The Last Strike by A.R. Henry
Chapter 12
Dinner in the Lonsdale household is not a formal event by any means. We typically eat around a four-person table my parents have had in their kitchen since they bought their house in the nineties.
They have a formal dining room, but the only time I’ve actually seen them use that table was the one year they were forced by my aunts and uncles to host Thanksgiving. Even if I had friends over, we brought in extra chairs and squeezed around the table in the kitchen.
But tonight, when I walk into my parents’ house with Weston by my side I see the dining room table completely decked out to the nines. My mom even lit candles. She hates candles. Either the president is coming to dinner, or my parents assumed when I called to tell them I was bringing someone to dinner, that I was bringing a date. I mean, I am bringing a man to meet them, but not like that.
I call out, “Mom! Dad! We’re here!” as I walk through the living room towards the kitchen and run into a brick wall.
“Hale!” I shriek and jump on my brother, holding onto him like a monkey. I squeeze him so tight that he’s probably starting to turn a little purple, but I don’t care, I missed my big brother. “What are you doing here?”
Leaning back, smiling at my brother, I see a matching grin on his face.
“I came to see my annoying little sister. I missed you Tater Tot.”
I flick him on the nose for the “annoying” comment. “Aww, you didn’t have to come all the way here to see me. You know how FaceTime works right? I can teach you later. I taught Grammy last week. If she can figure it out, I’m sure you can too, dummy.”
Before he has a chance to respond I hear a throat clear behind me reminding me that I’ve brought a guest to dinner, and I'm currently being really rude and ignoring him.
Hale slowly lowers me to the ground, and I put my arm around his back before turning, “Weston, this is my big, idiot brother Hale. Hale, this is my—,” shoot, we haven’t exactly defined terms here, and if I say he’s just a parent Hale is going to be all over that. So, I sort of cough out, “Friend?” Yeah, that didn’t sound suspicious. “Weston. Be nice to him, Hale. I’m pretty sure he only came to dinner because he feels sorry for me.”
My joke is lame and from the look on Weston’s face, it definitely fell flat. I laugh awkwardly, but before I can say anything worse Weston holds out his hand to Hale and says, “Weston Bell, nice to meet you. I don’t feel sorry for her. I was honored to be invited.”
Hearing Weston say he was honored to be invited has me feeling like I’m floating three feet off the floor. Hale shakes his outstretched hand, and my face heats when he turns a very curious look my way. We are going to have a lengthy talk about this later. Probably mostly related to the question he asks next. “Weston Bell? Like head UTK coach, Weston Bell?” His eyes flick back and forth between the two of us before settling back on me. “What the hell are you doing hanging out with my nerdy little sister?”
At that I draw in a sharp breath. Luckily, my mom must have overheard, and she came to my rescue, yelling from the kitchen, “Hale! That is no way to talk to a guest in my house! Don’t make me whoop your butt!”
We all watch as she walks into the living room. Lydia Lonsdale is the epitome of a southern woman. She’s dressed in a pale pink shift dress and has her short, cropped hair perfectly curled. Her makeup is done to perfection. She immediately swats me and Hale out of her way, so she can wrap Weston up in a hug.
I fight another gasp when Weston immediately wraps his arms around her, returning the hug. When they separate Weston tells her, “Thank you for having me, ma’am.” Watching him with my mom, it suddenly hits me. I realize what Ash was fussing about that first night at the bar. No woman, I mean absolutely no woman is immune to this man's charms. I know because my mother has turned a shade of red I have never seen just from six words uttered by a baseball star.
She fidgets with her hair, and tells him, “Oh my, well you are welcome in our home anytime Mr. Bell. John and I can’t thank you enough for taking care of our little girl the other night.”
What? This is news to me. How does she know what happened? I only decided this morning that I would tell them over dinner tonight about the attempted break-in. Mostly so they could see in-person that I was fine. Did that mean that Weston told them, or had the cops somehow called them?
