Lucky Girl (Dear Rockstar #2)

Lucky Girl (Dear Rockstar #2) Page 15

I laughed. “Once he gets to know you, he’ll be fine.”

“So tell me, is Aimee back from her honeymoon yet?” he asked, picking up the pictures again and leafing through them. I’d mentioned Aimee in our phone conversations.

“Yes, we’re having dinner with them tonight actually.”

“Oh look at this one.” Ben laughed, holding up a picture to the light. “You were the most beautiful little girl. Did Carolyn put curlers in your hair?”

“Is that the Shirley Temple picture?” I glanced over, seeing the white lace dress and the long blonde curls. “She made me wear those curlers to bed. They were torture. Child abuse, I tell you!”

“Is this where you grew up?”

I nodded, looking at the picture. Me and a snowman in front of a little house. Back when the stepbeast only drank—and beat up my mother—on special occasions. I couldn’t remember how many jobs he’d gone through before he couldn’t keep up the mortgage anymore and we’d moved into the apartment complex. Of course, Dale lived in those apartments too, so perhaps it hadn’t been all bad. The universe giveth, the universe taketh away.

Ben continued to sift through pictures, asking questions, genuinely interested, and I found myself unraveling more of my past for him, untangling it as I went. It took hours and we both laughed and cried a little, but it was one of the memories I would hold onto forever, kept in my mind like a sensory snapshot—the smell of roasted coffee, the sweet taste of hot chocolate, the feel of my father’s hand in mine, the big, roaring sound of his laugh.

And when Dale came over and told me it was time to go to dinner, I couldn’t believe it. Had we really talked so long? It had gone by in a blink. I tucked the pictures back into my purse, but I let Ben keep the one he asked for—the Shirley Temple snapshot. And then Ben put his big arms around me and hugged me goodbye. And for the first time in my life I called someone, “Dad,” and meant it.

And even when Dale insisted, I still didn’t want to let him go.

CHAPTER NINE

“I just don’t get why he didn’t try to find you before now.” Dale parked the car in the Olive Garden parking lot, pocketing the keys. Dale still didn’t own a car so we were driving my old Dodge Dart.

“When my mom took off, he says at first he was relieved.”

“Nice.” Dale opened the door for me and I stepped in, my stomach growling. I’d only had a scone and a hot chocolate all day and now I was starving. I could smell garlic and onions. I was suddenly wishing we’d called ahead because all the people waiting in the lobby were standing between me and my dinner.

“Come on, he was just a kid—younger than us,” I reminded him. “Would you want to have to take care of a newborn at that age?”

Dale didn’t answer. He was looking over the crowd, trying to find Aimee and Matt.

“Once he got a little older and thought about looking, he couldn’t find us,” I explained, hanging onto his sleeve as he weaved through the crowd.

“He seemed to find you pretty easy,” Dale countered. “Took him just one afternoon.”

“Well he agreed to the blood test,” I snapped.

Dale stopped, looking back at me. “You asked him?”

“I figured I’d better, before you brought it up,” I said, sticking out my tongue.

He snorted, taking my hand and leading me toward the bar.

“I don’t get why it was so hard to find you before. Didn’t your mom tell her family where she was going?”

“She didn’t see them much.” I shrugged. “One of my first memories is of grandmother asking for our address so she could send me a birthday gift and my mother refusing. I was so mad at her. I just wanted my birthday present.”

“Why didn’t she want them to know where she was?” Dale asked, brow knitted. He was still trying to find Matt and Aimee but I was beginning to think they weren’t here yet. “My grandfather used to beat her. That’s what my mom told me.”

“Why does this not surprise me?” Dale muttered. He stopped, turning around and putting his hands on my hips. “What did Dr. Jarvis say about that when you told him that?”

“You know exactly what he said.” I rolled my eyes. “And he also said he was proud of me for breaking that abusive cycle.”

“With me,” he replied smugly. Then he leaned over, grabbing my ass and whispering, “Because as often as I want to spank you, I refrain.”

“We still have time,” I reminded him, laughing as I pulled away. “We haven’t had kids yet.”

“There will be no spanking in our house,” he proclaimed. “Unless it’s me finally spanking you—”

“Hey guys!” I waved to Aimee and Matt. They were already here, sitting at the bar. My stomach seemed to understand that meant we would get to eat sooner and grumbled loudly.

Turned out we were twenty minutes late, which was perfect because the hostess called us before Dale and I could even find seats. The hostess seated us at a booth and the waitress came to take our drink orders. Aimee had pictures back from their honeymoon. We’d already heard about how blue the water was and about the giant tortoise they’d seen when they were snorkeling and how burnt Aimee got the first day because she forgot to put on sunscreen, but now we got to hear about it all over again, with visual aids.

“At least I didn’t get all sunburned before our wedding night,” she said sheepishly.

