“Don’t get your hopes up.” She took a slow, deliberate sip of beer.
“My hopes are pretty low,” he said, his eyes on the drink. He tapped his forefinger against the tablecloth. “Jessie, I’ve been sober for one thousand and fifteen days.” He fished something out of his pocket. A coin from AA. Big deal. You could buy those on Amazon, probably.
“Congratulations. Don’t come around here anymore.”
“I’d like to have you and Davey back in my life.”
“Permission denied.”
He nodded, not quite looking at her. “You’re angry, I understand that. And I can’t undo what I did. But I love you and Davey—”
“No, you don’t.”
“I have a disease, Jessie.”
“I don’t want to hear it. Mom had a disease, remember? She died, if you recall, and right after that, you blew out of town, took out three credit cards in my name and put me fourteen grand in the hole while I waitressed to support your disabled son.”
There was a clatter from the Holland table. Jess had the impression that Pru had just grabbed a sharp object, God bless her.
“Yes,” Keith said. “I did all those things. And I regret them, and I’ll never do them again, and I am very, very sorry.”
“I don’t care. I really don’t. You’re as dead to me as Mom.”
He looked out the window, blinking. “I’d like to earn a place in your life, Jessie. And Davey’s. I’ve been sober for almost three years.”
“So what? Davey’s all grown up, and I’ve finally managed to get out of that trailer park. I have a decent job with health benefits. We don’t need anything from you.”
“I’d like a chance to do better.”
“I’m thirty-two years old. I don’t need a daddy. Not anymore.”
“Davey might.”
Her hands went ice cold. “Well, I’ve been mother and father to him all these years, so if you think you’re going to waltz in here and take him to a ball game or a movie and make everything right, think again. Best thing you can do for us is leave and never come back.”
“I have a job at the salt plant over in Dundee. I rented a little place there. I’m here to stay, honey. And I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll make this up to you.”
“How do you make up someone’s childhood? How do I get a do-over on that, huh?”
“Okay, you’re angry. I accept that.”
“How generous of you.”
He sighed. “But I have to say, I think you’re exaggerating how bad things were,” he said, and that’s when Jessica completely surprised herself and threw her beer in his face.
* * *
CONNOR WAS IN a particular circle of hell known as the date who never stopped to draw breath.
Marcy.
“So there we were, and not to toot my own horn—” as if she’d been doing anything else since they sat down “—no one wants to be the one responsible for an Oscar winner’s wedding disaster, am I right? So I say, in Italian, did I mention I’m fluent? I say, ‘You there! Put on this striped shirt and row! I don’t care if you can’t swim! Ah ha! Ah ha! Ah ha ha ha!”That was her laugh. The first time she’d let it rip, Connor thought she was coughing up a hairball. Also, she yelled all her sentences. People were looking at them, but Marcy seemed unaware.
They were in the little bar at Hugo’s, because he hadn’t wanted to go to O’Rourke’s, since Colleen would be there. Also, it was Wednesday, when the volunteer EMTs and firefighters had their meeting there, which consisted of pool-playing and dirty jokes.
And Jess was on the fire department. He didn’t want her to see him with another woman. It just felt wrong.
Marcy sounded like a flock of geese, honking incessantly. No, geese sounded too nice. That comparison wasn’t fair to geese. Chickens. She sounded like a thousand chickens. A stadium of chickens.
Fortunately, his participation in the conversation wasn’t required. Marcy told stories. Namedropped a lot, not that Connor knew who any of these people were, but he’d already learned to simply nod and pretend he did, because otherwise, she’d tell him in excruciating detail.
His phone buzzed, and though he hated when people checked their phones while out with real live humans, he suddenly understood the urge.
Whenever he’d been with Jess, he’d turned off his phone completely.
The phone buzzed again, urging him to sneak a peek. It was Colleen.
Stop being so negative. There must be something you like about her. Try being positive for once in your life.
He glanced around Hugo’s tiny bar area to see if his sister was there. Nope. The magical twinsy bond struck again.
He looked at Marcy, who was laughing at her own joke. Positive, positive. Well, she was cute, he’d give her that. Her hair was black and shiny, and though her eyes were small behind her glasses, they were a nice blue color. Average rack. A little thick around the middle, which he only noticed because she kept sucking in her stomach like she was about to blow out the candles on a centenarian’s birthday cake.
In the twenty minutes Connor had been on this date, Marcy had probably said more than Jessica had said in ten years.
But Jess could say one word, and it would mean everything. Yes, for example. Yes would’ve meant everything.
“So I’m standing there, and this guy says ‘I love your outfit,’ and I’m like, ‘Hello? This shirt is ten years old! You have pretty lousy taste, pal.’ And then I realize it’s Michael Kors! I kid you not! Ah ha! Ah ha! Ah ha ha ha!”
This date would never end.
Then all of a sudden, Tom Barlow came through the bar, half dragging Keith Dunn by his collar, and escorted him none too gently out the door.
There was only one reason Jess’s father would be here.
“Excuse me a second,” Connor said. Without waiting for Marcy to answer, he went into the main section of the restaurant and saw Jessica at the corner table, surrounded by her friends—Honor and Pru and Hugo. The tablecloth in front of her was sopping wet.
“Jess?” He knelt down in front of her and took her hand. If anyone didn’t realize he was in love with her, they were blind or stupid. Her hand was icy, and he rubbed it between his. “You okay?”
Her eyes were dry. No. Jessica Dunn never cried, but that copper wire connection between them flared with heat.
“I’m fine,” she lied. She squeezed his hand and pulled it free. “Just lost my temper a little bit.”
“As you should have,” Pru said. “I would’ve broken the damn glass over his head.”
“Me, too,” Honor said.
“Let me take you home,” he said, standing up and offering his hand.
“Good idea,” Pru said. “Jess, let him drive you home. It’s been an upsetting night.”
“I’m really fine. But thank you.” Her eyes met his, and the wire lit up. She wasn’t fine. She needed him, damn it. But she didn’t take his hand. He let it drop.
“What have we here?” Shit, it was Marcy, and she cozied right up to him. “Wow, it’s my boss! Hey, Honor! Hi, Prudence! Food must be great here! Connor and I were just having dinner, and then I was like, whoa, they’re actually kicking someone out! Kind of exciting! Does that sort of thing happen a lot around here? But everything seems to be under control now. Can Connor and I do anything, Jessie?”