Hold on My Heart (25 page)

“So, what do you think about Thanksgiving with my family?” Libby asked as they snuggled together under the covers. “Sorry my mother put you on the spot like that.”

Tom adjusted his pillow and twined a lock of Libby’s gold hair around his index finger. “You looked a little surprised by her invitation, too. Sorry she put
you
on the spot.”

The idea of dinner with the Hamilton family had been on his mind ever since Beverly had made the offer. Last year Rachel had celebrated with her grandparents and he’d stayed home, watching old home movies and getting drunk by himself, just like he’d done on Christmas and New Year’s Eve. It was not a tradition he planned on keeping. One year of that was enough.

“I’m good with it,” Libby said, moving a little closer. “I mean, I’d be glad to have you there. Or I would, if… if you’d be glad. I’m just not sure where you are with all of this.” She gestured toward the bed, but he knew what she meant. Whatever was between them had yet to be defined, as if he were unfolding a map but didn’t know at what county he was looking.

A little crease formed between her eyebrows. “And like I said before, I don’t want to be anybody’s quicksand and drag you into where you don’t want to be. I know my family can be a little overwhelming.”

Remorse tapped him on the shoulder. “I told you I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

She smiled then, but the question was still evident in her eyes. “Yes, you did, but I can hardly blame you. Why do you think I moved to Chicago in the first place? My family can be very needy. I guess I can be, too.”

That was laughable. All she’d done was give and give and give. “I don’t see you as needy at all.”

“Really? You don’t think showing up here to seduce you with pizza and beer isn’t needy?”

Tom’s laughter rolled from deep inside. “Uh, I thought it was incredibly generous, so I guess it’s all in how you look at it. But you’re right. This is sort of uncharted territory for me, and I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about spending the day with your family. Please don’t think I’m saying I have regrets, because I don’t. I’m just not sure how all the pieces fit together. Especially with Rachel.”

“Or where I fit in? I can understand that.” She traced a finger over his shoulder.

“You do?” His relief was cool rain on a hot day.

“Yes. This has all been kind of unexpected for me, too, you know. Not that long ago I was living with someone in Chicago and thinking my life was right on track. I didn’t realize then how wrong I was. Or how different things could be.”

He’d never asked Libby specific questions about her life before coming back to Monroe. It never seemed necessary, since she was prone to sharing details most people save for their doctor or their priest. Aside from the volume of things she volunteered about her career, he’d also gleaned quite a bit from the fragments of conversations he’d overheard between her and her sister, or Libby’s chats with Peter.

One thing he knew for certain, though. That old boyfriend sounded like a grade-A asshole. Thinking of Libby in that guy’s bed, or in any other guy’s bed, made Tom want to put his fist through a wall.

He gave her hip a squeeze instead. “It’s different for me, too. But I guess we should take this day by day. Don’t you think?” His heart sped up as he waited for her answer. Her blue eyes were dark in the dim light of the bedroom.

“I think that’s a pretty good plan.”

More relief.

“But I want you to know, Libby, I am glad—about all of this.” He lifted his hand from her hip and circled it over them.

Her smile was sweet. “Me, too.”

He kissed her then, but his stomach growled, and pizza beckoned. It was about the only thing that would make him get out of that bed.

He and Libby dressed and relocated to the pine table in the kitchen to eat. He opened two slightly warm beers and handed one to her before taking a sip of his own.

“How is your dad feeling about the ice-cream parlor these days? He seemed pretty reluctant to say much in front of your mom.” He pulled a piece of pizza onto a plate and passed it to Libby.

“He’s worried about the money. He wants to make sure you get paid, of course. I think he’s concerned he’ll run out of cash before you have time to finish.”

“I’m not going to leave him in a lurch. We’re only a little behind schedule because of his accident. And his help.” Tom smiled at her, and Libby chuckled.

He took a bite of pizza. It was room temperature and soggy, but he didn’t care because Libby hadn’t buttoned her blouse up all the way, or put on her bra, and the shadowy crease of her cleavage was right in his sight line.

“But he’s spent more on supplies than he budgeted for,” she said. “He was actually hoping it would be done faster than you guys had originally talked about so he could open for business sooner. He just hadn’t said anything to you yet. But now with his leg, I’m just not sure what’s going to happen.”

“Well, I’ll do my best. The detail work with restoration can be time-consuming, but you know I’ll work it fast as I can.”

He was already working as quickly as possible. That was just his nature, but this project had taken on a personal aspect he’d never expected. He didn’t want to disappoint Peter Hamilton, and he especially didn’t want to disappoint Libby. He’d figure something out.

“You know I’ll help in any way I can, too,” Libby added. “Or do I slow you down as much as my dad does?” She took a bite, and a droplet of marinara landed on her chin before she wiped it away.

“You slow me down in a completely different way.” He took a long drink from his bottle, and she smiled.

“In what way?”

“You bring me to an absolute standstill every time you climb up on a ladder and wiggle your ass at me.”

Libby burst out with laughter and set down her pizza. “I have never done that.”

“I swear to God, you do it every day.”

T
om arrived at Rachel’s grandparents’ place at six thirty sharp, and as usual she was standing outside. This time she was even waiting at the end of the driveway, her nose pink from the cold.

“Hi there,” he said as she pulled open the door and scrambled in.

She shivered, and buckled her seat belt. “Hey, thanks for being on time. It’s freezing out.”

He glanced at his watch. “I am on time, aren’t I?”

“Yes. I wasn’t being sarcastic.” Rachel smiled, her dimples deepening. “God, Dad, can’t you even tell when I’m being nice?”

