The Day He Let Go, page 5
“You take her,” Trent said. “I’m busy.”
“With what?” Jason challenged, and Trent usually liked the sandy-haired lieutenant. They ran together sometimes, and Trent had trusted Jason with some of his most vulnerable moments when it came to women.
But no one knew about Kathy-with-the-boyfriend…except maybe Lauren. How she’d found out, Trent wasn’t sure.
“My yard,” Trent said. “I just hired someone to do the deck. No time for dating.”
Jason snorted. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” He straightened. “Well, are you at least coming to the Magleby Mansion unveiling?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
“Kaitlyn said she has a couple of extra tickets for you and Porty. Unless you already have yours?” Jason looked like he’d rather sit with Trent than his own wife and two girls.
“You need tickets?” Trent didn’t know that.
“They’re free, but yeah.” Jason cocked his head. “You better get them today. I heard they were almost gone.”
“All right.” Trent stood like he’d go get them right now. “Where do I get them?”
“All the businesses on Main Street got a stack, but Mabel has insisted that once they’re gone, they’re gone.” Jason shrugged and added, “Let me know if you need some. Like I said, Kaitlyn got a couple of extra ones.”
Trent lifted his hand in acknowledgement and wondered if he could leave work again to get the tickets. Instead, he pulled out his phone and texted Lauren.
That was a non-disaster. Thank you. He smiled at the words, thinking maybe he wasn’t the worst dating single father on the planet. Did you know we need tickets to the unveiling?
Thanks! she sent back. I had fun too. A few seconds passed before she said, I have tickets for us.
Us.
Trent liked the look of that word, and while he’d never imagined himself with anyone but Savannah, she’d been gone long enough that Trent had lived more of his adult life without her than with her.
Great, he sent to Lauren, and then he started thumbing out a message to his sister. So I’m going to the unveiling on Saturday night with Lauren. Any chance you can babysit?
Instead of answering in a text, his sister called. Trent felt like he was conducting secret mafia business when he lifted his phone to his ear, glanced around, and said, “Hey,” in a whisper.
“Can you talk?”
“Yeah, it’s okay.” Sarah wasn’t even at her desk, and Trent wasn’t sure who he thought would overhear the conversation.
“So you and Lauren Michaels.”
“You say that like it’s impossible.”
Eliza laughed. “Of course not. It’s just…she’s not who I pictured you with.”
Trent took a few moments to think about it. “So she’s different than Savannah.”
“A lot different.”
Trent frowned. Was he supposed to find someone just like Savannah?
“It doesn’t matter,” Eliza said. “You do you. But I can’t babysit on Saturday. We’re going to the unveiling too. It’s why I was in town today with the girls.”
Trent sat back in his chair. “I should probably bring Porter, right?”
“It’s a big town celebration,” Eliza said. “We could take him, if you wanted.”
“And what? Have him see me dancing with Lauren? Holding her hand?”
“I’ve told you, you should talk to him about dating.”
“He’s six.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s blind, or that he doesn’t know what you’re doing when you drop him off here.”
Trent didn’t want to get into this old discussion. Already, the high from completing a non-disastrous first date was wearing off.
“I wonder what Mom and Dad are doing,” he said, thinking it next to impossible to find a babysitter in town who wouldn’t be going to the unveiling.
“They’re coming with us,” Eliza said. “If you’ll remember right, I invited you too. But I guess Lauren’s invitation holds more weight.”
“It’s not that,” Trent said. “She’s the general contractor on the job, and she needs someone at her side for all the pictures.”
“Mm hm. So that’s why you were holding her hand on Main Street today. Four full days before the event.”
Trent half sighed and half laughed. “I guess I won’t be able to go.”
“Sure you can. Talk to Porter.”
“Eliza—”
“Gotta go. Thanks for calling.” She hung up before Trent could tell her that she had called him. Didn’t matter. He’d never succeeded at changing his older sister’s mind about anything.
“Tell Porter,” he grumbled to himself. He hadn’t spent much time talking about his son during lunch. He’d learned quickly that women liked the idea of him having a son, but they didn’t want to spend a lot of time learning about him.
He sat at his desk, his mind whirring. He got up and went out to the training yard, going through the motions of the easier tricks with Pecarino and Brutus.
By the end of the afternoon, Trent could see two choices. Ask Lauren if she had a ticket for Porter too and find out if she was okay with him coming. Or back out and not go at all.
He pulled out his phone to send another text, thought better of it, and dialed her instead.
“Hey,” she said, surprise evident in her voice. “You said you wouldn’t call.”
“No,” he said. “I said I was bad on the phone.” He cleared his throat, the breeze drifting across his face not nearly stiff enough. “I have a problem for this weekend.”
“A problem? Just a sec.” The background noise around her dulled, indicating she’d moved. “All right. I can hear now. What problem?”
“Porter.” Trent squeezed his eyes shut. “I mean, obviously my son is not a problem. It’s just that Eliza and my parents are going to the unveiling. I think the whole town will be there. I don’t have anyone to watch him.”
Trent opened his eyes, not encouraged when Lauren didn’t immediately say, “Oh, bring him. He’ll love it.”
