Chapter 7 #2
“All I said was ‘my beard.’ It’s telling, Caroline, that those two words made you think of a kiss.
” She gave me a dirty look. I grinned back before returning to the more serious conversation.
“It was probably best that you didn’t say anything then.
” I picked up the picture of my mom and me.
“I’m not sure how I would have responded.
Probably the same way you didn’t like me giving you condolences on your broken engagement. ”
“Why are you always bringing that up?” She groaned. “It’s so embarrassing.”
“It should be embarrassing to me, not you. I deserved everything you said and more. I knew better. After my mom died, I hated sympathy from random people. I finally had enough energy to go to the store in person and then one of my mom’s well-meaning friends would ask me how I was doing; how was I really doing?
And that one sympathetic question would push me over the edge.
” I put the photo down. “I knew better than to do the same to you. But I did it anyway. I’m sorry. ”
She hastily looked away, then picked up one of my favorite epic fantasies that she pretended to be interested in. “Of course, you felt bad—you had the extra guilt that you were responsible for my pain.”
“I’m never going to feel guilty for that.”
“Yeah, yeah, you were just being a knight in shining armor, saving the damsel in distress. Hurrah! Huzzah! But maybe I didn’t want to be saved? Did you ever think of that?”
“I don’t believe you. No one in their right mind would want to spend their life with Greg.”
She let out a long breath. “You have a point.” She put the book down and gave me a wry smile. “Perhaps I’ll forgive you when I’m finished paying for the wedding that never happened.” I couldn’t believe Greg left Caroline to pay for the wedding. Except I totally could; that sounded like him.
She picked up another photo. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait! Is this the car?”
“Yeah, my dad’s favorite child.” My mom and I stood in front of the red Maserati, the infamous Spyder Grandpa Scott offered to the first grandchild married, plus a million.
“He bought and restored it and then sold it to Grandpa Scott. According to my dad, Grandpa promised that before he ever sold it, he would give my dad first dibs.”
“But he’s not selling it,” said Caroline. “He’s giving it away. Clever.”
“Like any good lawyer, Grandpa found the loophole. Dad was furious at him, at Greg, at me.”
“At you?”
“Yeah, I was dating someone at the time. We’d been dating a while, a nice girl named Kaitlyn. My dad wanted me to propose and set our wedding date a month before Greg’s.”
“And did you propose?”
“Nah, I broke up with her.”
“You rebel!”
“You know me,” I answered playfully, though Caroline’s comment grated.
I couldn’t ever tell how much she believed all the crap Greg said about me being the bad boy and black sheep of the family.
And in this case, it couldn’t be further from the truth; I didn’t break up with Kaitlyn to piss my dad off.
I broke up with her because when Grandpa Scott made that announcement over Christmas Eve dinner, all I could think about was Caroline.
I knew Greg. He would get back together with her as soon as possible, and he would propose.
And I knew she would say yes. And the thought of her marrying my cousin made me sick.
That was when I realized that somewhere along the way, my crush on my cousin’s girlfriend had grown to something more.
I couldn’t date Kaitlyn when all I could think about was someone else.
I couldn’t say any of this to Caroline. I had already said too much the other night. As she waited for my answer, her ice-blue eyes searched my face as if she could read my thoughts. I had to play it cool.
“You know me,” I shrugged. “Always moving to greener pastures.”
She rolled her eyes, then pivoted away from the bookshelf.
“Where’s your room?” she asked. Not going to lie, that question threw me. “I’m dying to get a look at your closet.”
Resigned, I pointed to my door. She marched ahead of me. I followed, hoping my room was presentable.
“Whoa! You make the bed!” Caroline sounded as excited as if she had found a new pair of designer shoes. Apparently, after Greg, it doesn’t take much to impress her.
“It’s not a huge accomplishment. Don’t sound so shocked.”
“You even put the throw pillows on. Most guys don’t do that.”
“My mom picked out those pillows,” I said.
Caroline nodded like she understood. But how could she?
When my mom first brought those oversized throw pillows into my room, I complained that I didn’t need them.
When would I use them? They just added more work to my life.
For months, they sat in a neat stack in the corner of my room.
But when she got sick, really sick, I started putting them on my bed each morning.
Now that she was gone, the ritual of placing the throw pillows served as both tribute and apology.
Why did I complain so much? Why hadn’t I been more grateful? Why did she have to get sick?
Caroline opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it, and headed for my walk-in closet.
I stayed back for a minute, nervous to spend so much time with her in such close quarters.
Not that it was a tight space. Many bedrooms were smaller than my closet.
But something about a closet felt intimate.
“Wyatt Scott Knox!” she called from my closet. “This is a travesty!” I hastened to see what the fuss was about. Caroline stood in the middle of my closet with her arms outstretched. “You have the most amazing closet in the world and it’s empty ?”
