Page 40 of Big Stick Energy
Eric:Didn’t respond yet. Trying to think of how to sidestep the question.
Darcy:Oh, I got this. Tell her you wouldn’t know who to call because the team outsources all that stuff to an agency. It might even be true.
Eric:You evil genius!
Darcy:At your service.
Eric:That’s what I’ll say. GTG now and take this call from Emerson. He’s having car trouble and needs help finding a mechanic.
Darcy:A captain’s work is never done.
Eric:#truth See you after lunch.
I go back to doing my face and scrutinizing the two outfits I brought with me. What does a girl wear to brunch at a golf clubwith the man who gave me all my trust issues? Do I wear the white jeans with the hole in the knee, so he knows I just don’t care that much? Or do I wear the sleek little cotton dress, just in case Tessa shows up to make me feel like a slob?
After way too much deliberation, I go with the dress. Then I check out of my hotel and ask the concierge to call me a cab.
“No need, miss. For Diamond Members, there’s a free shuttle service.”
That’s handy. It means that I reach the club a few minutes early. The host finds a spot for my suitcase, then walks me toward our table by the window.
My father is already there, and I notice several things in quick succession. First, his club is as insufferable as ever—polished silverware, crisp white linens, the soft clink of champagne flutes, and polite laughter. A pianist plays something delicate and forgettable near the fireplace, and the air smells like money and hollandaise sauce.
Second, my father obviously didn’t put as much thought into his outfit as I did. He’s wearing a rumpled polo shirt, and he didn’t bother to shave. And? He’s seated at a table that’s set for three. “Expecting someone else?” I ask as he rises to kiss my cheek.
“Only Eric,” he says, taking a seat. “If he wants to join us for coffee before you two drive away.”
“Oh.” I take a seat and pull out my phone to text him. “That was thoughtful.”
“I really like him,” my father says when I look up. And he has a dreamy little smile on his face, proving thateveryoneis starstruck over Eric.
“He’s the greatest,” I say, and it isn’t even a lie.
“Such a gentleman,” my father gushes. “Maribel loves him.What a terrible loss they both had. It makes Theo uncomfortable sometimes.”
My hand stops on the way to putting my phone away again. “Because she was once in love with someone else?”
“No, not like that.” My father shakes his head. “Theo feels bad that she had to suffer that loss, though, in order for him to marry her.”
“Oh.” My family rarely exhibits this kind of emotional literacy. Instead, my father just takes what he wants whenever he wants, and damn the consequences.
I guess I always assumed Theo would grow up to do the same.
“She’s so good for Theo,” my father adds. “She makes him laugh. And she loves to try new things.”
“Like ballroom dancing,” I say slowly, and my father nods. “That’s great. I’m happy for him.”
The waiter comes and takes our orders. My father makes small talk about everything and nothing. A recent business trip to California. The garden his wife planted. The hotel chain’s new wellness amenities. “Everyone is jazzed up about sleep therapy, so we had to source a hundred thousand weighted blankets. And all our five-star properties are getting a wellness concierge.”
Our food arrives, and my father slices into his omelet with surgical precision. I pick at my crab cake and wonder if I should become a wellness concierge, whatever that is. It sounds more relaxing than helping to run a hockey team.
But it’s hitting me that something is off. My father never invites me out for lunch, just the two of us. He likes a wider audience. There must be a reason.
I set my coffee cup down carefully. “All right, just say it. Is something going on?”
He dabs the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin before leveling his gaze at me. “You are perceptive. As always.”
My stomach clenches. “What is it?” Is he getting another divorce? No—does he have athirdwife? And more siblings I need to meet?
