Something Unexpected by Vi Keeland
CHAPTER 11
Nora
I WAS A nervous wreck when we arrived on Exuma the next day. I’d booked a different hotel than the one my father owned, not wanting to be stuck there if things didn’t go well. I still didn’t have a plan for what the heck I was going to say when I saw him—assuming he was even at the hotel today. But it seemed like one of those things in life you couldn’t plan. Whatever was going to happen would happen.
Louise had offered to come with me, but I needed to do this alone. So after we checked into our hotel, she went to relax at the pool. Beck wasn’t able to get a flight home until tomorrow, so he’d decided to join us on our boat trip to Exuma. He was in his room doing some work, and I was supposed to be heading four miles down the road to the Sunset Hotel. But I’d made a pit stop at our hotel bar about an hour and a half ago, and I hadn’t worked up the courage to go any farther just yet.
I was on my second glass of wine when a deep voice startled me.
“Back so soon?”
Beck.
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “I haven’t left yet.”
“You need a ride?”
I shook my head. “No. There’re cabs sitting around out front waiting for people who need rides. And the concierge said if for some reason there aren’t any, he can call and have one here in five minutes or less.”
Beck eyed my almost-drained wine glass. “Working on liquid courage?”
“Are you going to make fun of me if I say yes?”
“Nah. I had two fingers of scotch in my room before I got the balls to come back down to the bar after my Zoom call the night we met. You can be a little intimidating.”
My eyebrows climbed toward my hairline. “You were intimidated by me? You’re lying.”
He motioned to the open seat next to me. “You want some company?”
“Sure.”
Beck sat down. The bartender walked over. “What can I get you?”
“Can I have a sparkling water, please?”
“Coming right up.”
The bartender pointed to me. “You want a refill?”
“What the hell. Why not?”
When he walked away, Beck looked me over. “You’re wearing your favorite color today instead of mine.”
I glanced down. I’d completely forgotten what I had on—a pale pink sundress. “I’m actually more of a hot pink fan than light pink. But that doesn’t wear so well. You have a good memory though.”
Beck tapped his pointer to his temple. “Hard to forget. I won’t be getting the image of you in that blue dress out of my head anytime soon.”
I hid my blush by finishing off the last drops in my glass before the bartender brought my refill. “You finished your work already?”
“Not yet. I was heading to the business center to pick up some documents my assistant emailed over for me to sign. The bar is on the way.”
“Oh. Well, don’t let me keep you. I’ll be fine.”
“You want to role play?”
“Pardon?”
He gave me a slow, sexy smile. “Believe it or not, that wasn’t meant to be dirty. You’re nervous. So pretend I’m your father and say whatever you’re planning on saying to him. We’ll do a little dry run.”
I bit my lip. “That’s the problem. I don’t have anything planned.”
Beck shrugged. “We’ll freestyle then. Improvise.” He lifted his chin. “Close your eyes for a minute. Take a few deep breaths, maybe shake out your arms and roll your shoulders, and then just shoot from the hip.”
I nodded. Why not? So I did as Beck suggested and let myself relax as much as possible. Then I turned to face him head on.
“Hi.” I smiled. “Are you Alex Stewart?”
Beck kept a straight face. “I am. How can I help you?”
I drew a complete blank and stared at him. “Holy shit, Beck. What the hell am I going to say to this man?”
“I don’t know. How about starting by asking him if he remembers your mother?”
“Oh. Yeah…that’s a good idea. It’s an icebreaker.”
Beck held his hand out. “Go ahead. Try it out.”
I straightened in my chair. “Hi. Are you Alex Stewart?”
“I am. How can I help you?”
I took a deep breath. “This might be a strange question, but do you remember a woman named Erica Sutton?” I shook my head. “Sorry. Erica Kerrigan. Kerrigan is her maiden name.”
“Yes. What about her?”
“Well, she’s…my mom.”
“Okay…”
“Oh gosh. Do you think he won’t get it when I say that, and I’ll have to say more?”
Beck shrugged. “No idea. But might as well prepare for the worst.”
“You’re right. Okay. Let me back up a question then. Do you remember a woman named Erica Kerrigan?”
“No.”
I blinked a few times. “What do you mean, no?”
“I don’t remember her.”
“No, Beck. You were supposed to say you do, like you did the first time.”
“This is improv. You gotta go with the flow. I’m guessing what he’s going to say.”
