Chapter Nineteen
Clifton
As the shock of my father’s near-death experience wears off, I realize that maybe I shouldn’t let the accident wash away the mistakes he’s made. I also shouldn”t let it push me to make big mistakes of my own. Like pushing Emma away. Maybe we’re playing with fire, maybe we’ll get burned, but I think if I don’t go for it, I’ll spend the rest of my life looking back with regret.
“What are you thinking about?” Anton asks, his gaze studying my face.
“That now that you didn’t die, I can still be mad for all the ways you let me down.” I’m teasing, of course. The doctors told me that him surviving the night is a good sign, but he’s not out of the woods yet. I just don’t want to treat him like he’s fragile - that would be bad for both of us.
I’m glad he’s awake, looking very alert, and has been trying to pester me about business happenings all day. Of course, I know that around the office morale is low and people aren’t getting a lot accomplished, but things are running as smoothly as one could expect given the circumstances.
He lets his breath out in a huff. “Tough crowd.”
I chuckle. I’m relieved that he’s looking and sounding more like himself. I can imagine him walking out of this room and back into the office, giving people grief for not getting enough done while he was gone. Of course, I know we”re a ways away from that. First he needs to completely heal. Then he might need physical therapy, and who knows what kind of brain damage he might have. He might never be able to do his job again, and that would be fine. I can take up the mantle and run the place the way he envisions. Even if he never recovers all the way.
I’m already grateful he survived. I know how lucky he is to be here right now. I know the doctors didn’t expect him to make it through the night, nor did they think he’d be doing this well this morning. Yet here he is, talking almost normally and obviously clear-headed - once the pain drugs in his system are considered, of course.
“Did Emma really stop by? Or was that a dream?” As soon as he says the words, those old feelings of jealousy flare back up in me. Of course, he still wants to know how Emma is, and if his favorite non-blood related child is doing okay.
“She stopped by.”
He glances at me. “You don’t sound pleased.”
“I’m fine. Just glad you’re still kicking.” Kicking my ass with his thoughts centering on Emma again, of course. When I was little, this man inspired me. Now I worry I’ll become him. My emotions regarding the man who raised me are complex and deep, and they flip-flop more often than my heart when I’m thinking about Emma.
How is it possible to love someone and feel so disappointed and let down by them?
“I’m proud of you. Of everything you”ve accomplished and how strong you are.” I don”t doubt he means the words, but he doesn”t know the half of what I”ve dealt with. And I know for a fact that the way we view the world is very, very different.
But his words from another time flow back into my mind. “Are you sure I didn’t turn out to be a disappointment? Or that mom was stupid not to terminate me?”
He winched, his features contorting in agony. “I deserve that.”
We’re silent for a moment, then he speaks, his voice sounding smaller and more frail than I ever remembered him sounding. “I love your mother more than life itself. When she died, I was angry that she left me to be a single father and raise you, even though I was an awful parent, and she was the one that had the ability to turn him into a good man.”
He never said anything so open and raw before, and I hear the ring of truth in his voice. “So you were angry at me that she died?” I’m not upset, merely curious.
“Son, I was mad at the world. The only reason I created this firm was out of sheer spite, because she didn”t think it would be healthy for me, or that I”d be able to keep it going on my own. I was mad at her for dying, I was mad at you for relying on me and looking up to me, I was mad at the universe for taking such a shining light out of existence and leaving a scumbag like me still walking.” His voice cracks and turns to a pained, raw whisper. “It wasn’t fair.”
This is a side of him I’ve never seen before. And suddenly my whole life makes so much more sense.
“You have every right to hate me. What I did was unforgivable, and I”m not asking for your forgiveness; I just want to help you understand.” The way he”s speaking so openly and honestly leaves me feeling like again, he thinks there”s no way he”s walking out of here.
While his explanation doesn”t heal the deep wounds within me, it”s definitely a Band-Aid that staunches the blow. “I was mad, too.” I can remember how angry I was that she died and left me with an absolute monster of me. Sure, he”s mellowed out as I”ve grown up, but that doesn”t undo - or even soften - any past.
