Finding Joy (The Joy Series) (Volume 2) (29 page)

“Do you know what I just realized?” she asked, running a finger up my arm.

“What? That you need to learn how to cook so you can keep me fed and happy?”

“No. I’ve never seen you drunk before last night. I mean, I’ve seen you drink, but I’ve never seen you actually drunk.”

She had never seen me drunk, because I didn’t typically get drunk. Aside from the month when she had left me and I’d drowned my sorrows in one bottle of whiskey after another, I didn’t allow myself to drink like that. The fear that I’d turn out just like my mom ran too deep.

But I learned a long time ago not to make a big deal of it either. I didn’t owe anyone an explanation as to why I wasn’t a big drinker. As long as you had a drink in your hand, everyone was happy. No one seemed to ever notice that I always stopped at two.

But last night I hadn’t stopped at two. Or four. I might’ve stopped at six. Even that seemed overly optimistic.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. Was I a terrible jackass?” I wracked my brain for any jackass-type shit I might have pulled. I mean, I was in the Harper house. The potential for a jackass flare-up was high.

I mentally flipped through the events of the day before. Lunch had been good. We’d eaten in the formal dining room, just the four of us sitting at one end of the table that could’ve easily sat eight more.

It had been fine. Nice, actually. Despite his icy reception at the front door and then again down in the basement, Garrett had unexpectedly warmed up to me. I wondered what Allie had said to him in the basement. No doubt she was responsible for his change in attitude.

After lunch, we’d all gone back down to the basement to watch the game on the big screen. Garrett had continued to play bartender, and that’s where drinks two through six … or more … had been served. Eventually it had caught up with me. The last thing I remembered was starting the movie.

Apparently, it was Harper family tradition to spend Thanksgiving night with the Griswolds. Allie had boasted that she could recite every line of
Christmas Vacation
. It was too bad that part of the night was such a blur.

“Not at all. You were fine. Funny, actually. I think you and my dad have officially mended fences.”

“Hmmm, I wish I could remember that.” If it took getting drunk to mend fences with her old man, it was worth it I suppose. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it sober.

“And your mom? Did we mend fences, too?”

Allie laughed. “You don’t remember? She was drunker than you were. You two shared a pie before she put herself to bed around six. She didn’t make it to movie night.”

“We ate an entire pie?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said.

Wow. That wasn’t my style. I didn’t typically go for sweet foods. And Allie’s mom looked like she kept herself perpetually hungry. She probably hadn’t taken four bites of her Thanksgiving meal, which might have had something to do with how drunk she’d gotten.

“It was impressive. So what’s on the agenda for today?” she asked, nervously picking lint off the blanket between us.

That’s right.
One day down and one to go.

I was not looking forward to today.

“Well, I need to go see my mom.”

“Okay. When are you going to go?” We’d already agreed that I would go alone. I think Allie had been relieved. It would be a while before I could think about putting them together in a room ... maybe never.

“I’ll go this afternoon if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfect. My dad asked me to go golfing with him later this morning.”

“You golf?” I don’t know why I was surprised. We grew up only 10 blocks apart, but she’d had much more of a country club upbringing than I’d had.

“Actually, I just caddy. Or, really, I just drive the cart. It’s kind of another Harper tradition.”

There seemed to be more than a few of those.

“I was thinking that after I get done at my mom’s, we could go out to dinner. Just the two us. Maybe go down to Greenville.”

“Like a date?” she asked, pulling in closer to my side and laying her head on my chest.

I dug my hand into her messy morning hair.
Exactly
, I thought.
Like the date we should’ve had 10 years ago and never got.
“Yes, like a date. Do I not take you on enough dates?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, giggling into my chest. “We go out a lot. But usually we have an entourage.”

It was true. When we went out, the whole gang was usually with us. I pulled her in tighter and made a mental note to take her out more, just the two of us.

Just the two of us
. That thought made me clench up inside. Why couldn’t it always be just the two of us? Why did she want to bring a little person into the mix to mess this up?

I pushed the thought from my head. She hadn’t brought it up again, and I certainly wasn’t going to today. I had enough on my plate for today.

“I just want to have a quiet dinner tonight. No parents. No drama. Cool?”

“Cool. Sounds perfect, actually,” she said. “And then afterwards, we can finally make it to our hotel room, and I can give you that room service I promised.”

“Speaking of room service ... did you sleep in here, too?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Your parents are cool with that?” I asked.

“Gee, I don’t know. I didn’t ask them. I don’t think they should get much say in who their 28-year-old daughter sleeps with or where. I mean, we live together. I think they realize that means that we sleep in the same bed.”

“I just mean, your dad is barely tolerating me being in his house. This may push him over the edge.”

“He was more than tolerating you last night. You two were really yucking it up.” She giggled, and I reached down to tip her face up so that I could see it. As I suspected, it was there. The girl in the hall photo shined from beneath her clear blue eyes.

This reconciliation made her very happy, and
that
made me very happy.

I groaned. “So you’re saying we made some progress? And now I’m in his princess’s bed.”

Allie snorted. Her light fingers tickled their way down my stomach until she found my junk and grabbed a handful through my boxers. “Get up,” she said.

Get up? I wasn’t sure whether she was talking to me or my dick until she rolled off the side of the bed.

“This princess is hungry. Meet you downstairs. Mom’s making breakfast,” she said, throwing the door open.

“And by that, I mean she’s pouring bowls of cereal,” she said.

I looked down at the tent I was pitching under the blanket. “What am I supposed to do about this? I thought you said you were bringing me room service.”

“I don’t know, but whatever you do, don’t bring it downstairs. I don’t think my mom could handle it,” she said. Her laughter trailed behind her down the hall.

I would have to wait it out. The situation was awkward enough as it was.