“Alright. Let’s just continue then.”
Beck went back into character. “I don’t remember any Erica Kerrigan.”
“How could you not remember her? You got her pregnant.” I covered my mouth. “Oh shit. Should I not say that?”
“I think you should say whatever you want to say. If it upsets you that he doesn’t remember a woman he got pregnant, let him know that.”
“Okay. What’s he going to say after I remind him he got her pregnant?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, what would you say if a girl walked up to you and said you got her mom pregnant?”
“I guess I’d be curious why the hell I was finding out only after the child was old enough to talk. But in your case, it’s different because your mother did tell him about you. So it shouldn’t come as a total shock.”
The bartender came over with my wine and Beck’s sparkling water. I knew my limits. Two glasses helped me relax. Well, at least normally it did. But the third one would put me over the edge and impair my judgment.
I sighed and motioned to my drink. “I think I’m going to skip that after all. One more glass and I either won’t go or shouldn’t go.”
Beck slid my glass back and moved his in front of me. “Have some water.”
“Thanks.”
“How about I drive you there?”
“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. It’s only a few miles away. I can take a cab.”
“Yes, but the cab driver isn’t going to talk you down off the ledge when you pull up.”
I smiled sadly. “That’s a good point. You sure you don’t mind?”
Beck shook his head. “Not at all.”
The Sunset Hotel looked just like the pictures on its website. Painted in Caribbean green, with bright white shutters and trim, it had that laid-back, island vibe. Two employees in floral uniforms danced to overhead reggae music as we pulled up. The taller of the two men opened my door with a smile.
“Welcome to the Sunset Hotel.” He offered a hand to help me out of the car. “Are you checking in today?”
“Umm… No. There’s a bar here, right? I just came to have a drink.”
“Our bar is the place to be for the sunset.” He gestured to the open-air lobby. “You just go straight through to the back and down the stairs. You can’t miss it.”
Beck walked around the car. “You want me to come with you?”
“Oh no. I’ve interrupted your day enough. You have work to do.”
“It can wait.”
“I can’t ask you to do this with me…”
“You didn’t ask. I offered. I’ll just stick in the background in case you need me. Let you do your own thing.”
My palms were sweating, and I felt a little lightheaded. The thought of having someone I knew nearby did bring me comfort. So I nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
Beck tossed the keys to the valet. “Keep it for a little while?”
“Sure thing, mister.”
My heart raced as I walked into the hotel. I probably looked like a criminal, the way my eyes darted from person to person. Beck wrapped a hand around my hip and gently squeezed as he leaned in and whispered, “Breathe, sweetheart.”
I nodded and inhaled deeply. Once we were through the lobby, steps led down to an outside patio. The beach bar was visible below.
Beck and I stopped. “No one has looked old enough to be your father so far. So I take it we haven’t passed him yet?”
I shook my head.
“What does he look like?”
“Oh.” I pulled out my cell. “I can show you.” I typed into my phone and scrolled around the hotel’s website. “He looks like an aging beach bum—sun-bleached, sandy colored, shoulder-length hair. Tan. Sunglasses that hang around his neck from a Croakie.” I found the picture I was looking for under the About Us tab and turned my phone to show Beck.
He smiled. “Exactly how I would’ve pictured him from your description. Thanks. At least now I can help you keep an eye out.” He looked down at the bar below. “Did you really want to go to the bar, or did you want to take a look around first?”
“His bio says he can often be found working behind the beach bar, barefoot.”
“Alright then. You ready?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Beck chuckled. “Let’s go anyway.”
We walked side by side down the stairs to the beach. The bar had a thatched-palm roof that rustled in the breeze and bright blue seating around three sides. A few tables were off to one side, one of which was occupied by a couple in bathing suits.
I stopped as we reached the wooden path, less than a hundred feet away. “I think that’s him.”
Beck’s eyes zoned in on the man behind the bar. Sunglasses on top of his head held shaggy hair back, and he had a cigarette between his teeth as he opened a beer bottle. Beck nodded. “Certainly didn’t do any false advertising. I think that’s the same shirt he had on in the picture on the website.”
I couldn’t stop staring. “He’s nothing like William.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “William is clean-cut. He gets up at the crack of dawn and runs five miles a day—wearing shorts and a shirt with a reflective stripe for safety.”
“You going to be okay?” he asked.
I swallowed and nodded.
