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“Yes.”
“Well, smart of you to use those contacts.”
His eldest siblings—Sebastian, Logan, and Pippa—founded Bennett Enterprises when Daniel and Blake were kids. By the time they were in college, the tremendous success of the company made the family a tabloids target. Daniel and Blake relished the attention in the first few years after college.
It wasn’t uncommon for gossip sites to post pictures of them at high-profile parties, mingling with models and actors. I remember during my second year of the master’s program perusing one such website—accidentally, of course, because I was absolutely not stalking Daniel—and marveling at how different our lives were becoming. We seemed to be like two perpendicular lines: coming from different directions, going in different directions, crossing paths once and then never again.
When the waiter arrives with our enchiladas, we dig in right away. I am even hungrier than I thought. I only stop for a breather after I devoured half of the portion.
“Oh, this is divine,” I inform him.
“Glad you approve. I’ve thought about bringing you here since I came the first time.”
I lower my eyes to the plate, focusing on my food. Don’t read into this, Caroline. Don’t read into this.
Crap. I always read too much into everything when it comes to Daniel, which is ridiculous. We’ve been over for a long time, and we’ve both had relationships over the years. They didn’t amount to anything, which is why we’re both still single, but it’s not like we’ve been pining over each other.
Ah, who am I kidding? I warm up all over every time he touches or compliments me, and my first instinct when he seems out of his depths is to soothe him. Those are signs of pining. But I like to lie to myself from time to time, pretend I’m immune to him. Everyone does this, right? Every woman has that ex she never quite got over, right? Here’s to wishful thinking that I’m not a disgrace to the female population.
The most ridiculous of it all? I’m not actually hoping we’ll make up. I have one cardinal rule: once I get my heart broken, I don’t go back for more. Plus, I’ve gathered a lot of baggage over the years—the one weighing the most being my inability to have kids. But no point dwelling on that now, spoiling this beautiful evening.
“By the way, Dad said you’ve helped him with the business plan for the bookstore. Thank you.”
He waves his hand as if it’s nothing. “My pleasure. I’m glad he’s finally giving that place a makeover. And adding the coffee shop is a great idea. Any additional revenue stream helps. Helped him bring down the price they were asking him to pay for the furniture. Your dad is a great man, but....”
“Not a great businessman? Mom used to say the same thing. I miss her so much.”
“I bet.”
She never wanted me to become a teacher. She was hoping I’d follow in my brother’s footsteps, become a doctor. When she wasn’t trying to beat some sense into me, she’d give me a loving look while shaking her head in disapproval—yes, she could do both things at the same time—and say, “You’re just like your father.”
I knew exactly what she meant. Dad and I both like taking care of the people we love, making them happy. Unfortunately, those aren’t marketable skills. Mom ran the bookstore with an iron fist because Dad’s soft and trusting nature led to many mishaps with suppliers who overcharged him, and employees who stole from him.
“Thanks for helping him out, Daniel. I appreciate it.”
“I’ve always liked your parents. Even though something must be done about your dad’s cooking.”
I burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me he tried to poison you with his stew.”
“Oh, he did, and that wasn’t even the worst of it. One time he made roast beef. Thing was so hard, I thought I’d break a tooth chewing on it.”
“How often do you see my dad?”
“Now and again,” he says vaguely.
I waggle a finger at him. “Not an answer. I know at least a dozen ways to lure information out of you. Just being fair and giving you a heads-up.”
He leans over the table, a playful glint in his eyes. “I remember. Half of those ways involve no clothes. I much prefer those.”
I open my mouth, then close it again, heat rushing to my cheeks. Yep, I dug my own hole here. No one to blame but myself. Daniel watches me intently, and I squirm in my seat, suddenly feeling warm. Moving on.
“I’d really like to know,” I say eventually.
“After your mom passed away, I started stopping by a few times a month, whenever there was a soccer game on TV. He seemed lonely.”
“Oh.” His words reach someplace deep inside me. I shove the last bite of enchilada in my mouth, processing this. Dad is lonely, which is why I never miss our weekly dinner, and call him as often as I can. But he’s my dad. Daniel is not related to him, and yet he’s making more of an effort than my own brother. Visiting is hard, but Niall could c
all Dad more often.