“Thank you for explaining.” It means a lot to me that he”s willing to reach out and help me really know the man, even the parts he sounds ashamed of.
“She was the best thing that ever happened to me and losing her was like being gutted.” He inhales a slow, shaky breath. “And you remind me so much of her, except with all my worst parts mixed in.”
Those words sting, but I completely understand what he means. I became the man that raised me, for better or for worse.
“I forgive you.” With those words, I feel the way of the world lift off my shoulders. I don”t want to carry the weight of his hatred and resentment any longer. I want a chance for us to move forward on fresh, even ground.
“I don’t deserve that.” He sounds honest, though broken. “But if life gives me the chance, I’d like to try to do better moving forward. I can’t change the past, but I can work on our future.”
“I”d like that,” I say.
And just like that, even though things between us aren”t fixed, I feel a lot less angry with him. If his actions speak as loud as his words moving forward, I will absolutely have no problem letting this man be a deeply ingrained part of my life.
Of all the things I expected, a heart-to-heart bonding moment where we talk about the past, apologize, forgive one another, and move forward absolutely was not one of them.
“If you manage to get the love of a good woman, don”t ever let it go.” Dad sounds lost in thought.
“If I manage?” I ask, teasing him once again. It feels good to have this humorous relationship with him instead of our typical serious, coldly polite banter.
“That’s what I said,” he responds, a smile stretching across his face.
I think about Emma, wondering if he’d have the same advice knowing I want her. I doubt it. He loves her like the daughter he never had, and I doubt he’d ever think I measure up for her.
I wish she was here; I want nothing more than to give her a hug, inhale her sweet scent, feel her warmth.
“I need to make a call,” I say to my father before stepping out of the room.
I dial Emma’s number, but the call goes to voicemail. I don”t blame her. She”s probably upset at me; I was a Grade-A dick to her after we’d shared an amazing night together. I”m sure she feels used and cast aside like garbage, but nothing could be further from the truth.
When my phone rings and I see her name on the screen, I thank my lucky stars that she”s called me back.
“Hello?” She sounds equal parts cautiously optimistic and afraid as she answers my call. “How is Anton?” I swear I can hear her holding her breath.
“On the mend, but not out of the woods. I wanted to apologize for being so out of sorts before.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You have a lot going on.” The way she just brushes off my behavior almost bothers me. She deserves better.
“I owe you an apology. I feel bad for treating you that way. You deserve better.” There”s no way I”m going to let her dodge my apology. “Can we spend some time together today?” I ask, thinking on my feet. I want to spend some quality time with her, and an idea is already forming in my mind.
“Sure.” She sounds unsure, but not worried.
“Okay, I’ll text you an address. Meet at three?” I ask, noting that waiting until three gives me exactly two hours to prepare.
“That sounds good. See you then.” With that, we say our goodbyes and my heart leaps. I have plans to make.
Two hours later, I watch her walk into the park where I’d asked her to meet me. Her gaze meets mine and a smile brightens her face as she walks my direction. She reaches my side. I take her hand and lead her toward the little ice cream cart that I”d spied earlier. I know this particular vendor often hangs out near the park.
“Ice cream?” I ask.
“I love pistachio,” she says, and I signal for two cones as the vendor serves us up. The weather is warm and the sun peeks from behind intermittent clouds as we take our cones and go for a walk amongst the beautiful trees and plants.
“You like pistachio, too?” she asks.
“I’ve never had it and wanted to try,” I say honestly. The thought of a nut-flavored ice cream always steered me away but as I try the light green treat, I’m pleasantly surprised.
“And what do you think?” she asks, angling her body toward me as we walk.
“I think I have a new favorite ice cream flavor,” I respond.
She laughs. “Okay, now honestly.”
“Honestly,” I say, smiling at her. “This is my new favorite.”
A smile tugs the corners of her lips and she’s quiet for a moment. We continue walking, making our way toward a giant weeping willow tree. The branches hang all the way to the ground and offer peek-a-boo privacy as I lead her into the haven.
Sunlight trickles through, splashing the ground and the wind stirs the branches as we sit.