“Why don’t you sit at the bar, and I’ll take a seat at one of the tables, give you some privacy.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
Beck smiled. “You got this.”
The short path that led to the bar felt more like a gangplank. When we reached the bar area, Beck winked at me and kept walking toward an empty table. I took the closest seat to him, which happened to be the farthest from the bartender.
I thought I’d get a minute to pull myself together, but my butt cheeks were barely on the stool when the man behind the bar walked over. The sunglasses that had been on top of his head now covered his eyes. He flashed a welcoming smile.
“Hey, beautiful. What can I get you?”
Oh God. I felt queasy, like I might throw up. But apparently, whatever was going on internally didn’t show on the outside. Or at least the bartender didn’t seem to notice. Because he waited, as if I was supposed to respond rather than puke all over his bar.
“Umm… I’ll take a piña colada.”
“You got it.”
My eyes followed as he walked to the other end of the bar and tossed some things into a blender. I searched his profile for any resemblance.
Maybe we have the same chin? Though it was hard to tell with all that scruff on his face.
His cheekbones were high, but so were my mom’s, and no one but her was ever going to get credit for any of my good features. When he pressed the button and the blender whirred to life, I nearly jumped out of my seat. I needed to get a hold of myself.
Too soon, the man—my father—walked back to my end of the bar. He set the drink in front of me, and I hoped he would just go back to whatever he’d been doing before I sat down. But no such luck. He lifted a knee onto something behind the bar and leaned.
“Haven’t seen you around before. You just check in today?”
My hands were shaking. “Oh... I’m not staying here. I just came to have a drink.”
He covered his heart with his hand. “Not staying here? That hurts. There’s no better place to stay than the Sunset.” He pushed the sunglasses back on top of his head and revealed a set of familiar bright green eyes that popped from his tanned skin. “What does your hotel have that the Sunset doesn’t?”
Looking into his eyes was like looking in the mirror. Our eyes were identical in color. If you asked ten people who met me what color my eyes were, you’d get five different answers. They weren’t blue. They weren’t green. They were somewhere in between. On a cloudy day, some might even call them gray. When I was younger, I’d never been certain what box to check when a form asked for eye color—though I’d settled on green as a teenager and made it official with my license and passport. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d heard someone say they’d never seen eyes my color. And honestly, I hadn’t either. Until now.
But I was the only one who’d noticed. Because while I was stupefied and unable to do anything but stare, the man with my eyes seemed to be waiting for something.
Shit. What did he ask?
Something about the sunset?
“I’m sorry, what did you ask?”
“I asked what your hotel has that this one doesn’t? But let me tell you what this one has that yours doesn’t instead.”
“Okay…”
He pointed two thumbs at himself. “Alex Stewart.”
Confirmation of this man’s identity hit me hard. “Alex…Stewart?” For some reason, it came out like a question.
“It has a nice ring to it on your tongue. And you are?”
My heart pounded, and a sheen of sweat formed on my forehead. Did he know what my mother had named me? Should I make up a fake name?
He stood so close, just on the other side of the narrow bar, and watched me so intently, there wasn’t a lot of time for deliberation. So I went with the truth, which might be telling him without telling him.
“My name is Nora Sutton.”
I held my breath and waited for something to register on his face—surprise, shock, confusion, even a vague sense of familiarity. But…nothing. So I pushed a little more.
“Actually, my name is Eleanor Sutton. I was named after my grandmother. Though no one calls me Eleanor. Not since my mom passed. Well, except my friend Louise sometimes. But I go by Nora.”
Not a batted eyelash.
Not a squint.
Definitely no jaw dropping in shock.
Nothing…
It made my insides feel hollow.
My own father didn’t recognize me. Not by face. Or by name. Even if you’ve had no contact with your child for nearly thirty years, how do you forget her name once you’ve been told?
“So you here by yourself, Eleanor—Nora Sutton?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’m traveling with a friend.”
“Is she as pretty as you?”
Oh Jesus. Is he flirting with me? When I walked up, he called me beautiful. But I’d chalked it up to an island bartender being friendly. But now, the hollow I’d felt inside started to fill—with anger.
“She is,” I said. “And she’s closer to your age, too.”
I had one hand casually resting on the bar. Alex reached across and stroked his finger along the top. My anger bubbled to rage.
“Are you married, Alex?”
“Let’s not spoil the moment, babe.”
