Fortuity: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (The Transcend Series Book 3) Page 4

He drops the box in the corner by the door to the balcony and the stairs Mr. Hans finished building. “Your room faces mine, but I don’t have stairs from my balcony.”

  Oh good. My room faces cliff-diving Jamie’s room. Just … perfect.

  “Dad, I’m taking Gabe to our house for lunch. He said he’s hungry and they don’t have food yet.” Morgan and Gabe lurk in the doorway, her with a grin on her face and him with his nose in his phone.

  “Gabe, we can go get lunch right now and then go to the store,” I interject before my overly generous neighbors do one more thing to make me feel completely incompetent today.

  “I’m hungry now.”

  “I said we can go now.”

  “Dude, it’s just a sandwich.” Morgan holds up both hands, eyes wide. Those wide eyes wander as she shuffles toward me. “What’s this?” Before I realize her intentions, she plucks the nightie from my pocket.

  “Oh! That’s—” I try to grab it, but she’s too fast, spinning toward her dad.

  “Look at this beautiful dress, Dad! It looks my size.” Morgan holds it up to her lithe body for two seconds before sliding it over her head. “Why do you have a girl’s dress?” She spins in a circle, then smooths her hand down the front of it.

  “It’s her pajamas. My mom used to have those in different colors,” Gabe mumbles, making a quick glance up at me. “Is that my mom’s?”

  “What?” My shock rushes out as a weak breath. “No. Of course not.” I would never wear a dead woman’s lingerie.

  “Wow! I want a nightshirt just like this one! Please, Daddy!”

  I cringe, forcing my gaze to Nathaniel’s as he lifts his chin and scratches his jaw.

  “When you’re older.”

  “Why when I’m older?”

  “Because they don’t make these for little girls.” I jump in and slide the nightie up her body and over her head. “Little girls your age should wear fun cotton jammies with Disney princesses on them.”

  She lifts her arms and relinquishes the nightie. “Dad says Disney is too commercialized.”

  I shove the nightie under my other clothes still in the suitcase and shoot Nathaniel a narrow-eyed look that says, Seriously? No electronics and no Disney?

  He shrugs. “It’s true.”

  “I went to Disney last year. I love it there.” Gabe’s glowing endorsement of Disney doesn’t help the situation. Of course, he loved it there. What kid doesn’t like Disney?

  “I wonder if I’d like it?” Morgan taps her finger on her chin while giving her dad a curious expression.

  “You would. It’s the ‘happiest place on Earth,’” Gabe reassures her.

  My gaze ping-pongs between Nathaniel and Morgan.

  “Wait? The happiest place on Earth? You said I wouldn’t like Disney, but it’s the happiest place on Earth? We have to go, Dad!”

  “We do. We have to go make Gabe a sandwich.” He rests his hands on her shoulders and steers her out of the room. “Coming, Gabe?”

  Without giving me a second glance, Gabe follows the lunch wagon.

  “Gracelyn, can I bring you something to eat?” Nathaniel asks just before descending the stairs after the kids.

  “No, thank you. I might take this opportunity to go get groceries. Or … wait …” I limp toward him. “That’s not right, is it?”

  His forehead wrinkles. “What?”

  “Leaving Gabe with strangers. I mean not total strangers, but we just met you a few days ago. I guess I’m not sure what the vetting process is for this situation. First-time mom … guardian or whatever.” I wrinkle my nose.

  “You can never be too protective,” he says.

  I’m not sure I’d go that far. I think not taking a ten-year-old girl to Disney, if you have the means to do it, is a little overprotective.

  “I can make him a sandwich to go, or you can vet me right now.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  I don’t know how to vet a babysitter.

  “What kind of professor are you?”

  “Anatomy.”

  “Have you ever been arrested?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  He hesitates. Holy shit he hesitates for a split second before shaking his head.

  “Maybe we get the sandwich to go.” My lips curl into a tight smile.

  I bet an anatomy professor would know all the ways to kill someone. And what better front for a serial killer than the widower with a young daughter. I watched a documentary on serial killers. They’re alarmingly charming and charismatic.

