12. Better than Essential Oils
12
BETTER THAN ESSENTIAL OILS
DAISY
I stand next to the door, stunned and unable to move as Charles leans back on the leather couch.
“This isn’t funny, Charles. Open the goddamn door.”
“Say yes and we can stop this useless discussion.”
“Useless? I’d say this has been the most useful discussion of my life. Now I see how imperfect you think I am. Why are you even pushing this?” My eyes narrow at him as an uncomfortable feeling finds its place in my chest.
“Because I also know that you can rise up to a challenge like no one else.” His penetrating gaze drills into me.
There must be something seriously wrong with me, because his praise warms my chest.
In my defense, Charles’ habit of giving compliments rivals that of a grizzly bear allowing anyone near her cubs.
This is probably the first, and possibly the last, time he’s openly acknowledged my work ethic.
“How are you not seeing the benefit here, Daisy? I become the CEO, while you can have whatever you need,” he states matter-of-factly, his tone crisp and without a hint of hesitation, making me wonder if I’m stupid to even question his proposal.
“What is it that you need?” He approaches me with confidence, the kind that often signals he’s not playing around and is here to seal the deal. “Whatever I promised yesterday is still on the table. Just tell me what I can add to it for you to say yes.”
“I don’t need your money. At least not for myself,” I mumble. “Forget it, this isn’t right.”
Embarrassment floods me like a whirlwind, and I spin around, forgetting that the door is still locked. Before I can ask him to unlock it, Charles places his hand over mine on the golden knocker. A shiver races down my spine at the touch of his soft, warm palm against my ice-cold hand.
“Why are you so cold?”
“Because I’m nervous! It’s not every day that my crazy boss proposes to marry me!”
His lips twitch. “See, you can call me all the names you think of out loud as my wife.”
Every time he says the word wife , a tiny explosion goes off inside me.
“Don’t worry, I get enough satisfaction when I’m saying them in my head.”
He grins, and despite my best efforts to ignore it, I can’t miss the lazy circles he’s tracing with his thumb on the back of my hand, still held in his grip, slowly warming up.
“Will you please tell me what I can do for you?”
All the butterflies drown in a storm of panic rising in my belly. The worry about Dad’s care returns with unbeaten intensity. I’ve called more hospitals and care facilities, even outside of town, but none are within my budget. When I called Aunt Mel this morning, she told me Dad once again left the gas burner on after making his breakfast. We were lucky she was there in time to turn it off. I’m scared to even imagine what would have happened otherwise.
Charles’ grip on my quivering hand tightens.
“Forget my proposition. What is happening that’s troubling you this much? Is that asshole ex of yours texting you again?” His teeth grit, and I quickly shake my head.
“I blocked his number.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s…my dad.” I blink rapidly to dispel the burning behind my eyes. Apart from Aunt Mel and Uncle Frank, I haven’t talked to anyone about the severity of Dad’s condition. My friends know he’s sick, but I’ve yet to tell them how badly.
Charles leads me back to the sitting area, and this time I go willingly. He guides me to the couch and settles down beside me.
“Tell me everything, okay?”
At hearing his featherlight, soft voice laced with concern, my tears threaten to make a reappearance.
I don’t know why I choose to share this with him before my friends. Maybe I’m just tired this morning after calling all the hospitals and still being nowhere near a solution. Maybe seeing Charles struggling with his problems, I feel more comfortable in acknowledging my own.
“My dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a few months back. I thought I’d have a little more time to figure everything out, but he’s already struggling, putting himself in life-threatening situations.”
Finally, I look up at Charles as he leans forward, listening to me with rapt attention. His expressionless, stoic face is one I’ve known throughout the years while working with him, unlike the new, foreign side of his personality that’s making my heart race a mile a minute. Right now, I can’t even imagine that he’s the same man who locked me inside this room, grinned, and made a crazy marriage proposition a few minutes ago.
“Yesterday, we couldn’t find him. That’s why I was late for your interview.”
“Why didn’t you call me, Dave, or Steve for help?” His voice maintains a calm cadence, which is both admirable and exasperating.
Do businessmen get some kind of special training on hiding their thoughts and emotions? If they did, I’m sure my boss was top of the class in the subject.
“My aunt’s husband and his friends managed to find Dad at the cemetery, but he doesn’t remember why he was there. He, of course, went to see Mom, but he left without a jacket and with the gas stove on.” I clutch the edges of my skirt as fear gnaws at my insides like a relentless predator stalking its prey, consuming every ounce of courage and leaving behind a hollow emptiness. “I cannot leave him unattended. He’s struggling to remember basic things. I need to find him a full-time caretaker, but everything is so freaking expensive.”
My gaze drops with humiliation. What kind of child can’t bear the expense of their parent’s medical bills?
“Here.”
I glance up to find Charles no longer perched on the couch but standing before me. He bends down and slides a check across the table.
“You should have told me about it sooner.”
When I make no move to grab the check, he arches an eyebrow.
“So you’re not going to accept my help?” he asks.