CHAPTER 17

Alexis

I drove the golf cart past the bunker on nine and parked close to where I knew his ball should be. My dad had been quiet all morning. I’d been patient, letting him find the words in his own time. But I knew an apology was coming. And it was overdue.

“Allie, girl,” he said, looking off in the direction of the clubhouse, where Dallas’ finest would be sitting down for a late brunch.

“Yeah, Dad.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say,” he said. “I’m an asshole, but I never meant to be. Not when it comes to you.”

Garrett Harper is an asshole.

I’ve heard it my whole life, but I’ve never put much stock in what people said about him … about what I’ve read in the paper … because that’s just what people say about men like my dad. He was successful. He was a lawyer. That combination, alone, made him an asshole.

Hearing it come out of his mouth was a new experience for me. The fact that it now rang true was hard to bear.

“Do you even know what you did? How much unnecessary pain you caused?”

He let out a heavy sigh that sounded a little like defeat. It was not an emotion he wore easily. “Yes. I think so. Your mom has been trying to make me see the error of my ways. But I was only trying to protect you. I never meant to hurt you.”

I didn’t doubt that. He had always been my biggest supporter, my number one fan, my champion. Now I knew the extent to which he would go to protect me.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked.

What he’d done wasn’t right. Until my dying day, I’d wish that he had done things differently. He should have been up front with me about the accident. Keeping it from me was nearly criminal. But was it unforgiveable?

If I’d learned anything during the past few months, it’s that everyone deserves forgiveness. If you’re willing to ask for it ... and beg for it when it’s warranted … well I’d like to think that some mercy would be shown. I had been shown a lot of mercy recently.

If Adam could forgive me, how could I deny the same to anyone else? Let alone my father.

“Yes,” I answered simply. “But I’m not the only one you hurt.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But Adam was not my concern at the time.”

“And is he now?”

“No … yes … maybe. If he’s important to you, he’s important to your mom and me.  But at the time I was trying to figure out how to deal with the accident, he was no one to me. You were my baby. It looks like it worked out for the best anyway.”

“The ends do not always justify the means,” I answered, shaking my head.

“No. But in this case … if you had known the truth, do you think you two would be together today?”

It was something I’d never considered, but he was absolutely right. If I had known who Adam was the night I met him in the Library, I wouldn’t have gone home with him.  I wouldn’t have even been able to talk to him. My shame and his hate would’ve gotten in the way.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he’s good for you. And he loves you. Things happen for a reason.”

“So you’re telling me that you can accept us together?” I asked. If so, this trip had worked out better than I could’ve possibly hoped.

“I’ll do right by him,” he said, nodding. “I can see that he’s your future.”

“He is.”

“Good. Grab on to him and don’t let go. You two are in for a long, crazy ride. Your mom and I … we had it easy. Nothing will be easy for the two of you. But you’re up for it. My girl’s never shied away from a challenge. Just keep your priorities in order and always put each other first. I know that sounds rich coming from an asshole like me.”

“You’re not an asshole, Dad. Just misunderstood.”

“Hmmmm,” he said, getting out of the cart and reaching back for a club.

“You may have some trouble convincing Adam of that,” he said as he walked off in the direction of his ball.

Adam

Walking into the open door of the garage was a little like coming home. I would be going to my mom’s later, but
this
… this was coming home.

A familiar pair of legs stuck out from beneath a late model 911. A few muffled curse words were uttered, and a clang rang out as a tool hit the concrete floor.

“Don’t you ever take a day off, old man?” I asked.

“Not when there’s work to be done,” a deep, booming voice answered from beneath the Porsche.

Warren was a master when it came to imports and had a reputation as the go-to man in the metroplex. His small shop serviced virtually every Porsche, Mercedes, and BMW that wasn’t under warranty in the Highland Park area … and that was a lot of cars. He had even been under a few Ferraris and Bentleys throughout the years. However, fancy imports weren’t where his passion really lay.

“Can I do something for you?” he asked, kicking the creeper and himself out from under the car. As soon as Warren’s head cleared the undercarriage and his eyes landed on me, a warm smile spread across his weathered face.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite city boy,” he said, sitting himself upright and extending an arm in my direction. I grabbed hold of his big, greasy hand and pulled him up. As soon as he was on his feet, a firm hand gripped my shoulder and squeezed. No doubt he was leaving a mark there, too. “You here visiting your mom for the holiday?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t come to town without seeing you,” I said, rubbing my hand on my jeans and leaving a streak of black grease down my legs.

“I’m sure glad you did. It’s been a couple of years, I think. And I’ve got towels for that, you know.”

He was right, and it made me feel like shit. I hadn’t come around much since moving to New York.

“Don’t look so sad, boy. You’re always welcome around here. Come on, let’s go get a drink. I’m due for a break. And, I’ve got a GTO in the back that you need to take a look at.”

“Are you kidding me? Is it yours?” The 1969 Pontiac GTO had long been Warren’s dream car. I had listened to him talk about that car for years, but I’d about given up on him actually taking the plunge and buying one.

He led me into his office and started digging around in the little refrigerator that I knew contained nothing except root beer and leftover ketchup packets. “Hell, yeah, it is. I know I always said I wanted a 1969 like the Judge but this ’65 came along, and I couldn’t pass her up,” he said, handing me a root beer.

“Well, I’m proud of you,” I said. “I really didn’t think you would ever do it.”

“Yeah, well, you kind of inspired me. There wasn’t anything I loved more than working on that car of yours with you. When you finally drove her out of here that day … God, she was a beauty … I knew then that I needed to get off my ass and do something. Come on. I’ll show you.”

He led me through the doorway that separated the working area of his shop from the special projects that he kept in the back. Most of the space was used to store cars that he was working on for rich old men who were still trying to relive their youth.