  “I didn’t pass the vetting process?” He chuckles.

  “No. Yes. I’m not sure. I mean … would you leave Morgan with me?”

  He eyes me for a few seconds before a slight smirk quirks his full lips. “Of course not.”

  I hobble down the stairs after him. “Seriously?”

  Mr. Hans gives us a slight nod as he waters the ferns by the window. I chase—chase might be an exaggeration—I limp behind Nathaniel to the other house.

  “You have to elaborate.”

  He glances over his shoulder when he reaches the top step to his deck, opening his mailbox to find it empty. “Elaborate on what?” He pivots to face me.

  “Why you wouldn’t leave Morgan with me.”

  “I don’t know enough about you. It’s that simple.”

  My head jerks backward as I stand idle at the bottom of the stairs while Mr. Abhors Electronics looks down on me—literally and figuratively as I imagine Morgan might say. “I’m just a woman with my life tipped upside down because my brother and his wife died and left me with their son. I don’t have children of my own. I have no clue how to be a good parent. I’m just trying to keep my head above water and not screw anything up beyond repair.”

  Nathaniel doesn’t react with more than perfectly timed blinks.

  When the words I just spewed at his feet catch up to the five-second delay in my head, I close my eyes. “Okay. I just gave you all the reasons why you should feel uncomfortable leaving your daughter with me.” Peeking open one eye, I squint up at him. “I might suck at this … but I’ll get better.”

  After a few seconds he turns, takes two steps toward the door, and stops with his back to me. “After my wife died, I had no clue what to do with this newborn baby. I didn’t know how to hold her properly, change her diapers, or feed her. I was a mess. A guy with a PhD but completely clueless how to take care of a baby. You’ll figure it out.” He opens the screen door and disappears.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nathaniel

  “Uh … Dad?” Morgan calls from my bedroom window while I finger through my wet hair.

  We spent the first half of the day biking and building sandcastles on the beach. She wanted to get showered and changed into nice clothes before Gabe arrived home.

  It’s been two weeks of spying on Gabe. Obsessing over why he’s not home “on time.” Wondering what he’s doing. Begging me for an iPad so they can play some game together. He tells her over and over that he goes to a friend’s house while Gracelyn is at work. That does little to tame her anxiousness.

  “What’s up?” I shut off the light in the bathroom and meet her at the window that faces Gracelyn’s room. “Oh. Whoa!” I cover Morgan’s eyes.

  “Dad …” She shoves my hand away. “I’m a girl.”

  There’s no sign of Gabe, but Gracelyn’s under her bedroom balcony, partially hidden behind ornamental grass, stripping out of her clothes—right down to her bra and panties. She shoves them into a plastic bag, pokes her head out of the grass to sweep her gaze left and right, emerges from the grass cover, and dashes up to her balcony—clearly moving better on her ankle. After she closes the French door, she yanks the shades shut behind her.

  “Huh …” That’s it. That’s my best reaction.

  “Why did she take off her clothes outside?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, when they got home, she pointed for Gabe to go in through the deck door
. So I’m going to go see him. If I see Gracelyn, I’ll ask her why she stripped.” She skips toward the stairs.

  “Morgan!” I chase after her. “Don’t ask her about it. If she knows we saw her, it might be really embarrassing. We don’t want to embarrass her. Okay?”

  “Fine. Whatevs. I won’t say anything.”

  I haven’t had any in-depth conversations with Gracelyn since they moved in two weeks ago. We sit on the deck stairs to her place or mine and watch the kids play on the beach, usually talking about them. I don’t know what she does, but I can’t lie … the stripping thing a few seconds ago piqued my curiosity.

  Twenty minutes later, two kids streak past the front window toward the beach. They plant one of the umbrellas in the sand, drop into the beach chairs, and cover themselves with beach towels. This is new.

  Gracelyn appears a few seconds later, taking a seat on the bottom step to my deck with her phone in her hand. I watch the situation for a few minutes before opening the door.

  She glances back at me. “Hey. I can keep an eye on them if you have things to do.”

