I follow closely behind him as he turns on his heel and heads for a pile of stuff about twenty feet away. I have to assume it’s his. Either that, or the news of his involvement in the contest has inspired a robbery of some kind.
Still, I prefer to bank on the latter.
Sand sticks to my feet and nags on the back half of my body as I trudge behind him. He’s focused, though, and doesn’t seem to notice me—the sand yeti—at all.
He digs in the front pocket of his bag and comes out with a phone. His fingers move over the screen.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a boldness I’m not entitled to somehow taking me over.
“I’m calling my daughter,” he answers matter-of-factly. “She has some explaining to do.”
“Maybe she didn’t have anything to do with this? Maybe someone else submitted a personal ad for you?” I offer, and he targets an incredulous yet stern look directly at me.
“Holley, with all due respect, I know my daughter pretty fucking well,” he responds, and his jaw clenches a little. “And I’m one-hundred-percent certain she’s the culprit.”
Uh oh.
I wince, feeling seriously sorry for the unknown teen now. “Maybe you should…calm down,” I suggest.
Unimpressed with my brazenness—which, quite frankly, I can’t blame him for…I don’t know where it’s coming from!—he spears me with a glare, and I try like hell to speak in coherent sentences as I attempt to explain myself.
“I just…maybe you should read the ad first. Get acquainted with the whole situation before you…” I pause as I backpedal away from saying the words rip her a new asshole. “I have it in my bag.”
Without speaking, he holds out a waiting hand, and I don’t hesitate.
Quickly, so quickly I’m huffing, I run through the thirty feet of sand back over to the spot I left my purse, grab it, and jog back over to him. I open the top flap, dig around, and finally pull out the edition of the paper in which the ads ran for the contest.
Through all of this, he never puts down his hand.
I slide the paper between his fingers, which clamp down immediately, and he begins flipping through the pages furiously.
“It’s on page six,” I say, trying to be helpful.
Clearly, I just can’t help but butt in today.
Once he gets to the right page, the ad is easy enough to find. I have it circled in bright-red pen.
I glance at the paper, and my eyes widen. Okay, so that’s not a circle. How in the fucking bejeezus did I not remember that I put a heart around it?
Embarrassment heats the back of my neck, and if it weren’t for the smeared makeup and sand, he’d probably be able to see some pink in the apples of my cheeks. As it is, I’m pretty sure nothing could make me look out of the ordinary.
“Single Dad Seeks Juliet,” he reads aloud with a slight edge of derision. I suck my lips into my mouth and stay silent. I’m just thankful he hasn’t mentioned my sixth-grade-style doodle that looks like it came straight off Lisa Frank’s production line.
“I can’t believe this,” he mutters to himself as he continues to read, and it’s all I can do not to sneak around and take a peek over his shoulder.
I mean, I’ve read the ad. Several times. But it’s kind of like watching a movie you’ve seen and love for the first time with someone else. It’s all about knowing what parts they’re specifically reacting to.
“I thought it was a really tasteful ad,” I say softly, hoping to shed some kind of positive light on Chloe’s situation.
“Oh, really? Well, I’d like to remind you that Romeo and Juliet fucking killed themselves,” he replies.
Yowzer. I clamp my mouth shut again.
“This just isn’t like her,” he says, more to himself than to me. “To do something like this behind my back. What in the hell was she thinking?”
Now, I know—I know—the question was meant to be rhetorical. But for some reason, I just can’t help myself. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you. Maybe she’s trying to help, you know?”
“By entering me into a fucking ridiculous dating contest?” he questions, and instantly, for the briefest of moments, he actually finds a way to come out of his anger long enough to think about me. “No offense, of course.”
It’s surprising—startling, even. I’ve never seen anything like it before. All the men I’ve ever known didn’t know how to