He hugged Hunter tightly. “Thank you, son.”
When they parted, Hunter grinned. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
***
Three weeks after the Picketts’ party, Daniel was waxing their cars again. More than ever, he was grateful for their air-conditioned garage. The July heat was brutal, and today’s temp was supposed to reach ninety-five degrees. Even though he’d lived in Texas all his life, he never liked the summers.
He was almost done waxing the Jag when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, expecting it to be Arthur. Since he and Lila had reconciled with Hunter, the man had been in a nonstop good mood. Just last week Daniel had joined them for a round of golf at the country club. The lines between employer and friend were starting to blur, and Daniel was okay with that.
Still, he had to wonder if Arthur had noticed Hunter’s underlying melancholy. Daniel didn’t know him well, but maybe he was attuned to it because he and Hunter struggled with addiction, and he knew what it was like to lose someone you loved because of it. Then there was the awkwardness of Daniel being Brittany’s dad, although Hunter didn’t seem to hold it against him. None of that seemed to affect his game either—he’d easily blown out both his father and Daniel on the course.
But Arthur’s name wasn’t on his phone screen. Amy’s was.
Daniel frowned. Brittany must have given her his number, since he and Amy hadn’t talked since the night of the party. Before it went to voicemail, he quickly answered it.
“What took you so long?”
He sighed at her sharp tone. “Hello to you too, Amy.”
She paused. “Sorry. You don’t understand how difficult it is for me to call you.”
Oh, he had a good enough idea.
“Have you talked to Britt lately?” she asked, still sounding edgy.
“A few times. Just texts, though.” He set the waxing cloth on the cart.
“There’s something wrong with her, Daniel. She won’t talk to me. She spends all her time in her room or her studio and she’s barely eating. She hasn’t uploaded a video in weeks.”
Daniel had noticed that too, but he wasn’t completely familiar with his daughter’s posting schedule.
“I wouldn’t have called you, but it’s your boss’s son’s fault she’s like this.”
“Ba— Amy...” Wow, he’d almost called herbabe. When they were married, he’d used that endearment more often than he’d called her by name. “She’s nursing a broken heart. Give her some time and space.”
“You don’t know her like I do,” Amy snapped.
He prayed for patience, knowing that barking back at her would end the conversation. While he didn’t like that Brittany was suffering, at least Amy was speaking to him. “You’re right. I don’t.”
“We have to help her,” she continued. “I... can’t stand to see her like this.”
“Me either.” And he was concerned. “I’m new to this father thing, Amy. I’m not sure what to do.”
She didn’t answer, and Daniel thought she might have hung up on him. Then she said, “Meet me for supper tonight at Harvey’s. And no, they don’t have karaoke anymore.”
He frowned. “I haven’t sung karaoke since our divorce.” Too many embarrassing memories. And they were all on him.
“Maybe together we can come up with a solution. Six thirty sharp. Don’t be late.”
“Okay,” he said, and she ended the call. She didn’t exactly hang up on him, but she didn’t say goodbye either.
Daniel picked up the waxing cloth and returned to work on the Jaguar. He had approximately five hours before meeting Amy. Hopefully that would be enough time to come up with something to help his daughter.
Chapter 25
Hunter drove past K&Bs three times before finally deciding to park his bike in the lot. He was disappointed Britt’s car wasn’t there, but he was also a little relieved. He hadn’t gotten the first-shift job, so Monday was still his only day off. For the past three weeks he’d been living in a weird limbo of watching her videos, wanting to reach out to her, and changing his mind. He even tried being mad at her for cutting him off at the knees and shutting him out. But whatever anger he had didn’t last long. He’d made the mistake of not being forthright with her and he had to live with that.
But what he couldn’t live with was not knowing if she was okay. She hadn’t uploaded a new video or replied to comments on her most recent ones in almost a month. He’d given up texting her, figuring she’d probably blocked his number by now. He couldn’t go to her house and try to talk to her, even though he knew where she lived now. She—or more likely, her mother—might call the cops on him for trespassing, and he couldn’t afford to have that happen.