  “What exactly are they doing?” I take a seat next to her, reminding myself to keep my gaze from lingering on her hair. It’s hard. I do it a lot, and I can tell that she notices it because she smooths her hands over her hair when I let my gaze linger too long.

  Gracelyn’s face contorts, little wrinkles forming by her eyes. “You don’t want to know what they’re doing.”

  That’s code for I need to know.

  When I stand to check out what I apparently don’t want to know, she grabs my wrist. “They’re playing a game on Gabe’s tablet.”

  I start to pull out of her hold, and she tightens her grip. We have a silent stare off until she releases me along with a deep sigh.

  “She’s going to be around kids who have cellphones, computers, and tablets. According to Gabe, most schools give kids computers or tablets that they get to bring home. If you’re planning on sending her to public school, you’d better be prepared for her to have a lot of exposure to it.”

  I squint against the sun to see them huddled under the towels before easing back onto the step next to Gracelyn. “I hate it.”

  She chuckles. “I can see that.”

  We wordlessly stare at the water for several minutes before I turn toward her. “How’s your new job going?”

  She stiffens, keeping her gaze on the water. “Fine. Thanks.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Uh …” She bites the inside of her cheek for several seconds. “I work at a cli—well, a salon.”

  “You do hair?”

  More cheek-biting before a slow nod. “Yeah.”

  “Is that what you did in Idaho?”

  “No.” She laughs a little. “I worked in sales. Radio advertising.”

  “Now you’re doing what you were trained to do. That has to feel rewarding.”

  Another pause and slow nod. “Yes. I was trained to do this job. How about you?” She shifts her body to face me. “Will you go back to being a professor this fall?”

  “Probably not this fall. I’ve been working on a book, and I might see about getting it published.”

  “Wow! What’s your book about? Anatomy?”

  “No.” I laugh. “It’s about my life. I spent a lot of time journaling when we traveled, so I wrote about my experiences. The first half of the book covers things that happened before Morgan was born, and the second half is all about our adventures.”

  “A single dad story?”

  “Of sorts. It’s quite ironic. I’ve never been much of a reader … for pleasure. More out of necessity. However, when I decided I wanted Morgan to experience life and learning away from the internet, I had to set a good example. So I started reading for enjoyment.”

  “But you have a cellphone?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you only use it to make calls? No email? No social media? Games? Photos?”

  “I use it to take videos and photos.”

  “You’re not on any social media?”

  I shake my head.

  “I’m …” Gracelyn tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “I think I’m envious. And you’re staring at my hair again.”

  “Jeez …” I close my eyes, wrinkling my nose. “I’m sorry.”

  “Would it help if I wore a hat?”

  “No.” I grin, resting my forearms on my knees while diverting my gaze to the ground. “My wife …”

  “Your wife?”

  “Yes. When I met my wife, she had your hair. The length, the color, the highlights—or streaks as I called them.”

  “I can change it. I’ve been thinking of making a change.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  Shifting my gaze to the kids, I wait for her to respond, working hard to contain my grin. Through the corner of my eye, I see her hanging jaw and unblinking eyes.

  “Is…” she clears her throat “…there anything else I can do to make your time here less stressful, Professor Hunt? Different clothes? A different shade of lip gloss?”

  Fisting my hand at my mouth, I snort a laugh. “I’m kidding.”

  “Jerk.” She shoves my arm, and I sway to the side a bit.

  “Well, you offered.”

  “I was being nice.”

  “By offering something you weren’t really going to do?”

  Gracelyn rubs the smile from her face. “I was being…” she drums the pads of her fingers on her lips “…agreeable. Likable.”

  “A liar.” I nudge her leg with mine.

  “I didn’t expect you to call my bluff. Has anyone ever called you rude?”

  “Never.” I grin.

  “Dad!” Morgan throws the towel from her head and runs toward us. “Can Gabe stay for dinner?”

  “Why?” I brush sand from her cheek.

  “I can’t tell you. Just say yes.”

  “Why?” I grab her and hug her back to my chest, nuzzling my scruffy face in her neck.

