I walked out the door and climbed into my truck. The coffee shop was only a few miles back toward the job site. More than once after I’d talked to Kensington, I’d tried to figure out just what I would say to her, but I decided it would all sound too rehearsed. Nix had advised me to tell her how I felt, and that’s what I was planning to do, lay bare my soul and let her know that I’d been thinking about her every minute of every day. And none of it had to do with a bet. Then, just like Nix had said, it was up to her. If she wasn’t interested, then I would just have to leave it alone. Kensington was a woman who knew her own mind, and if she’d already talked herself out of this, then there wasn’t much I could do.

I pulled into the coffee shop. Four o’clock wasn’t prime time for a coffee. I was glad to see only a few cars in the lot. Kensington’s car wasn’t there yet. I walked in and bought a water bottle. After the hot, dry day on the job site, water was the only thing that sounded good. I headed to a table in the back corner that had a view of the parking lot. I wasn’t completely sure why I’d picked a coffee shop except I didn’t want to meet her at my house with the guys lurking around. Sitting in a hot car trying to apologize for being an asshole didn’t seem like the best plan of action either. The more I thought about it, the more I thought making a bet about a girl was a completely jerk move. Sometimes Rodeo and I seemed to be in a contest to see which one of us could be a bigger asshole, but accepting the bet without even thinking about the woman on the other end of it had put me right at the top of the douchebag heap. I’d had Finley lecture me more than once that I needed to think more about the feelings of the women I dated. I knew she was right, but it had been more fun to ignore her words and push empathy out of my head. In short, I’d been acting like the son of a rock star. I’d inherited plenty of my old man’s good genes along with some of the bad ones.

Kensington had been different than all the other women. It had been the slap upside my head that I needed. I had no idea if our little meeting in the coffee shop would restore things to the way they were, but I had to give it a go. She was too incredible to let just slip out of my life without so much as a good-bye.

A car pulled into the lot, dragging my attention to the front window. It wasn’t her. I sank back against the seat and drank down the water. Just as I glanced at my phone to check the time, a call came through.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Cole, what are you up to?” His words were stretched, which meant he’d either had too much to drink or way too little sleep. From the clamor of voices and music in the background, it was probably both. “Fin said you got hurt on the bike.”

“Nah. Fin’s a worry wart. What time is it there?”

“Don’t know. After midnight. But I’ve about had it here. I’m flying home Wednesday to rest. I’m thinking we need to have a barbecue while the weather is still summer-like. Rett could invite his friends.”

“That doesn’t sound like rest. That sounds like a continuation of partying like the one that’s practically drowning you out.”

“A few dozen people showed up to the hotel suite. Management will be fucking happy to see my bum walking out of here this week.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Coley? Everything all right? You don’t sound yourself.”

“Yep. It’s all good. I’m just tired. We’ve got the first foundation form up, and we’re pouring cement tomorrow.”

“That’s great. You know, I don’t tell you this enough, but I’m proud of you. You’re doing a great job with Kingston Construction.”

My dad was getting fatherly and sentimental, which meant he was homesick. “Thanks, Dad. Looking forward to seeing you when you get back.”

Out of the side of my eye, I saw two more cars pull into the parking lot. Neither of them was Kensington.

“I’ll let you go, Cole. I’ll ring you when I get back.”

“Have a safe flight back, Dad.”

“Love ya, Coley. Bye.”

Nicky King, legendary rock star, a man who the tabloids had dragged through the mud at least twenty times, a man who everyone had pegged as a notorious drug addict, a playboy, a dissolute musician with more money than he knew what to do with, always said love ya at the end of his call. None of the public’s perception of my dad mattered. Finley, Jude and I knew the real guy, and to us, he was just Dad. And a fucking awesome one at that.

I glanced at my phone again. It was twenty past four. There were no texts or messages from Kensington. Nix’s words kept bouncing through my head. Tell her how you feel, and if that doesn’t work, then it’s time to move on. On the way there, I’d gone through a few different scenarios as to how this coffee date would end. But there was one shitty scenario that hadn’t passed through my thick skull—the one where she didn’t even show.

Chapter 30

Kensington

It was one of those times in your life when everything became a blur and yet you knew you’d remember everything about the day—the weird sour smell of the emergency waiting room, the serious look on the triage nurse’s face as she watched the blood pressure gauge, the funny little man who kept stepping into the elevator and hopping back out.

Mom was busy shredding another tissue in her fingers, while I obsessed about all the warning signs my dad had exhibited, warning signs that we’d fluffed off as heartburn. Things like heart attacks or strokes or cancer were too scary to consider. It was always easier to find less vile reasons for not feeling well.

“It’s my fault,” my mom said in her usual attempt to place herself at the center of attention. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to eat all those steaks.” She sobbed into her tattered tissue, and I patted her shoulder.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, Mom. Besides, triple bypass surgery is as common as an appendectomy these days. You heard the doctor, Dad’s in good shape otherwise. He’ll come out of this better than ever.” She was the parent, but I was the one comforting her.

Of course, deep down, I was terrified at the thought of my dad being splayed open on an operating table. He’d only ever been in the hospital once before. It hadn’t been anything serious, just some tests for dizziness he’d been experiencing, but I had only been ten, and it had shaken me to my core. I could still remember sitting in my fifth grade classroom the day they were doing the tests. It had been like today, a blur, but with small details remaining crystal clear in the midst of it all. My teacher had been talking about the presidential election, and it had caused a heated debate in class. I was glad for the diversion. I’d lowered my head to my desk so no one could see my tears. Then Mike Little yelled out, ‘Hey Kensington is bawling’. I went home early that day, and Mom and I went to the hospital to wait with Dad for the results. He let me sit on his hospital bed, and we shared the milkshake we’d snuck in for him.

A nurse stepped into the waiting room. “Mrs. Modante?”

My mom nearly fell out of the chair. “Yes, what is it?” She was nearly shrieking, and I placed my hand on her arm to calm her.

“We’re wheeling Mr. Modante into surgery, and I thought you’d both like to see him first.”

Mom wasn’t one to move fast with anything. She considered abrupt movements unladylike and crass, but she shot out of her chair as if someone had lit a firecracker beneath her. That’s when it occurred to me—she was completely nuts about my dad. There were times when she’d roll her eyes at things he said, or she’d complain that he spent too much time at work or at golf or anything else she might see as an opportunity to nitpick. But, underneath it all, she still had a huge crush on the man. That’s what I wanted. I wanted a man who I could have a crush on even when he was being annoying or grumpy or turning gray and wrinkled.