I sat down on the leather-tufted bench in the center of the wood-paneled room while Caroline slowly took inventory of my closet.
There were racks for shoes. Drawers for underwear and workout clothes.
Shelves intended for sweaters. All empty.
She ran her hand across the mostly empty wooden hangers, making a slight rattling noise.
At the end of the closet was a full-length mirror.
A picture of my parents at Lake Tahoe was taped on it.
“But seriously, Wyatt? Where are all your clothes?”
“I’m wearing most of them.”
She paced through the closet, ruthlessly opening empty drawers. She held up a pair of my boxer briefs. “You fold your underwear?” she asked with disbelief.
“Anyone ever tell you, you’re nosy?” I reached for my briefs.
“Wyatt Knox is a tidy freak,” she said, mainly to herself. “Who knew?” She shook her ponytail with disbelief.
I shrugged as I rerolled my underwear. “And you’re not?”
“I like things organized, but this is next level. I’m not even sure I made my bed today.”
“Tsk, tsk. Caroline, you disappoint me.” I gave her a mock stern look.
“Not as much as you disappoint me. I can’t believe this closet; it’s glorious. And you’re not even using it. I cannot wait to fill it up.”
“I have all the clothes I need.”
“No, you’re wrong. I am all for minimalism.
I’m continually culling my clients’ closets.
Dressing right is so much easier when you eliminate all the items that don’t work.
But this is extreme. Two pairs of jeans.
” She held up a hand and ticked off items of clothing.
“Three joggers and one pair of dress pants. I don’t see a suit.
How can you be a Scott and not own a suit? Greg has at least a dozen.”
“Greg’s a lawyer.”
“What do you wear to the Scott New Year’s party? I thought all the men in your family wore tuxes.”
“I have dress pants. Though at the party you went to, I wore jeans.”
“Shut up! How did I miss that?” I shot her an incredulous look. “Oh, yeah... right. I was a little preoccupied.”
I wasn’t surprised that Caroline didn’t notice me lurking in the corners at that party.
Dressed in a sleek black velvet gown, she floated from room to room, radiant.
She couldn’t stop smiling. It twisted my heart to see her like that.
It was good to see her happy, but not with my cousin. “Greg had me help with the fireworks.”
“You helped with my proposal?” She sounded genuinely curious. Not hurt or angry, like she normally did with any reference to her engagement.
I’d always felt a little guilty about it.
At the time, I suspected Greg was proposing for the wrong reasons.
But I didn’t know for certain. I wanted to believe that he had seen the light and realized just how lucky he was to have the love of Caroline Bingham.
Hoping for the best, I agreed to help. I regretted it a month later when I saw him out with someone else.
“I did. I froze my butt off.” I had been the one out on the barge who lit the burning letters.
“That was the happiest night of my life,” she said wistfully. She sat down on the bench next to me.
“I know.”
“And you wore jeans?” She shook her head.
“I was hardly at the party.” I shrugged. “I spent most of the night setting up the fireworks, and after that, I went to bed.” No need to tell her that I stole a whole platter of sushi and ate it by myself alone in my room while listening to Bon Iver’s classic breakup album.
“It might sound weird considering how things ended,” Caroline said softly. “But I loved that proposal. Thank you.”
She gave me the sweetest smile. It was a new-to-me smile, not a fake smile or an angry smile, nor the smile of victory after winning a game, but the smile she gave my younger cousins.
It was a fond smile. Not the sickening, all-adoring, worshipful look she gave Greg.
But far better than what I usually got. It was well worth risking frostbite setting up that stupid proposal.
“Okay, no suit, no problem,” she said, all business-like. “Go shower, and I’ll find something passable for you to wear.”
“You’re going to hang out in my closet while I shower?” I asked. Why did that make me nervous?
She nodded. I hated the idea. I hated how she acted like being alone with me in my closet didn’t affect her at all, while I found being alone with her completely unsettling.
Every time she took a turn around the room, I inhaled a whiff of her perfume or felt the fabric of her skirt brush against me.
I wanted to distract her the way she distracted me.
I whipped off my tank top and tossed it in the laundry basket.
“Wyatt!” Caroline shrieked. She covered her face with one hand, though I could see her blue eyes peeking through her fingers. “Wait until I leave!” she said.
“But, I’m trying to be helpful here . . .”
“No! I...” She gulped. Her gaze settled on my bare chest.
“Eyes up here, Caroline,” I said, pointing to my face.
“That would be easier if you kept your shirt on.”
“Did you expect me to shower with my clothes on?”
She rushed toward me. “Get out now!” She shooed me out the door.
“Whatever you say.” I backed out laughing. In the privacy of my room, I shucked off my shorts, then tossed them back into my closet.
“Wyatt!!!” That was more like it! That was the reaction I wanted.