I sit back in my beach chair and readjust my umbrella so only odd angles of my body catch the occasional ray. I enjoy the beach. I like to swim. I don’t like sunburns and freckling, a common downside for redheads like me.
“This bachelorette party rocks.” Kenley runs up from the beach and flops onto a lounge chair, seawater glistening off her dark skin, sand clinging to her feet and calves.
“Great idea, Paisley,” Heather mumbles. She sounds half-asleep, lying there on her stomach, absorbing sun.
“It was a collective effort between Jayne and I. Plus, I wanted to make sure we don’t run into Brinn and his buddies who, I’m told, are staying in Daytona. Welcome to Fernandina Beach.” I spread out my arms and smile at my friends.
“You are aware I specifically said no strippers, so the most excitement this event will get is if one of you gets drunk,” says Josie.
Everyone boos her choice of limiting our debauchery, but I’m relieved. I think most of us are, yet pretend otherwise.
We’re a pretty tame group. Besides the usual suspects, we’ve added her boss and my divorce attorney, Samantha King, and Gigi. Gigi came up late last night and stayed with me.
The plan is to enjoy the sun, have a nice dinner, and hit the town for some pub fun. I scan the faces of the people walking the beach and sunbathing, looking for Hank. I know he lives nearby, and it would be pure coincidence to see him here, yet I keep scanning. I don’t even know if he’s in town.
“Hey, Gigi, we aren’t going to run into Hank here are we? Isn’t he out of town?” I want to punch myself in the face for asking. It’s been a week since the Swan Ball. And we’ve texted twice.
“No, I believe he got back the other night.” She sips an iced tea. It’s odd she’s not drinking. Being away from John and Pete, isn’t this the prime opportunity to do so?
“How’s John?” I always inquire about Pete, never about her husband.
She continues to read her book as she answers me. “Fine. Hates his job but is a workaholic like my father. What did I expect? They say women marry their fathers, and I’m living proof of that.”
I’m glad she isn’t looking at me because I’m pretty sure disbelief shows on my face. John is nothing like her father. Poppy is warm and affectionate to his children and his wife. He’s a dedicated family man who’d rather spend time with his kids than time at work. I’m having a hard time seeing him as a workaholic. John is a quiet man who appears to be irritated by the slightest thing. I can’t recall a time I’ve seen him do activities with his son, and I always seem to interrupt a fight between he and Gigi.
“You said John is keeping Pete this weekend?” I ask.
“Yeah, he took some vacation time and is taking Pete camping.” This time she does look at me and laughs, pointing at my face.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Do you think it will go over well?”
“Yeah. Why? They camp out all the time.” She turns back to her book.
I must have sat gape-mouthed for some time. My conversation with Hank is a resounding reminder that I may not know John at all and if I want to change my strong opinion of him, I should probably base it on fact not just experience. But my experience shouldn’t be discounted.
Of course, to Gigi and Hank, things seem normal because they are too close, unable to gain perspective. Though close to the entire family, I’m able to observe Gigi’s relationship with a divorced eye and know when something is wrong. Lord knows, I love her like a sister, but something in her relationship is rotten for sure and denial is going to get her nowhere. Just like it got me.
As for her remark about how women marry men like their fathers. I’m an exception to the rule. Large, intimidating Scotsmen are hard to find in Florida. Trevor was nothing like my father. He was wiry and secretive; my father had been broad and warm and open. I run through a mental list of men I know and come up with no one remotely similar to my dad. Men like him and Poppy aren’t made anymore. OK, Hank is sort of like my dad. He’s funny and serious, warm and smart. He’s dependable like my dad. He’s trustworthy.
I shrug to no one as my thoughts run wild. OK, the sex with Hank isn’t boring, or the conversation, but if I was in the market for a relationship, Hank still wouldn’t be a candidate. He’d never be around, moves every few years, and he’s my friend. Because of Hank, I’m going to be more prepared and observant so next time I will choose wisely. He’s shown me a new standard for which to measure men and that it’s not overreaching.
I look at the other girls, spread out alongside me on the beach. Heather is the only one looking up at me.
“Was Trevor like your father?” she asks.
“Nope. Is Justin like yours?” It will be interesting to do a poll among our group.
Heather looks over at Kenley, who isn’t making eye contact with anyone. She’s squishing her toes in and out of the sand and staring at the pattern. Heather looks at me and nods her head.
“Justin is just like my dad. Of course, my dad mellowed more with age and became more of a family man after us kids moved out.” She turns to look at Kenley again and it prompts me to ask.
“How ’bout you, Kenley?” Since Heather’s dad is Kenley’s father-in-law and if women married men like their fathers, was the same true for men growing up to be like their fathers? I wouldn’t have guessed Heather’s dad was anything other than superb.
The gang is perking up and joining the conversation. We wait for Kenley to answer. Finally, still staring at her toes, she shakes her head and looks over at Heather. “No, but he wants to be like my father.”