“So I can either bring him with me, or I can’t come.”
As the silence stretched, Trent once again had the distinct feeling that dating shouldn’t be so darn difficult.
“Well, I want you to come,” she said slowly, her voice low and echoing the slightest bit. “So I’ll be honest, and then you can decide with all the facts on the table.”
“Okay.” Trent’s stomach writhed. He didn’t like the seriousness in her voice, especially when he could still feel the ghost of her lips against his cheek.
“I’m…not great with kids.” She gave a light laugh that felt like it weighed two tons. “I don’t like them. They don’t like me. I’ve never wanted any of my own.”
Trent had no idea how to respond. She really was one-hundred-percent different than Savannah, who had wanted to start their family on their honeymoon.
“Oh,” he finally said. “I—can I think about that for a minute?”
“Take all the time you need,” she said. “I can probably get Lyle to come stand by me at the party.”
“Lyle Henderson?”
“Yeah, he does all my cabinetry if the job requires it. We’re friends.”
Trent had not heard her mention a single female friend, and as the thought rolled through his mind, he didn’t know where to put it.
He simply had too many other things to deal with at the moment. “So I’ll call you back in a bit,” he said. “All right?”
“All right.” She sounded like they’d been discussing which color of stain he’d like for his deck, not the entire future of their relationship.
Trent slipped his phone back in his pocket, his brain whirring through what she’d said.
“This doesn’t have to be this big of a thing,” he told himself and the four German shepherds still running around the yard. “It’s a party. She’s going to have to meet Porter eventually.”
Indecision raged in him. Maybe she’d told him about her dislike of children, hoping he’d break up with her. Were they even dating? Did one date count as dating?
If so, he’d dated a lot of people recently.
He didn’t want his sister to be right, but maybe, just this once, she was.
Trent suddenly needed to get home so he could talk to Porter, work things out, and then call Lauren again.
He did not want only one lunch with her; he wanted more. And that thought scared him as much as it drove him to have a hard conversation with a six-year-old.
Chapter 8
Lauren couldn’t focus, and she ended up trying to put the wrong light fixture in the room immediately through the door into the west wing.
Mabel had caught her just before she was about to launch her screwdriver into the painted plaster across the room.
“What’s gotten you all worked up?” Her great aunt had a way of seeing things that Lauren tried to hide.
“Nothing.” Lauren sheathed her screwdriver, Trent’s words still bouncing around inside her brain. “Do you have any of those lemon bars left?”
A group of women had come through the Mansion the day before on their sister’s trip, and Aunt Mabel had made lemon bars and coconut cream pie. But if Lauren knew anything about Mabel, it was that the leftover pie was long gone.
“Down at my house.” Mabel eyed her for another moment, then switched her gaze to the innocent light fixture. “Come on. This can wait.”
Lauren knew nothing could wait, not with the unveiling only a few days away. But she called to Gene that she’d be back soon and followed her great aunt toward the steps.
She steadied Mabel as they went downstairs, through the kitchens, and out a service entrance. A private path edged with ivy on both sides led to Mabel’s home, which sat right on Mansion property.
Lauren felt like she’d swallowed a hurricane, but she didn’t say anything. Thankfully, walking seemed to take all of Mabel’s energy, and she didn’t say anything until she’d entered her home and collapsed in the armchair.
“Lemon bars on the counter.”
Lauren retrieved the whole container and joined her aunt back in the living room. She opened the lid and took out two bars before offering one to Mabel.
She shook her head, still trying to catch her breath. Lauren felt bad for making her come all the way back down here. She’d probably just gotten up to the mansion when she’d witnessed the light fixture abuse.
Lauren kept both lemon bars for herself, completely polishing them off before Mabel said, “Something’s wrong.”
Of course something was wrong. She’d told Trent she didn’t like kids—and he had a kid.
And now she probably wouldn’t fit in her dress too. Not that it matters, she thought. She didn’t have anybody to wear it for.
“It’s a stupid thing,” Lauren said. “I’ll figure it out. But I thought I had a date for the unveiling, and it turns out I might not.”
“Might not?” Mabel reached for a glass of water on the table beside her. Her reading glasses sat there, as did a couple of mint wrappers.
“He’s thinking about it.” Lauren tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “I guess he can’t find a babysitter for his son.”
Only a heartbeat passed before Mabel said, “Trent Baker?”
“Yes.” Lauren saw no point in denying it. Plenty of people had seen them walking hand-in-hand down Main Street.
“Porter’s a nice boy,” Mabel said like that would solve Lauren’s problems.
“I don’t like children, Aunt Mabel.” Lauren leaned forward, so many regrets streaming through her mind, from phone conversations to lemon bars.
She looked up at her aunt, pure desperation pulling through her. “And I told him that. I told him I don’t like kids.”
Aunt Mabel simply stared at her. “Well, that wasn’t very smart.”
“Perhaps not.” But wasn’t it better to be forthright in the beginning? She’d rather know now if she and Trent even had a chance than risk her heart all over again.
“And he doesn’t know about Rick.”
“No one needs to know about Rick,” Aunt Mabel said. “Besides, there’s plenty of time to talk about past relationships. Has he said much about his wife?”