Seeing the confusion on my face Weston answered the questions circling my mind. “I called them from your phone the other night while you were walking through with the police. I have a daughter, and I would have wanted someone to tell me if she were in your place, Court. You can’t fault me for that.” I open my mouth ready to argue, but my mother speaks before I can.
“You were right to call us, Weston,” she says nodding in agreement. “We were glad you could be there to take care of our baby. Now come on, I’ve got dinner ready. We can’t let it get cold and go to waste.” She doesn’t give us a chance to argue before moving back towards the kitchen. Weston offers to help her bring the food into the dining room, but I shoot him a look that suggests he stay put, and he does.
I help mom bring the plates in, and we all take our seats at the table. With mom at one end, Weston sits next to me—after helping me into my chair—and Hale sits across from me. Once we’re settled Dad comes into the room and takes a seat at the end opposite my mom. “Sorry I’m late honey.” Noticing there’s an extra person sitting next to me, he stands back up, and stretches his arm out across to Weston. “John Lonsdale, nice to meet you.”
Weston gives his hand a quick shake and returns the greeting with an added, “Thank you for having me, sir.”
So polite, this one.
I can’t lie to myself and say seeing his manners doesn’t do anything for me because it totally does.
Who could blame me? I was raised in the South, manners are hot.
I realize as they both take their seats again that I probably should have warned Weston about a few things before we came tonight. Mainly that my dad has absolutely zero chill. The man has no filter, and much to my misery, over the course of the next few minutes he decided this was time for twenty questions or some shit like it.
Out of nowhere he asks him why he was at my house the night of the break-in causing me to choke. “Dad!” I yell at the same time Weston quickly says, “My grandmother lives next door to Courtney.”
Across the table from us Hale is snickering in delight, and I’m so close to throwing my glass of water on him. If he ever brings a girl home, I’m giving him so much hell.
My dad makes a contented sound, like Weston’s answer was acceptable, and goes back to eating his dinner. When I think he’s not going to say anything else I breathe out a sigh of relief, but it was a moment too soon because he suddenly blurts, “Weren’t you married?”
“Jesus Christ, Dad!” I shriek. “He came for dinner not to stand trial!” I’m flushed in embarrassment all the way down my chest. Luckily, my man JC seems to be sending some blessings my way tonight because Weston places his hand on my knee and whispers to me, “It’s alright. I don’t mind talking about my life with you parents.”
I look him in the eye to see if I can read him. I need to know if he’s being sincere or not, but he has his usual mask of steel in place. I can’t decide if he’s being serious or just trying to please my parents so I tell him, “You shouldn’t have to talk about your private life though.”
Frustrated, I turn back to the Spanish Inquisition. “Leave him alone Dad. Why don’t you ask Hale something about his life, huh? Like how many girlfriends does he have back in New York?”
Blessedly Hale takes my bait and distracts my dad by talking about a Knicks game that was on recently. I distinctly remember Hale telling me he didn’t care for professional basketball, so I know he’s just trying to distract my dad from the girlfriend question. Normally, I would try and needle him a little more about who he’s seeing, but since he got dad off of Weston’s back, I’ll let it go—for now.
While they argue about some player that got traded Weston leans over to whisper in my ear. I squirm in my seat. My body heats, reacting to how close he is. “Thank you for that,” I hear, and I swear his lips are touching the shell of my ear. I take a shaky breath and exhale a very breathy, “You’re Welcome,” and go back to eating my dinner.
I can still feel Weston’s gaze on my face though, which makes it hard to concentrate on eating because I can’t sit still. We all eat in relative peace for a little while before my dad’s and Hale’s conversation turns to the Yankees. Since we have a literal baseball expert in the house he joins the conversation, and the three of them talk about the sport well through dessert.
After I finish my peach cobbler I lean back in my chair with a smile on my face, taking in the scene around me. Weston really gets along well with my family, and I love how it makes me feel to see him here with them. I’m mentally wishing that I could bring him with me next week to family dinner, and the week after that.
