The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,137

Bell. Sure, I helped out in the evenings, but I had no idea what went on during the day. Sadie and Nate came for a weekend and forced me to man up. I wanted to go straight to the bar and drown myself in liquor.”

“That’s why you got that tattoo,” I say.

He nods. “The stress of suddenly being a single parent, plus the fact that I’d loved Shana, sent me into a black hole. But I couldn’t let that show when I was around Bell, which was basically every hour of every day.”

“What about the garage?”

“My guys held it down.” He looks into the distance and nods. “They’re my family. At home, Flora and Denise stepped in. Flora was a friend of my grandfather’s, and Denise was Shana’s close friend, so they knew Bell. My parents were useless.”

I shake my head. Flora was more than a babysitter, Sadie more than a sister, Denise more than a fling. They’d seen Andrew and Bell through a horrible time. “How’d you get through it?”

“Bell. And my grandfather. He was my role model, and I just kept thinking—if he were here, what would he do? I asked myself that every day for years, and every day, I got my answer. He was a real man. He faced responsibility head on. Once he decided to get sober, he never looked back.”

“I’d like to have met him.”

He smiles a little. “He would’ve loved you. Grandpa had two weaknesses—women and cars.”

“What about your grandma?”

“They split soon after my dad was born, she moved away, and she passed a few years ago.” He pauses, swirling his drink as he thinks. “So that’s it.”

“That’s it?” I ask. “Until now? Did she say why she left?”

He squeezes my knee. “It’s not easy for me to say. I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me.”

I shift against the arm of the couch. If there’s anything to fear about Andrew and his situation, I want to know now. “Go ahead.”

“She never wanted to get pregnant. Bell was an accident, but I pressured Shana . . . I wasn’t exactly open to other options.” He glances at his hand on my leg. “Motherhood was hard for her. She cried a lot. She didn’t connect with Bell. And I made her feel as bad as possible about it, because I didn’t understand. How could she not want this perfect baby that was somehow the tiniest and most enormous thing in my life?”

My chest pangs with regret. When I first met Andrew, his status as a father didn’t appeal to me. Children were nuisances. He never made me feel bad about that—it’s not like either of us had planned on me meeting her—but now that I’m getting to know Bell, I feel protective over her. “Knowing how important Bell is to you, that must’ve been difficult for both of you.”

“I was an asshole. I didn’t give any merit to her doubts or concerns. Considering her penchant for drama, I assumed she was just trying to get a rise out of me—which she usually did. I wasn’t always this . . . sensitive.”

I laugh. Big, hulking, gruff Andrew—sensitive? I’m about to protest, but Andrew really is more sympathetic to and understanding of my needs than any other man I’ve dated. As tough as he comes off, he takes care of what he loves. Shana’s mistakes are my gain. “What changed?” I ask.

He blows out his cheeks with an exhale. “A lot. Bell taught me so much about the opposite sex. She started to come into her personality. I can’t fathom ever discrediting how she feels or trying to change or control her like I did with Shana. That, and with time, I gained perspective on my relationship with Shana. I saw how I’d let her down. Where I could’ve done better.”

“But it couldn’t have been all you,” I say. “You said she was dramatic.”

“Absolutely,” he says. “She wasn’t exactly the gold standard of girlfriends. More than once, I’d come home to find Flora watching Bell because Shana had taken off with some girlfriends. She wouldn’t check with me because she knew I’d say no. She’d come home wasted and make enough noise to wake up the baby, then bitch about the fact that Bell was always crying.”

I cover Andrew’s hand, not to console him, but myself. It’s uncomfortable to hear about another woman’s family and how she let them down. “I’m sorry.”

“She kissed me.” The direct statement surprises me enough that I take my hand back.