“Not much.”
“See? He won’t care about Rick.”
“Probably not.” Lauren glanced at the lemon bars, really wanting a third. “But I don’t even know if there will be a second date now that I’ve said I don’t like children.”
Mabel rocked back and forth in the armchair. “He and Savannah were married right here at the Mansion. I can remember it like it was yesterday.” She wore a nostalgic smile, and Lauren decided she really didn’t have time to take a trip down memory lane with her great aunt. Especially if the memories were going to be about Trent and his first wife.
He should get to tell her whatever he was comfortable sharing, and Lauren stood. “I have so much to get done still. Thanks for the lemon bars.”
“Of course.” Mabel didn’t make a move to get up. “Tell Jaime to send my dinner down here, would you?”
“Sure thing.” Lauren swept a kiss across Mabel’s forehead and made the walk back up to the Mansion, hoping she hadn’t messed things up with Trent quite yet.
She got the light fixtures installed properly, did the touch up painting on the baseboards in the whole space, and hung three mirrors before her back complained very loudly that she’d had a long day. And that she’d have another one tomorrow.
Trent still had not called, and it had definitely been longer than a few minutes.
So, feeling brave and bold and everything she currently wasn’t, she called him.
“Hey, there,” he said easily, like the last time they’d interacted was in the parking lot at the community center.
“Hey.” She kept one hand on the steering wheel and both eyes on the road as she navigated toward the beach and not the town. “I’m wondering if you’ve had time to think about it.”
“I have.”
Lauren waited. “And?” she said when he remained quiet.
“I’ve talked to my son,” he said. “And my sister, and we’ll be there this weekend.”
Relief rushed through her. “That’s great.”
“Eliza will take Porter while we do…whatever it is your great aunt needs you to do. But I’ve spoken with him about you. He asked if you’d show him how to build the deck.” Trent chuckled, but it sounded strained along the edges.
Lauren pushed a laugh out too. “Okay, great. I’m sure I can show him how to build a deck. It’s not all that hard.”
“Mm, okay.” Trent sounded like he didn’t believe her.
Lauren pulled into the empty parking lot overlooking the beach. She rolled the window down to get the scent of spray and salt. “So are we going to talk about what I said?”
“The part about you not liking kids?”
“Yeah, that part.”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right ones.”
Lauren sighed. “Maybe.”
“Porter’s awesome, and he’s excited to meet you. Besides, I’m not ready to stop seeing you.”
An instant smile sprang to Lauren’s lips. “Is that right?”
“About right, yeah.”
“Okay, so do I need to meet Porter early on Saturday?” Her nerves felt like someone had just tased them. “Or should I come over and meet him before? Or—”
She stopped talking when Trent started laughing. “Relax, Lauren. He’s a six-year-old, not a trained assassin.” Something banged on his end of the line. “I have to go check that. How about you bring over a pepperoni pizza tomorrow night? You’ll be his favorite person then.”
Crying came through the line, drowning out Lauren’s “Okay,” and Trent practically yelled, “Okay, see you tomorrow,” before hanging up.
Lauren sat in her truck, listening to the waves but unable to see them. She had the distinct feeling she’d just gotten in way over her head with Trent and his son. But she had a date for Saturday night—and tomorrow—and she’d just keep swimming until her head broke the surface.
“Just like always,” she told herself as she put her truck back on the road and headed home.
Lauren almost dropped the pizza when she wiped her free palm down the front of her pants—again.
The front door opened before she’d even touched one of the steps, and Trent filled the doorframe. The sight of him wearing jeans and a T-shirt with the word COP on it made her suck in a breath and hold it while she climbed up to the porch.
He took the pizza boxes from her with a smile. “You look nice.”
She glanced down at herself to remember what she wore. And it wasn’t nice. Her black work pants that had a lot of dust and paint specks on them, and a T-shirt that should’ve been washed last week.
“I didn’t have time to change,” she said. “The artist my aunt hired to do a few pieces showed up today, and she needed help with some installation. That put me way back on a few things, and yeah.”
She stepped into his house, expecting it to be as immaculate as his lawn. But it so wasn’t. Shoes lay by the front door, toys littered the floor, and there was some sort of…fluff everywhere.
“The dogs got new toys today,” Trent said, stepping over everything. “They shred them to bits.”
She followed him into the kitchen to find all four canines lined up, one of whom had a stuffed squirrel firmly clenched in his jaws.
“They’re so cute.”
“They are not.” Trent put the pizza on the counter and stepped over to a hall that led further into the house. “Porter! Pizza’s here.”
Trent met her eye. “Nervous?”
“Absolutely.”
“Me too.” He licked his lips. “I’ve never introduced my son to a woman.”
Before Lauren could respond, a dark-haired boy came barreling out of the hallway, a dinosaur clutched in his fist. “Did you get pepperoni?”
He didn’t even seem to see her standing there, and Trent said, “Porter, remember how I said my friend was bringing the pizza?”
Lauren cringed internally. Friend? Was that what she was? She had no idea what six-year-olds could or could not understand, and she supposed that she wasn’t Trent’s girlfriend.