Who am I kidding? I want to bring him to family dinner for the foreseeable future. Maybe I could convince him in a friendly way to come. Since that’s all we are. Friends. I know my parents wouldn’t mind, but would he?
As we head out the door, my parents tell him to come to family dinner again sometime, and he—like any good southern gentleman—tells my mother that her cooking would bring him back anytime he was welcome. Be still my heart. He also shakes my dad’s hand again and tells him to pick any UTK baseball game he wants tickets to, and he’ll get them. Normally I find name-dropping to be pretentious, but when Weston does it, I’m turned on by him just casually dropping his position and offering my dad tickets. If we were dating, I probably would have dropped to my knees and offered to blow him right there in my parent’s driveway.
Weston helps me climb up into his truck, and once we’re on the road back to my house I say, “That was really nice, offering my dad tickets. Thank you for that. I know he’ll be bragging to all his buddies tomorrow about you coming to dinner.”
He whips his head to me, “Are you serious?” I look at him in confusion, so he clarifies, “He acted like he didn’t like me the whole time we were there! I honestly thought he didn’t even know who I was. When I mentioned that the team was going to do well this year he looked at me like I had three heads! I was actually insulted! I never get pissed when people make comments on my coaching.”
I have to laugh at his grumpiness, which only ruffles his feathers further. “Oh no. Both my parents follow the major sports at the college religiously. We’ve all been to games. I may have not known who you were when we met, but when I told my dad that Weston Bell spilled a beer on me, he actually asked if I thanked you afterwards.”
He looks back and forth between me and the road with his mouth open in disbelief. Just when I think I’m going to have to snap my fingers in front of him to keep his face from looking that way permanently he grumbles, “Wow. Remind me to never gamble with your dad, his poker face is unreal.”
I was wondering when this conversation would happen. I’m not surprised though because I knew it was coming. “Yeah, he served two tours in Iraq and was in the military for twenty years. I think that’s where his interrogation skills come from. Sorry about that by the way. I should have warned you that he can be intense like that sometimes. It’s been a while since I’ve brought anyone to family dinner.”
And here it comes…
“How long is a while?”
Le sigh.
“The last guy I brought home would have been my ex, Josh. We broke up right before I moved here at the beginning of the school year. I honestly thought we would get married, have the white picket fence and kids, but those dreams were shattered when I found out he was sleeping with one of his students. He was a professor at Marshall.”
I’m studying him pretty closely as he drives, so I don’t miss when he tenses. He doesn’t give me a chance to ask why before he says, “Well, he must have been a dumbass.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because only a dumbass would cheat on you. It would take a hard working, dedicated man to love you because you don’t deserve any less than that. It’s obvious that he wasn’t either of those things and therefore he’s a dumbass. We haven’t known each other very long, but Cami loves you, and my daughter is the smartest person I know so if she loves you then everyone should. And from the little time I have known you, I know that you are the real thing, Courtney. You are the kind of woman that a man dreams about, and he obviously wasn’t worthy of a second of your time. He should be grateful you even looked in his direction.”
Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting.
I can’t stop it when I sniff. And sniff again.
“Are you crying, Cherry?”
Not even caring how disgusting I must look to him, I swipe my arm across my runny nose. I try to say, “No,” but it comes out all whiny, so he totally knows I’m lying.
“Shit. Stop it. I’m serious, Courtney. I can’t take it.” I’m sure he doesn’t mean to, but he sounds so mean and bossy that it only makes me want to cry more. He probably hates that he’s wasting all his time with me, and here I am crying in his truck.
“I’m not,” I whine trying to reassure him, “No one has ever said something so nice to me. I also might be PMS-ing, or it could be all the stress from the past few days. Thank you, though. For saying that. You’re too nice to me. I’m sorry, you probably think I’m insane right now, and regret even going with me to dinner.”
