Page 59 of The High Tide Club
“A little. Enough.” She gestured at the pitcher of margaritas. “This happens every time I’m in here. You wait. We’ll be getting dessert too, whether we want it or not. Also, Myles and his brother show up faithfully, every week, to take care of my yard. But best of all, there’s Lillian. She knows all the judges and where all the bodies are buried in this county. She takes care of my filings. You can’t buy that kind of loyalty. Right?”
***
They placed their orders—fried seafood platter for Gabe and for Brooke, broiled, stuffed flounder. And a craft brew for Gabe, who confessed he wasn’t much of a margarita drinker.
“So,” Gabe said after the waitress had gone, “you have a child. I had no idea. At all.”
“Henry. He’ll be three in July. Want to see?”
“Of course.”
She took out her iPhone and scrolled through the photo library, holding it out for Gabe to see. “This is his preschool photo. Here he is at the park, with my mom. That’s us, eating ice cream in the backyard…”
“Good-looking little guy,” Gabe said, picking up a hush puppy from the basket the waitress had left on their table. He chewed and processed the images and the information. “He really is a miniature version of you.”
“I think he looks more like his father, especially when he’s mad at me.”
“And the father?” Gabe said, taking the opening. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
She downed a third of her margarita, then dabbed her lips with a napkin. “I don’t mind your asking,” Brooke said calmly. “But I would prefer that you keep this just between us. I know how people gossip in Savannah.”
“You think I don’t know gossip?” Gabe said bitterly. “All those years with Sunny? Arriving late or not at all to dinners with friends? Making excuses for when she was passed out cold in the middle of the day. I knew what people were saying.”
“I’m sorry,” Brooke said. “If it matters, I think you were a good and loyal husband all those years.”
“Thanks.” Gabe smiled. “It matters.”
“His name is Pete.” She blurted it out.
“Huh?”
“Henry’s father. My baby daddy. His name is Pete. We first met the summer before I started law school. We had sort of a thing, I guess you’d call it.”
“This guy Pete? He’s why you left Harris?”
“No. I ran off because I wasn’t ready to be married, to anybody. I’d been having doubts, but once that wedding freight train got rolling, I didn’t have the balls to derail it.”
“Probably for the best, then,” Gabe said.
“Tell that to my dad,” Brooke said.
“You mean youractualdad?”
They laughed in unison, and with perfect timing, their food arrived.
***
When he’d worked his way down to everything but the lemon-and-parsley garnish and the shrimp tails, Gabe groaned and pushed back from the table. “You were right about this place,” he told Brooke. “Don’t know when I’ve had seafood this fresh.”
“Glad you liked it,” Brooke said. She’d finished most of her salad and the flounder.
“You were telling me about Henry’s father. Pete? When did he come back into the picture?”
“Pete’s a wildlife biologist. He was working down here on the coast, over at Cumberland Island, doing some research. And when I left Savannah, I came down here, because I didn’t have anyplace else to go.”
“And that’s when you got together with this Pete?”
“Not at first,” Brooke said, blushing. “We were just friends.”
