“I can still throw something at you.” She smiled as she stretched, bringing my attention to her long, gorgeous legs. “I hate to disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me, sweetheart, you’re too perfect.”
“I don’t know about that. You’re just trying to soften me up so that I forget about earlier.”
“You're perfect for me,” I assured her and watched as she simply stared back at me as we both remained silent. There were so many times I wanted to tell her I loved her, only I was terrified that she would feel it was too early. I’ll admit I never thought I’d be feeling and thinking the things I was in regard to any girl, but I was head over heels, in real fucking deep with AJ.
“I brought ice cream,” I said, pushing back the feelings and swallowing past what felt like a huge ass lump in my throat. “Your two favorites, and I don’t even expect you to lick them off my body. Unless of course you want to, that is.”
“I can’t believe your uncle heard me talking the way I was earlier.” She covered her face and groaned. “How embarrassing.”
“He was young once.” I tried to soothe her, but who the hell was I kidding? I’m sure by now he’d told Aunt Maria, she had told my mom, and so on as it slowly trickled down the family tree.
“They’ll all think I’m some sex-crazed fool that’s corrupted their sweet Rhett.”
“Babe,” I said, causing her to only part her fingers and peek through the cracks. “They all know that it’s me who’s corrupted you.” I waggled my brows, causing her to laugh. “What do ya say we go dish out some of this ice cream and watch the game with your dad?”
AJ lowered her hands and her forehead wrinkled up as she looked back at me.
“What?” I shrugged. “I like that guy. He’s laid back and cool.” I grabbed her hand and yanked her up. “I think I made a good impression by showing up with the two things you love most when you’re pissed.” I held up the bag and shook it. “Let’s go hang with Mr. Duncan.”
Chapter Nineteen
AJ
“Rhett seems like a good young man.” I reached into the refrigerator for the gallon of milk and turned around to face my father. “He is,” I agreed with a smile I couldn’t control.
“Is he the same Rhett they talk about on the local news in reference to the unstoppable shortstop at Georgia State?”
“The very same,” I assured him as I poured the two of us a glass.
My father was a sports fanatic, maybe a little too much at times. I felt like it was a substitute for what he was lacking in his personal life. I wished he would put the same amount of passion into meeting a nice woman to share dinner with, or even a simple walk on occasion. I just felt like he really didn’t have anything to look forward to, so he got lost in the world around him instead of facing his own wants and needs.
“What are his plans for the future?” he asked as he sat down at the table in the space across from me. “After college, I mean. Does he plan to carry out the baseball career, or does he have something else he’d like to do?”
“I don’t think baseball was ever something he wanted to do as his lifelong dream. He’s actually pursuing a major in Business. He wants to help his father expand his construction firm and eventually takeover himself.” I watched as my father nodded in approval. “I do, however, see him doing something like coaching junior high, or even high school baseball so that he still gets in his love for the game too.”
I’ll admit that I had imagined him coaching his own children, our children, one day. Premature maybe, but I loved those visions.
“His dad owns Jackson’s Construction.” I quickly pulled my head out of the clouds and back to our conversation. “He works for him now on the side, and I think he’ll probably end up doing something with him. Drawing up plans for new constructions. He talked about them wanting to expand into that market, hire more people.”
“Ambitious.” My father nodded as he lifted a spoon full of hash browns into his mouth. We both sat in silence, eating and thinking until he finally spoke again. “Your mother called.”
“Wha—” I begin to choke and reached for my glass of milk.
Instantly he was up out of his chair and beating on my back while trying to lift my arm in the air like I was a toddler. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern etched in his features.
Waving him off, I attempted to regain my composure as I wiped away the tears from my eyes. “When? Why?” I had a few choice words I really wanted to say, but my poor father did not need to hear those words coming from his daughter’s mouth.
“Last night,” he finally said as he slowly moved back toward his own side of the table. “She wanted to know how you girls were, and me.” He paused, looking down toward his plate. “She said that she made a lot of mistakes, and she knew that it was too late.”
“A lot of mistakes.” I repeated his words, unsure if I’d heard him right. “Which ones is she referring to? The one where she decided that she wanted a whole new life, other than the one with her family? Or how about the fact that she just vanished before the ink was dry on her divorce papers?”
“Ever heard that saying, the grass isn’t always greener on the other side?”
“Don’t,” I said, shaking my head in an attempt to clear the irritation. “You can’t make excuses for her.