As I swipe the few tears from my cheeks he shakes his head, “Nope, see that right there is where he must have fucked up because telling you something that I mean, and is one hundred percent true, is not me being too nice to you sweetheart. I meant what I said. You don’t deserve anything less than for a man to treat you like the queen you are, so don’t let them. And when they do? Don’t tell them they’re being too nice because that lowers the bar that you want to be kept high. If they don’t go over the bar, Cherry, kick their ass to the curb because they ain’t it.”
I watch in stunned silence as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. He looks so mad that I have to ask, “Are you mad at me?” It sounds so quiet and pathetic that I immediately hate myself for asking.
His jaw tightens before he says, “Not pissed off at you sweetheart. I’m pissed off that you even had to ask that. I fucking loved that you asked me to dinner, and it pisses me off that your ex cheated on you and made you feel like you need to apologize to me for crying. It makes me want to...fuck. Just...stop. I had a great time tonight, Court. Let’s leave it at that.”
We ride in silence the rest of the way to my house, and I had spent the entire time thinking about what he had told me. That I should only want to be with someone who puts me first, and never settle for anything less. So, when he turns on my street, I decide to break the silence.
“Can I ask you something?”
He looks at me cautiously, like he’s not sure what’s going to come out of my mouth. Finally, he says, “Sure. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer, though.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but what you told me earlier, is that something you tell yourself? Like, if you were to start seeing someone that’s what you decided you would look for in a person after what you went through with Amber?”
He lets out a deep sigh, and stares straight ahead. A few seconds tick by, and the longer he makes me wait the longer I realize I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. So, I do the only thing I know to do...I bail.
I’m already halfway out of the cab when I freeze, hearing his voice, “Yeah. Amber and I knew each other a long time before we got married. I thought what she and I had was the real deal. I always wanted kids, and I thought she did too. I thought what I wanted out of life was what she wanted too, but I realized after we split that she was just placating me. Telling me what she thought I wanted to hear and doing things she thought I wanted her to do. It wasn’t right. It made me feel wrong, like I forced her into loving me. So, I decided after that I wouldn’t settle for anything less than someone who loves me for me and shows me that in their own way. I don’t want someone to love me because they think that’s what I want. I want someone who loves me because they physically can't hold themselves back. I want someone to love me with their whole soul.”
Well...what do you say to that?
“I’m really sorry that you both went through that. I can’t imagine how it must have felt to realize that she didn’t love you anymore after all that time. It’s almost worse than cheating in my opinion. Sorry if that’s overstepping.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You’re right. It felt like she ripped me apart at that moment. It broke my trust in a lot of things because it was just like she was acting or something. I know deep down she loved me, but she was never really in love with me. It felt like my life with her was just pretending for her and that hurt.” He breathes deep again and slowly lets it out. “So, yeah. If I do meet someone else, I’m going to do it right. Treat her right and make damn sure that she loves me because I won’t settle for anything less than my soulmate. Not again.”
When he meets her.
Why does it feel like I’m having a heart attack?
Maybe it’s because he said “when he meets her” as in the future, and it can’t possibly be me because we’ve already met. My chest starts to ache really bad suddenly, and I can feel my eyes prick with tears.
Damnit, I cannot cry in front of him again tonight. Taking a few quick breaths, willing myself to act normal, I croak, “Okay, thank you for telling me. Thank you again for today, and for bringing me home. Goodnight.”
I quickly jump the rest of the way out of the truck and slam the door. I don’t stop until I’m inside and quickly slam my door shut, leaning back against it. Feeling empty and deflated I slide down the door until I hit the ground with hot tears rolling down my face.
I really thought that after dinner tonight we might actually go somewhere, and that one comment from him just sent all my daydreams up in flames.
There’s really only one thing for me to do now, and that’s move on. He’s made it clear that he’s not interested in dating anyone, and it’s really only my fault for having these feelings. Tonight, I’ll have a pity party with ice cream, and tomorrow I’ll call Ash and see if she can set me up with someone. I’ve made up my mind.
I am getting far far away from Weston Bell.