“Close enough!” Matt protested. “She wouldn’t let me touch her for three days. Three days!”

“I was beet red.” Aimee sighed. “I think I was redder than my hair. I made him keep going down the hall to get more ice for the bathtub.”

“Just what I wanted to do on my honeymoon,” Matt interjected through a mouthful of breadstick.

“My mom even warned me. She put sunblock in my purse for pete’s sake.”Aimee slapped her forehead. “And I still forgot!”

“You were just too caught up in being Mrs. Aimee Green,” I teased, taking a sip of my Diet Coke and wishing the waitress would hurry up with my Tour of Italy. I couldn’t wait to eat my lasagna—even if it wasn’t quite as good as John’s homemade.

“Anyway, how did the meeting go?” Aimee asked, leaning forward, all ears.

“Yeah, enough about our honeymoon.” Matt shoved the pictures back into the envelope. “Unless you want me to regale you with the tale of four times…”

“Matt!” Aimee blushed, nudging him with her elbow. It must have been pretty hard too because Matt coughed, spewing little bits of bread into the table. “Shut up!”

“That’s nothing,” Dale scoffed. “One night we—”

I didn’t elbow him. I reached over and shoved a breadstick into his mouth instead. Dale bit it and chewed, giving me a doughy grin.

“The meeting was… amazing.” Of course I’d told Aimee about Ben—it was still hard to call him “my dad,” even in my head, but it was getting easier.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed. “Sara, I’m so happy for you.”

“Hold onto the happy for a while,” Dale countered, washing down his bite of breadstick with my Diet Coke. “We haven’t seen the results of blood tests or anything yet.”

“Oh come on, Dale.” Aimee raised her eyebrows at him. “Do you really need to?”

I hadn’t explained Dale’s conspiracy theory about Ben just looking for something sweet out of the deal that had nothing to do with me.

“He could be anybody. I mean, there’s no father’s name on her birth certificate and her mother isn’t exactly around to tell us.”

I winced at that and saw Aimee’s look of sympathy which somehow made it worse. She still had both a mom and a dad—even if they didn’t get along very well, with the exception of her wedding.

“It just seems suspicious to me, that’s all. Maybe I’m wrong.” Dale sat back in the booth, putting his arm over my shoulder. “If the DNA comes back and he’s really Sara’s father, I’ll be the first one to welcome him to the family.”

“Those tests take a long time, don’t they?” Matt asked.

The waitress had arrived with salad and then it was yes, cheese on the salad and yes, we need more refills and sure, bring another basket of breadsticks.

“I saw a show on DNA evidence,” Aimee said. “It took like a month to get the results but they’re pretty conclusive.”

“They’re actually starting to use it to get people out of jail,” Matt remarked.

“Yeah, that was it!” Aimee stabbed an olive on her plate. “It was a death row inmate and the DNA evidence proved he wasn’t even at the scene of the crime!”

“I don’t need a blood test,” I said softly, pushing Italian-dressing soaked lettuce around on my plate. “I just know. Besides, he can answer every question I asked him. He even knew about my birthmark!”

“The one on your shoulder?” Aimee raised her eyebrows. “Geez, Dale. That’s pretty conclusive. You’re going to make the guy submit to a blood test?”

He shrugged. “I’d just feel better if we did one.”

“He agreed to it right away,” I said. “I don’t think he’s worried about it.”

“Well there you go,” Matt said, pointing his fork at Dale. “It’s like lie detector tests. Innocent people never balk at taking them. It’s the guilty ones who hem and haw and find excuses.”

“Like I said, if he’s really the guy, I’ll shake his hand and call him Dad myself.” Dale put his olives on my plate—he hated them and knew I loved them. “I just… I don’t want Sara’s hopes dashed. She’s been through enough.”

“Aww.” I put my arm around him and rested my cheek against his shoulder for a moment. “You’re so good to me.”

He kissed the top of my head.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” I sat up, looking at Dale and then over at Aimee and Matt. “He’s moving here!”

“What?” Aimee exclaimed. “Oh wow! For you?”

“No. He had a job interview here that day he saw my picture in the paper.” I laughed, shaking my head. “That’s why he came back today. To finalize things.”

“You’re kidding.” Dale stared at me.

“Nope.” I shrugged. “I swear, my life is one long string of weird coincidences.”

“Right.” Aimee snorted. “It’s not fate or anything.”

“Or God’s plan,” Matt offered.

“Matt!” Aimee elbowed him. “Ix-nay on the od-gay.”

“What? It could be fate but it couldn’t be God?”

“You have to admit, it’s all pretty weird.” Aimee didn’t answer her new husband. “You’re obsessed with Tyler Vincent—and you meet Dale Diamond, who happens to be Tyler Vincent’s love child.”