Page 59 of Lucky Girl (Dear Rockstar 2)

“But how did he know you worked there?”

“I don’t know.”

“I just don’t like it.” Dale said. “It feels wrong to me.”

“Everything involving me and another man feels wrong to you,” I snapped.

“I’m just trying to be rational,” he said softly.

“Fine, why don’t I just tell him up front I’m going to require a blood sample, so we can do some DNA testing?” I rolled my eyes.

“Those take weeks. By the time we had the results, if he is what I think he is, he’ll be long gone.”

“You’re impossible.” I felt the corners of my mouth twitching, ready to smile.

“And you’re incredibly sweet and trusting and I love you.” He leaned over and kissed me. “But maybe you should ask for that blood test.”

“Dale!” I punched his shoulder.

“Damn, remind me not to get in the ring with you.”

“Oh my God that’s him.” My mouth went instantly dry. I couldn’t even swallow. He was tall and lean, wearing khakis and a button-down light blue chambray shirt, just like he said he would be. He had short, sandy blond hair, not quite a military cut but close. I searched his face for any resemblance as he scanned the room, hesitating in the doorway.

His gaze skipped over me to Dale and then back to me. Our eyes met and he smiled, lifting his hand in a wave. I waved back, hoping I didn’t look overeager. I felt overeager and had for weeks. I’d been ready to get in my car and drive to LaGuardia, where he first called me from. He was heading back to Florida—he’d only been in New York for a few days on business, he said. But he promised he would be back in a month.

And here he was, keeping that promise.

He’d given me his Florida phone number and we’d talked on the phone several times. He assured me I could ask him anything I wanted. Dale had woken up a few times in the middle of the night to find me sitting next to the bed on the floor with a notebook and a flashlight, writing down all the things I wanted to know, things my mother had never told me. A lifetime of questions crammed into two weeks.

And now that he was here, I didn’t know what to say.

He strode over to our table and Dale stood, reaching his hand out.

“Benjamin Barnes.” Ben shook Dale’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Dale Diamond.” He looked over at me. “I’m going to take my coffee over there and let you two talk.”

“Oh you don’t have to do that.” Ben’s smile widened when he glanced at me and I smiled back. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

“That’s okay, I need to catch up on my reading.” Dale held up a copy of the New York Daily News. I didn’t realize he’d brought it along, but then I saw the picture of us that had been printed two weeks ago. He’d folded it so Ben could see it clearly when he held it up. I rolled my eyes at the posturing—did he really think someone would make up a story so elaborate?

Dale leaned over and his lips brushed my cheek and he whispered, “I love you.”

“Take a seat,” I said to Ben, nodding at the chair across from mine. I still didn’t know what to call him. Ben seemed so formal and calling him “Dad” didn’t feel quite right yet either so I tried to avoid calling him anything.

Dale took a step back, letting Ben pull out the chair.

“Sara, I’ll be right over there if you need me,” Dale said again, pointing to an empty table near the window. I just nodded.

“Do you want something?” I asked, looking down at my hot chocolate that was, by now, not hot at all. Dale had taken his coffee and scone.

“No, I’m good.” Ben leaned his elbows on the table, looking at me. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Such a stupid answer, but what was I supposed to say? Dale and John had both encouraged me to go to a therapy appointment—or to at least call Dr. Jarvis—but I hadn’t. I knew what Dr. Jarvis would ask. How does it make you feel? I was excited, nervous, anxious, confused, afraid, sad, and a little angry. The neurotic seven dwarves. But I wasn’t about to tell Ben that.

“How about you?” I asked. “How was your flight?”

“Fine.”

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