“We never did talk about the other night,” she says.
She”s right. We didn”t, mostly because I had no idea what to say. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin the moment between us or make her realize she regretted our time spent together. I lift both shoulders. “I wasn”t sure I could handle this soul crushing sensation of you telling me you made a mistake and wanted to go back to being coworkers again.”
She gives me a sideways glance. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”
Her gaze lowers to my lips. And slowly, I lean in, kissing her sweet, slightly sticky lips. The kiss is slow and gentle, like neither of us are in a hurry and all we want to do is enjoy one another.
“Well, well, well.”
She and I both glance up at Sterling”s voice. He”s standing with his arms crossed, watching us both. “I guess I figured out why you want nothing to do with me anymore, Emma. Now you can just sleep your way to the top rather than work for it.”
Her body jerks as if he struck her and I stand up.
“Don”t bother saying anything Playboy. I”m going to make sure everyone in your office knows what you”re up to,” Sterling says with a dismissive grunt.
The thought of my father having to put up with this jackass while he”s potentially dying in a hospital bed leaves me shaking with cold rage. “Don’t you dare approach my father,” I say.
Sterling crosses his arms with a laugh. “Why? Afraid dear old dad will fire you both?” He sounds so sure of himself, but he couldn”t be more wrong.
Then he glances at Emma. “Did you get my messages?”
Something about the way he says the words makes my blood run cold. I glance back at her, watching her nod her head. Her slender throat flexes as she swallows hard.
“And?” he pushes.
“I don’t want to be with you, Sterling. And I”d like you to stop leaving notes and stalking me.”
As she says the words, his expression jerks into one of surprise and confusion. “I’m not stalking you; I”m trying to talk some sense into you before you do something you’ll regret.”
Which, of course, is exactly what a stalker would say.
Her anxious eyes meet mine for a moment before darting back to him. “Do you really think that holding me hostage like this is the way to win my affection?”
I fully expect those words to disarm this entire situation, but I guess I underestimate the level of Sterling’s delusion. The man is dangerous. His expression darkens as he glares at her.
“I’m going to get my revenge.”
I feel her fear as he speaks. “I’m going to tell everyone, and you’ll both get fired. Then you’ll have no choice but come crawling back to me, Emma. And I’ll laugh. Laugh in your face... I might not even take you back.” His words send an icy shiver down my spine. He’s lost touch with reality, and I can hear it in both his words and his tone.
“That’s not love, Sterling,” she says. “That’s abuse.”
He seems to realize she’s right and his face twists into a fuck you expression.
And in that moment, I see a flash into our futures where Emma is fired, judged, shamed. I can see the hurt in my dad”s eyes and the damage done to his firm, his legacy to me. I can see the scandal making headlines, and my father’s already fragile health suffering more with the emotional blow and turmoil.
We finally started to make amends; I don”t want to disappoint him, betray him, or fail him.
But I also don”t want to give up on what Emma and I have, because as time ticks by, I start to think this might be the real deal.
Still, if her attempts to defuse the situation only inflamed it more, I”m not sure what chance I have.
“My dad already knows, and we have his blessing. If you take this to anyone else in our company, I will make sure that the whole world knows that it”s just in retaliation for me beating the crap out of you in front of everyone.” I watch his anger rearrange his features yet again with a sense of satisfaction. “Everyone knows you were humiliated that day, so anything you say now is going to sound like retaliation.” I hate to lie and mislead people, but it”s definitely better than anyone getting hurt.
“So maybe it”s time for you to give up, get a life, and move on.” I can only hope that my words are enough to change his mind.
His eyes roll heavenward, and I can see him internally contemplating what I”ve said. For a moment, I”m actually hopeful that maybe this will make a difference and be the moment that makes him back off. Hearing that he has been leaving notes for Emma just makes my blood run cold, and I”m afraid what kind of behavior he”ll escalate to.
But as a moment ticks by, and then another, he finally seems to make a decision. Beside me, I feel Emma hold her breath.
“I don’t think I will,” Sterling says, offering a mocking salute to us. “Good luck and good riddance.”