaded the straw through the tiny hole and took a sip. Sputtering at the shock, I choked out, “Fuck, Mad—warn a guy next time.”
She laughed and plopped down beside Luca. “Told you you’d want it.”
I looked over at the sign that strictly prohibited alcohol on the beach. The juice pouches were, by my guess, mostly tequila with a bit of fruit punch.
“Scissors, flat irons, and a funnel,” Hannah grinned. “No one’s the wiser.”
Mel shot a pointed glare at Steve and Chase. “And two cops who know that snitches get stitches.”
They raised their hands in surrender.
Kristin’s brother made a move for the cooler full of contraband adult beverages.
Steve glared at him. “Logan, don’t you even think about touching that cooler until you’re twenty-one.”
He grumbled something that sounded a lot like, “fuckin’ killjoy,” and retreated, grabbing a can of Coke from one of the other coolers.
The girls started a cut-throat cornhole tournament. Steve, Chase, and Kristin’s youngest brother, Hunter, set up a game of bocce ball while Erica prepared to nurse Aly.
I wasn’t going to stick around for that.
I finished off a bottle of water and tossed it in the garbage bag tied to the tent pole.
“Mr. Lawson?”
I turned around to find Kristin’s brother, Logan, a few feet away.
“What, uh, what’s up?”
“Can I ask you something?” he said awkwardly.
I was shit interacting with kids. I was even worse at talking to kids. But he looked closer to adulthood, so fuck it—I was going to treat him like a damn adult.
I nodded and pretended like I was in a suit, walking through the headquarters of Lawson International instead of drinking spiked Capri Suns on the beach.
“Walk with me,” I said with the authoritative voice I used at work .
Logan seemed to respond to that. He picked up his feet and matched my stride as we headed for the edge of the water.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked when we were out of earshot of his sister. Hannah hadn’t told me a lot about their situation, but I imagined that having your older sister also fill the role of mom and dad had to suck ass.
“You’re him, right?” Logan asked, tossing his floppy hair out of his eyes. “I heard Kristin talking about you after you started dating Miss Hannah Jane. I Googled you.”
I chuckled as we walked down the beach. “I’m Isaac Lawson, yes.”
“And you’re like… Really rich. Right?” He looked embarrassed and mumbled, “Sorry. Kris said I shouldn’t ask that.”
I shrugged. “Numbers aren’t subjective. They are what they are.” My bank account had a lot of numbers—I wasn’t ashamed of that, but I had a feeling Kristin’s situation was very different from mine.
“How do you get rich?” he asked.
I grinned. “I, uh, I’m probably not the best person to answer that,” I said honestly. “I was born into it. I work hard, but I had a running start. Most people don’t. Luca, though—he’s self-made.” And I was damn proud of my boy.
“Oh,” he mumbled. “How do you stay rich?”
Now that was a question I could answer. “You stay hungry,” I said. “Don’t let yourself get comfortable. People squander their wealth every day and end up right back where they started. If you win the lottery, don’t quit your day job. Keep pushing hard.”
For as long as I could remember, I had been running on an endless cycle of work hard, play hard. I pulled eighteen-hour days and then partied like a rock star.
Boot and rally, then do it all again.
When had I stopped chasing the next comma in my net worth? The realization hit me like a tidal wave and knocked me on my ass .
I was chasing her.
“You got a job?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Kristin needs the car to go to the inn. We don’t live close enough for me to walk anywhere to work.”
I filed that tidbit of information away to discuss with Hannah.
“If you had a car, where would you try to find a job?”
We turned to head back. Logan stuffed his hands in the pockets of his swim trunks. “I dunno. I don’t really wanna be flippin’ burgers and fryin’ chicken.”
“That’s fair. But you know what those jobs have? College tuition assistance programs. A ladder from entry-level positions into management. It’s sure as hell not glamorous, but it’s just the first step. You’re not just making burgers and French fries. You’re learning how to be on time. Reliable. You’ll learn how to be a team player. I would rather hire someone who has soft skills and is teachable than someone with a perfect resume.”
That seemed to put a spring in his step. I’d have to talk to Hannah to see what we could do about Kristin’s transportation situation. If I had to guess, Kris wasn’t going to accept any generosity willingly.
I stopped him before we got close to the rest of the poker club. “Tell you what. You got a phone?”
He handed me a flip phone that was decades out of date. I punched in my cell phone number and gave it back.
“I’m trusting you with my personal number. If you start applying for jobs and need a reference, you can put down my information.”
His eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead. “Really?”
I nodded. The kid had a good heart. It was clear as fucking day. I had enough connections to find him a job in minutes. But something told me that, like his sister, he didn’t take kindly to handouts.
Hannah strutted along the beach and caught up with me as Logan said thank you and ran to join his siblings in the cornhole tournament.
“Hey, you.” She smiled. “What was that about?”
I grabbed her ass and lifted her, so she had to wrap her arms and legs around me like a koala.
“Ah, you know—just doing my civic duty. Corrupting the next generation with tales of partying in Barbados and getting drunk on private planes,” I joked. “Drugs, strippers, and booze, Princess.”
She saw right through me. Hannah sandwiched my cheeks with sandy hands and kissed me. The mesh lining of my swim trunks did nothing to restrain the erection fighting its way out of the polyester. I had Hannah Jane’s ass in my hands and her mouth on mine.
Hannah pulled away and rested her forehead on mine. The heat from the sun was ruthless. Our skin was covered in sunscreen, sweat, and salt. The tequila on her breath and coconut lip balm made tasted like summer.
“You’re a good man, Isaac Lawson.”