She pressed a hand on his arm. “Hank, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but your dad’s request sounded reasonable. Maybe you should visit with him while he’s in town. Don’t you want to meet your sisters?”
Hank narrowed his eyes. “If your ex called you up and wanted to come for a visit with his new girlfriend, would you let him?”
A cold chill crawled up her back. “That’s not the same. Besides, this isn’t about me.”
A muscle clenched in his cheek. “You’re right. It isn’t about you. It’s about me. My relationship with my dad isn’t up for discussion.”
“I...” She sucked in a breath at the sting. He was right. They hadn’t known each other long enough. It was none of her business. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t mean to get too personal.”
For a long moment, Hank didn’t speak, and the silence between them grew awkward.
She searched her brain for a safe topic. “It’s been years since I’ve been invited to a baseball game. My dad used totake Travis and me as kids a few times a year—back when they were called the Indians. One time, we caught a fly ball. I think Travis still has it in his bedroom.” She rambled but couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Did you know the team was originally called the Naps? That was a tribute to one of the popular players in the early 1900s. His name was Napoleon, or Naps for short.”
Hank brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips, which erased every stray thought in her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. My father is a sore subject.”
Bethany shivered and pulled her hand from his. “I know. I didn’t mean to upset you. Especially when we’re enjoying your birthday gift. Can you forget I said anything? I’d really like us to have a good time.”
Hank sighed, the sound a lot like the steam from her pressure cooker at the end of its cycle. “Listen, I know you meant well. But that man doesn’t deserve to call himself my father. He was never there for me growing up. Not once. He has no right to call me out of the blue and tell me he wants to come visit me in LA with his wife and my half-sisters, whom I’ve never met, and expect me to accept them. It’s too much to ask.”
“I understand, but...” Bethany said and swallowed. She did understand. But she also knew that if his father was looking for forgiveness, Hank owed it to himself to hear him out.
Hank stretched his hands behind his head. “But what? I can see you’re dying to give me your opinion.” He closed his eyes. “Go ahead. I’ll try not to lose my temper.”
How could she make him understand? Bethany clenched her hands in her lap and studied her nails. She’d chewed them to nubs worrying about the family business.Looking at them helped her get out the next part with barely a tremor in her voice.
“Desmond took every bit of money I had in my savings account, including the money Travis and I got from our insurance policy after our parents were killed. This was the money I was planning to use to keep Grandma Lou’s afloat. He knew what I was trying to do, and yet he betrayed me anyway. I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, but...”
Hank opened his eyes and squinted. He looked every inch a god—a curious, questioning one. “But what?”
“He never intended to marry me.” An aching embarrassment washed over her like a wave rushing to shore, leaving a cold chill behind. She shivered. “He didn’t love me—all he wanted was my money.”
Hank turned her face to meet his sharp gaze. “He’s a fool. I’m sorry.”
Bethany’s face heated, and she twisted until he released her chin. She looked out the window rather than meet his knowing eyes. “The only other thing he found attractive was my cooking skills. To say I’m bitter is an understatement. It’s been two years, and I’m still furious. I loved him—trusted him. He betrayed me in the worst way possible.”
“He deserves to be behind bars. Why didn’t you hire a lawyer?”
“Don’t you think I tried? I gave him joint access to the account. In the eyes of the law, he didn’t do anything wrong. He had a right to the money. It was my fault for trusting someone who didn’t deserve my trust. Poor Travis has had to suffer the consequences of my poor judgment.”
“I don’t think your brother blames you for what happened.”
Bethany gripped the seat and tried to ignore the heat inhis gaze, which drew her toward him like a powerful magnet. “He doesn’t. But I do. I can’t forgive myself. Desmond never once asked for forgiveness. He never once admitted he was wrong. But your father has.”
She finally had the courage to look his way.
He studied her from under hooded eyes. “So, because my father said he’s sorry for years of neglect, you think I should forgive him?”
She put her hand on his. “No, Hank. What I’m saying is you should hear him out. Let him visit. Give him a chance to explain. Maybe something he says will ease your anger...help you understand his neglect. It’s a gift you give yourself.”
He studied her hand. After a few moments, he placed his other hand on top of hers and rubbed his thumb across it, sending a warm tingle through her skin. “I’ll think about it.”
“All right.” She would have to be satisfied with his answer. She could hear her mother’s voice in her mind:Baby steps, sweetheart, baby steps.
They were quiet for the rest of the ride until Louis parked the car in front of the stadium.
“Let’s go.” Hank threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her along until they reached the club seat section. “This place looks amazing. Much different than the last time I was here.” He tugged at her hand. “C’mon, the game’s about to start.”
They found their seats, but not before helping themselves to hotdogs smothered in stadium mustard, golden french fries, and giant sodas.