  She tries to wriggle out of my hold. “Daddy!” She giggles. “Stop! I just want Gabe to stay for dinner.”

  Gabe trudges through the sand, carrying the towels and the umbrella. “She wants me to make her an avatar on this game.”

  “Gabriel Guacamole! I told you to not say anything or my dad would say no.”

  “Guacamole?” Gracelyn and I ask at the same time.

  “Jinx!” Morgan yells. “You both said guacamole at the same time.”

  Gabe rolls his eyes. “She thinks my last name sounds like guac.”

  “Not nice, Morgan.” I narrow my eyes at her.

  “It’s just for fun. He called Mr. Hans Huge Hands. And Mr. Hans calls Gracelyn Elvis. Sometimes you call me Squirt, which is gross because I heard Rocco saying he got the squirts from bad sushi. Basically, you’re calling me the S-word that ends in H-I-T when you call me Squirt. So Gabriel Guacamole can’t be bad, Dad. We love guac. Right?”

  I’ve created a monster. A ten-year-old, too-smart-for-her-own-good monster. Gracelyn covers her mouth to hide her grin, but I don’t miss her shoulders bouncing in silent laughter.

  Gabe shrugs. “I like guacamole. It’s fine. But watch out … I’ll think of a name for you.” He shoots Morgan an evil glare that makes the smile on her face swell by a hundred percent.

  “Now, we just need to find a special nickname for your dad.” Gracelyn twists her lips, squinting at me. “Hmm …”

  “Nate. That’s his nickname. It’s no fun, but he only lets certain people call him Nate. Can they call you Nate?” Morgan gets in my face, sucking up the oxygen and staring me down with googly eyes. “Huh? Huh? Can they?”

  “Nah. Nathaniel is best.”

  “Well …” Gracelyn slaps her hands onto her legs just before standing. “Nate it is.” She winks at me. “Until I can find something even better.”

  Great. How did two grown-ass adults get tangled in childish name calling? And why does it give me pleasure to know she’ll be giving me and my
nickname so much thought? Maybe because she reminds me of my wife. And I miss my wife. That void feels as empty today as it felt a decade ago. I don’t want to spend my life in mourning, but I also don’t want to replace her space in my heart. I gave it to her. It will always be hers.

  “So, yes or no to Gabe staying for dinner?”

  My daughter likes to put me on the spot. We need to discuss her poor social etiquette. I’m sure it will earn me a few hard eye rolls and maybe even a “whatevs” or two.

  “Fine. Gabe can stay for dinner, but I don’t want this to turn into hours staring at a screen. We have games you guys can play that don’t involve staring at a screen.”

  “Boring …” Morgan frowns at Gabe, but he just nods his head slowly. “I like games. We used to play games on New Year’s Eve.”

  “You only say that because you always get to be on your phone. Some of us don’t have phones,” she mumbles.

  Again, Gracelyn snickers, masking it as a cough.

  “I’ll send him home by eight,” I say.

  Gracelyn nods. “Eight is good.”

  “Nine, Dad! It’s summer vacation.”

  “Your whole life has been a summer vacation, Squirt.” I quirk an eyebrow at her.

  “So not fair. Come on, Guac, we can play the game on your tablet until Dad’s done making dinner.” She stomps up the stairs, and he follows her like a meek animal. The boy has time to grow a pair, but he’d better get started if he has a prayer of standing up to all the strong-willed Morgans in the world.

  “Any allergies I need to know about?” I ask after the kids escape into the house.

  Gracelyn’s eyes widen. “Um …”

  “You’re Gabe’s guardian now and you don’t know if he has any allergies?”

  “Well, he’s still alive, and we’ve had many different kinds of food: wheat, dairy, nuts, shellfish. I think he’s good. Feel free to ask him. Let me know if he discloses any allergies to you. I’ll make a note of it for future reference.”

  “You…” I shake my head but can’t hide my grin “…are crazy.”

  “Crazy good, right?” She turns on her heel and saunters home.

  “Is crazy ever good?” I call after her.

  “It’s the only kind of good. Night, Nate.”