Ugh.Yet I managed to smile. It was an evil one with clenched teeth, but a man who didn’t recognize his own daughter’s name surely was too oblivious to notice.
“Have any children?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Never wanted any.”
That was a kick in the gut. My emotions swung from sad to angry and back to sad again like a ping-pong match.
“How long are you in town for?” he asked.
“Just the night.”
“How about if I show you the island?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is that a service you offer? Every person who passes through this place gets a free tour of the island?”
The asshole seemed to be enjoying our banter. He flashed a smarmy smile.
“Only the beautiful ones. So whadda you say? I can get someone to cover me. I’ve got an open-air Jeep parked right out front.”
“No thanks.” I stood. This had been a mistake. A giant one.
“Where you going? You haven’t even touched your drink.”
“Somewhere there’s better company.” I turned away, but stopped and looked back. “You know what? You should learn to have more respect for women. A man your age should be keeping an eye on a lady sitting at the bar by herself, not eyeing who he can take advantage of.”
Alex’s face twisted. “You’re all the same. Pretty girls who expect free drinks for nothing in return. That’s not the way the world works, babe.”
My eyes widened. There was so much anger and disappointment inside me. So I expressed it the only way I could at the moment. I picked up the piña colada I hadn’t touched and tossed the contents of the glass in his face. “Nice to meet you, Alex Stewart.”
Before he could wipe the frosty drink from his eyes, Beck was up and over the bar with my father’s shirt in his grip.
Oh shit.
He looked like he was about to kill.
“Beck, no!”
Anger seeped from his pores. “What the fuck did this guy do to you?”
I waved my hands. “He didn’t do anything. Let’s just go.”
When Beck didn’t loosen his grip on Alex, I leaned across the bar and touched his shoulder.
“Beck, please. It’s fine. I just want to get out of here.”
He let go, lifting his chin to my unsuspecting father. “You’re fucking lucky, buddy.”
My father just stood there, wiping the drink from his face, as Beck hopped back over the bar.
“You sure you’re alright?” Beck asked.
I shook my head. “I just want to get out of here.”
He wrapped an arm around my waist and navigated us back through the hotel. Neither of us said a word as we walked up the stairs, into the lobby, and waited for the valet to bring Beck’s rental car. The silence continued as we got in, and Beck drove white-knuckled down the road. We’d gone about a mile when he pulled into the parking lot of a boarded-up laundromat.
He slammed the gear shifter into park and turned to face me. His jaw was hard and rigid. “What happened? Are you sure you’re okay?”
I’d managed to stuff down the emotions of the last hour. But now they all rushed to the surface at once. My mouth trembled as I spoke. “He…hit on me.”
Beck’s face was positively murderous. He mumbled a string of curses under his breath.
I fought the burn of tears. “I said my name—he didn’t even recognize it. How does a person not recognize the name of their child? Even if he’d only heard it once in his life. My name is Eleanor. It’s not like it’s Katelyn or Ashley.” Tears welled in my eyes. “How many Eleanors do you know?”
Beck didn’t say a word. His eyes followed a tear as it streaked down my face. Then he abruptly got out of the car and walked around to my side. He opened the passenger door and held out a hand for me. Once I was standing, he wrapped me in his arms. It shocked the shit out of me, but it was also exactly what I needed. The independent part of me wanted to wiggle out, tell him I was fine and it wasn’t a big deal. But the part of me that few had ever seen needed this so much.
Every hurt I’d felt over the last eleven years about a father who didn’t want me bubbled to the surface. And I cried. And cried. Ugly, snot-leaking, breath-catching cries. Beck held me so tightly, there was a good chance I’d be bruised tomorrow. But I didn’t care. When the sobs finally subsided, he pulled back to look at me.
“Did you get it out?”
I laughed through the last of my emotions. “I did. And it’s all over your shirt.”
Beck smiled. “It’s okay. I have another one.”
He loosened his hold, but didn’t let go until my breathing returned to normal.
“You want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. “Not really. There’s not much more than I told you.”
“The offer isn’t limited to talking about what happened just now.”
I forced a smile. “Thanks. But I think I’m okay.”
Beck put his hands on his hips. “What do you want to do? You want to go back to the hotel?”
I shook my head. “Let’s go get drunk at some hole-in-the-wall local place.”
A smile spread across Beck’s face. “Now you’re talking…”