Her teasing warmed him. It had been such a long time. “I guess I’m just not used to it.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but playfully, with none of the past drama, and he was struck by the difference in her since they’d started seeing Dr. Brandt. And even more so since he’d said he didn’t expect her to move in with him. She’d dug in like a mule over that, and now that the decision was up to her, she’d relaxed. He’d made the right choice, even though he still missed her like crazy.

“How’s school going?” he asked as he put the truck in gear and started to drive. He hoped to approach the topic of Thanksgiving with the Hamiltons, but this was a far safer subject to start with.

“Not bad. How’s the ice-cream parlor coming along?”

“Pretty good. Should be finished by Christmas.”

It felt good that Rachel had even asked. It was the first bit of interest she’d shown in him in ages. “Mr. Hamilton is doing pretty well, hobbling around on those crutches. He and his daughter stop by a few times a day to check on the progress and help with what they can manage. Hey, speaking of the Hamiltons, I wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving.”

“What about it?” Something shifted in her tone, a hesitation, the guard rising.

He glanced her way, but she was staring straight ahead instead of at him. He turned his eyes back toward the road. “Well, since I’ve been doing so much work for them, and since I was there to help out when Mr. Hamilton fell and everything, they’ve invited me to have Thanksgiving dinner with them. But what I was really hoping was that you and I could spend the day together, or even just part of the day. I’m not sure what your grandparents have planned, though.”

He ended up almost stammering, and it frustrated him down deep. He shouldn’t have to ask Anne and George’s permission to spend a holiday with his daughter. That wasn’t Rachel’s fault, of course, but it was something he needed to fix. Soon.

Rachel fidgeted with her gloves. “Well, it’s kind of funny that you should mention that, because I wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving, too.”

His heart lifted. “You did?”

Rachel nodded. “Yeah, see, I’ve been invited to go skiing that weekend in Colorado with… with a friend. And I wondered how you’d feel about that.”

And down it came again. That was hardly the response he’d been hoping for. “Colorado? That’s pretty far away for a weekend trip.” That wasn’t the only issue he had with that idea, but he’d tackle them one at a time.

“I’d have to miss a couple of days of school. I’d leave next Monday and come home the Sunday after Thanksgiving.”

“So you’d be gone almost a week? Who’s the friend?” Not that it mattered. He wasn’t about to let his fifteen-year-old daughter travel halfway across the country over a holiday weekend.

“Um, it’s the Robertsons. Do you know them?”

He shook his head and tried to remember anyone from town with that name and a daughter Rachel’s age. The only Robertsons he knew were… Shit. “You’re not talking about Don and Lindsay Robertson, are you?”

He glanced at his daughter. She bit her lip. Don and Lindsay Robertson only had sons. Big, lanky, hormonal sons.

“Um, yeah, actually, that is who I’m talking about. So you do know them, huh? Excellent.” She tried to make her voice all singsongy and breezy, as if she wasn’t asking him if she could go away for a week with a boy. A boy who had to be about seventeen years old.

“So, this friend of yours, is it a boyfriend?” Tom felt a little nauseated and couldn’t keep the edge from his tone.

Rachel tapped her fingers on her legs. “Sort of, well, yes. But it’s not like it’ll be just Jake and me. I mean, his parents are going, too. And his brothers. We’ll be supervised the entire time. And they’re all really good skiers, too.”

“Didn’t that kid get arrested?” Bits of a story were working forward in his mind. A group of sixteen-year-old boys. A pasture. Farm animals.

Rachel sighed, and her expression turned from optimism to exasperation. “He tried to tip a cow and got arrested for trespassing. That hardly counts.” She was looking at him now like she was ready to rumble about it.

Tom scoffed. “It counts as stupid.”

“Oh, and you never did anything stupid?” There it was, the old snark to her tone.

But she did have a point.

He took a big, deep breath, just like Dr. Brandt had taught him to do.

“Yes, Rachel. I have done many stupid things in my life, and I would hope you’d learn from my mistakes rather than repeat them.” That sounded pretty logical, but in his head, what he really meant to say was No
fucking way are you going somewhere with this kid.

Rachel took her own deep breath and huffed it back out. “I
have
learned from your mistakes, Dad, which is exactly why I’m perfectly safe going away with a boy and his parents for a week of skiing. Honestly, there is zero percent chance of me getting pregnant.”

His stomach felt like a water balloon about to hit the pavement. That was exactly what he’d been thinking, of course, but to have her throw it out there so bluntly, and in such a superior way, was enough to knock the air from his lungs. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

He rolled the window down, the heat in the truck suddenly stifling. He unzipped his coat a bit. Is this how George had felt every time Connie snuck out of the basement window to go for a late-night joyride with him?

God, no wonder George hated him so much. All Tom had ever heard was Connie’s side, that her father was overbearing and overprotective. That may have been true, but now Tom understood the reasons behind that better than ever. The drive to protect his daughter was at the root of it.

“It’s not just that, Rachel,” Tom said, although that was most of it. “It’s the travel and the missing school. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

“I’ve already asked my teachers, and they’re fine with me missing. It’s only two days anyway because we get Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday off for Thanksgiving. Half the kids are going to be gone that week. I’ll be the only one in class if I go to school.”

He suspected she was scowling but chose not to look.

“What do your grandparents say? Did you ask them?”

Her shrug was noncommittal. “I wanted to talk to you about it.”

That pleased him, that she’d come to him first. It made him feel like her father again. They really were making good progress.

“Even if I wanted to say yes, Rachel, I don’t have the money right now to buy your plane ticket and your ski passes. Colorado is expensive, and I certainly couldn’t expect the Robertsons to pay your way.”

“The Robertsons are paying for the condo, and I have some money saved up from babysitting.”