Page 67 of Feels Like the First Time
Ali tilted her head up to look at her dad. “I bet all the ladies were wanting to dance with you.”
“I couldn’t fend them off, even if I tried.” He waggled a brow. “But that Loraine kept them at bay.”
“I bet she did,” Ali said, wondering when Marty was going to realize that Loraine wanted his toe flicks all to herself. “I bet she would have told you to take it easy, had you explained up front that you’d been out on the water all day.”
Marty gave a guilty smile. “I wasn’t on the water all day, and I didn’t leave the shoreline.”
He also must have left the extra water bottles and high protein lunch at home. “How about yesterday or any other day this week?”
Marty studied the television, which was playing aKeeping Up with the Kardashiansmarathon. “I went out far enough to fish, but I had a sitter with me.”
“And did you explain to your sitter, who doesn’t know jack shit about sailing, what to do if you had another diabetic attack?” Ali asked.
“I was teaching her how to deep-sea fish, so she could impress Jamie on their honeymoon,” Marty said, as ifthatmade everything okay.
“She shouldn’t have to impress him, they’re getting married,” Ali said, her voice thin and shaking. “And you shouldn’t have to impress her either. Love doesn’t work that way. Just like you said love doesn’t keep score, love can’t be earned. It just is.” She sat up so she could face him. “Either he loves her or he doesn’t. Knowing how to deep-sea fish or do a toe flick doesn’t change that. And it never will.”
When Ali had finished, she realized that she was standing and she was so close to tears, her voice was hoarse. Her hands were shaking and her chest was a tangle of knots, which kept pulling tighter and tighter, making her wonder if that was what her dad had felt before he hit the boat’s dock.
Before Loraine had called 911.
“Maybe not. But at least I know that it has nothing to do with me,” Marty finally said. “People don’t all bloom at the same time. Some people are late bloomers in life, and others in love. Some struggle with both. I might struggle with the life part of the equation, but I know how to love.”
“I know,” Ali whispered, not even wanting to imagine what her life would be like if she lost that. “It’s a gift I have felt every day from you. Which is why I hate seeing people take advantage of that.”
“People can’t take advantage of what I offer freely.” Marty patted the bed, and when Ali sat, he took her hand in his. It felt frail and cold, but steady. “You came into the world knowing who you were, your sister is still figuring it out. But I’m going to love her until she learns how to love herself. That’s my job and my privilege as her father. Just like it will be my great privilege to love you, even though you sit me on the sidelines because you have everything already figured out.”
“I’m single, spend my weekends with my dad, and still play with my old tools,” she choked out. “Trust me, Dad, the struggle is real.”
“Your dad seems like a righteous guy, and last I heard, you were canoodling with the town’s hottest catch.”
“Who sayscanoodling?” she whispered, resting back against the headboard.
With a watery grin, Marty put his arms around her and pulled her into his side. “The only thing you struggle with, honey, is waiting for the rest of the world to catch up to your plan. But they will catch up, I promise.”
Ali hoped that this was one promise that would come true, because she was pretty sure she’d been Hawked—and there was no coming back for her this time.
***
It was three in the morning by the time Hawk made it to Ali’s apartment. He’d snatched his old jersey, as promised, and that thirty-year-old bottle of Scotch he’d been saving. It was warm inside her place, and Hawk smiled, hoping Ali had kicked off the covers in her sleep and was in nothing but those panties.
Quietly he made his way down the hallway to find the sheets tossed back, just how he’d imagined. But the bed was alarmingly short onEAT MEpanties, and his sleepover buddy. That’s when Hawk saw the scribbled note on the nightstand, and he knew exactly where Ali was.
That he wasn’t there with her, and that she had to go there alone, brought back a sense of helplessness that he hadn’t felt since his career ended.
He grabbed a small tote and filled it with things he thought might bring comfort, then headed to the hospital. The drive was a nightmare. The town had only three stoplights. He’d hit every one. Giving him more than enough time to wonder why she hadn’t called him.
He would have closed the fucking bar the second she had. He’d done it before, when Marty had his heart attack. But she hadn’t called.
The only reason he could come up with was, they were sexy friends. He could have clarified that the other day in his apartment, or even tonight on the phone, but somehow he’d stalled on giving them a title.
Sure, the town thought they were dating, and in reality they were. But he wanted a real conversation with her, about starting a real relationship, when he didn’t have to deal with his ex walking through his life and stirring up shit that didn’t need to be stirred. So, like an idiot, he’d decided to wait untilafterthe wedding, when Bridget was gone and he had his town—and Ali—all to himself.
Only Ali was at the hospital and she hadn’t felt comfortable enough to call.
Jesus, he thought as he found out Marty’s room number and walked down the hallway, he hoped to God it wasn’t another heart attack.
But when he opened the door to the private room, all of his thoughts focused in on the person he’d been the most concerned about.