“Ha. Please tell me you aren’t trying to change him,” Josie says. “We know that’s an effort in futility.”
Kenley shakes her head. “What I mean is Doug was raised by an absent father.” She reaches out and takes Heather’s hand. “He wants to be more like my father. He has the potential, something I’ve seen since the beginning.”
I know they’re still struggling with the fertility issues and it does seem as if Doug is coping better. He’s the reason Heather can be here this weekend. He’s keeping her son, with the occasional help from their mother.
“How about you, Josie; Brinn like your dad?” Heather asks.
“In some ways, I guess. I like to think Brinn has the positive traits of my father and none of the bad. More important, I hope I’m nothing like my mother.”
“Whoa. Stop there, you’re starting a whole separate conversation,” Samantha calls out.
“I think I’d need my shrink if we go there.” Kenley laughs.
“I’d consider myself lucky to find a man like my father. He’s lovely and treats my mum wonderfully.” Jayne sighs.
“Is Hank like your father, Paisley?” Heather asks. All eyes swivel to me.
As soon as it’s out, I feel rather than see Gigi sit up straight and I give Heather a large-eyed look of warning.
“My Hank?” Gigi asks.
My smile quivers, and I shrug my shoulder. “Maybe,” I squeak.
Everyone is watching us. Heather’s hands are clasped over her mouth.
“What’s going on with you and my brother?” Gigi leans in toward me. There is no telling which way her emotions are swinging.
“Nothing much.” I strain to smile wider.
Josie snorts. Gigi looks from Josie to me.
“Nothing but hot sex,” Jayne chimes in with her two cents.
I groan and close my eyes, as a wave of nausea hits me. I’ve been dreading this moment.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell her,” Josie says, sotto voce.
“You slept with my brother? Were you drunk or something?” Gigi’s voice starts to climb.
“Yep,” says Josie
“Just the first time,” I say to Josie with attitude.
“There was more than one time?” Gigi chokes.
“He was drunk the second time. Hmm, Paisley. Have you two ever had sex without drinking?” Josie is smug.
“For your information, we actually have had sex without any alcohol being involved whatsoever.” I lean back against my chair and cross my arms. Ha! Put that in your pipe and smoke it. I realize what I’ve said and glance at Gigi, who is staring at me openmouthed.
The others are snickering.
“You’ve slept with my brother repeatedly?” she asks. Her voice is low, quiet.
I gulp and nod. “I wouldn’t say repeatedly, I mean we...uh... Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad because you and Hank have been playing house. I’m mad because you haven’t told me. When did this start?”
I blow out a puff of air. “Right after you canceled going to the surf competition.”
She pauses three beats. Is she lining up the events, figuring out the timeline?
“Oh my God! You mean to tell me the day you came to my house and turned redder than a beet when I asked who you were sleeping with, it was my brother?”
I nod.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her brow is pulled in, her nose scrunched up, and the hurt I’ve caused is reflected in her eyes.
“I was afraid you would think I crossed some line. I never intended for it to happen—”
“Or continue to happen,” Kenley says.
“Shut up.” I point to Kenley but keep looking at Gigi. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We aren’t serious or anything. Please don’t be mad.” It’s like bailing water out of a sinking boat.
Everyone is quiet, and I bite my thumbnail, waiting for Gigi’s next move. She stares at me for what feels like an eternity, and I know she’s processing it.
“That’s too bad, Paisley, because I can’t think of a better person for you than my brother. You already fit into my family, and I’d love to have you for a sister.” Gigi reopens her book and leans back.
“Now wait a minute,” I say. “Let’s don’t take it too far. I don’t think Hank is looking for a girlfriend. I know I’m not looking for a boyfriend, and it wouldn’t work out between us because he’s kind of been my rebound guy.”
“Stupid, isn’t she?” Josie asks.
There’s a round of agreements before Jayne starts filling Gigi in on Jake, the parts I conveniently forgot, and she shoots me a look of disappointment.
“Have you not learned anything? You should snap up my brother and run.” She looks back at her book, irritated.
“What exactly do you mean? I’ve just begun dating again and yes, some have been epic fails. Would it be fair to start a relationship with Hank because we have a good time together and are comfortable with each other?” I shake my head. It’s a sound argument.
“That’s why people start relationships. Some even start them on less,” says Jayne.
“And Hank’s got even more going for him. He’s trustworthy and honest,” says Gigi.
“Not a shitbag. A good dancer, and sexy as hell,” finishes Josie.
“Hell, I’ll take him.” Heather raises her hand.
“Don’t hurt Hank, Paisley,” Gigi whispers. “That’s when this will have gone too far.”
“As if I could, honey. Trust me. Hank has no more interest in me than I do him.”
I reach out to hug her and am relieved when she returns it. It’s good to know she doesn’t hate me.