“I haven’t decided if I’ll accept your proposition,” I murmur. Everything I need to take care of Dad is right here. I just have to give up a few years of my life, and that’s all.
“Fuck the proposition. Do you really think I’d ask you to marry me in exchange for helping your dad? I’m not that much of an asshole.”
I sit in stunned silence because, deep in my heart, I knew Charles would never add a condition if I ever asked him for help. I continue to stare at the zeroes on the paper. “This is too much.”
“If it eases your mind, use what you need and return the rest,” he says calmly, setting aside his own problems in light of mine.
When I remain frozen, Charles takes my hand and places the check in my palm. I don’t think his fingers on my wrist miss my thundering pulse. The soft paper feels too heavy in my hands.
Are all my worries gone with a stroke of his signature?
“Your dad is with Cherrywood Memorial Hospital?”
When I confirm that, he gives me an inscrutable nod before pressing a discreet button under the table that I’ve never seen before, and the door clicks open.
“I’m sorry I did that.” An embarrassed smile finally graces his lips. “This was installed for security reasons. In case I’d need to protect myself from something dangerous outside. I never thought it would come in handy for capturing something special inside.”
Special ?
If this is a dream, I want to stay in it for a little while longer. My problems with Dad’s care might be gone, and Charles just called me special.
I return to my seat, unable to do anything but stare at the slip of paper with Charles’ elegant signature sitting at my desk. I’ve been worried about Dad for so many weeks, and now, with a flick of his pen, Charles solved everything. I don’t even know how much time has passed when the ringing of my phone interrupts my thoughts and I almost jump in my seat.
“How’s my favorite girl?” The familiar voice calms my anxious insides.
“Since when am I your favorite girl, Jimmy?”
“Since the moment I learned that the easiest cure for my shortness of breath and chest pain was you, and I didn’t have to waste hundreds of dollars on essential oils that don’t even work. When Charles and you make your relationship public, all these media vultures will finally have something good to say regarding Hawthorne Holdings. I can’t wait for these suckers to start a guessing game about the name of the Italian town hosting your wedding or the French chef baking your wedding cake.”
My stomach flips as I imagine the scene Jimmy paints in a chipper voice.
“Can you please tell that boss of yours that we still have to discuss how we’re sharing the news with the media?”
There’s a sudden pause in his excited speech, and Jimmy clears his throat once.
“Daisy, speaking of the media, don’t you worry about that asshole Jax Mendes who was on the news for ten seconds last night. Charles sent a personal message to the channel who did that interview. If they ever think about showing it again, they’ll no longer be in the entertainment business.”
“He did what?” My gasp resonates in the office, but it’s still not enough to put a dent on Jimmy’s excitement.
“Isn’t that romantic? The media will be eating from my hands if Charles continues to show this possessive side of his personality. Why is his phone busy anyway? What’s more important than resolving the only problem standing between him and the CEO title? Can you please check?”
“Um, you mean now?” Only half of my brain is focused on Jimmy’s instructions. The other half is still processing what he just told me about Charles.
“That would be good. I want to get the ball rolling on this news as soon as possible.”
“Okay, give me a minute. I’ll—” I’m about to knock when the door to Charles’ office is pulled open. Just the sight of him makes my heart lurch.
“It’s Jimmy,” I whisper.
Charles’ lips twist in their usual annoyance as he grabs my phone, still tucked to my ear, and ends the call.
“He wanted to talk to you!”
“Tell me something new. As opposed to what Jimmy thinks, I’m a businessman, not a celebrity. Besides, you need to leave.”
“What?”
Is he firing me for not accepting his offer?
Stop being so dramatic, Daisy. He just gave you a check to cover your dad’s expenses, why would he fire you?
“One of the best neurologists in the country is flying to Cherrywood Memorial today, and your dad has an appointment this afternoon.”
“How do you know about the doctor?”
“Because I asked him to visit, and also because he’s flying in the Hawthorne jet. Your dad’s neurologist suggested it himself.”
“You talked to my dad’s doctor?” My voice rises in shock. On one hand, his action is a gross intrusion of Dad’s privacy, yet on the other, I can’t believe it. Charles has never taken a personal interest in anyone’s life except his own.
“Not about the details of your dad’s medical case,” he replies in a clipped, almost offended tone. “I’m aware of the medical laws, Daisy. But a renowned neurologist visits Cherrywood Memorial twice a year. I just asked if we could make his visit sooner, and luckily, he agreed to my offer.”
My lips quiver and I don’t have the words or the strength to ask how much it costs to fly someone in a personal jet at one’s command, but it looks like Charles isn’t waiting for my question.
“You go now. Steve is already waiting for you in the parking lot.” He even hands me my bag and leads me to the private elevator.
An hour later, Dad and I step into the neurology department, where a nurse is waiting for us. For the first time, we’re not left waiting at reception. Instead, we’re escorted immediately to the doctor’s office. Dad undergoes a round of tests before the visiting doctor examines him. I’m still in a daze at how fast everything is moving, when his regular neurologist asks me to follow him into the lobby.
“Miss Price, we’ve received your application for a twenty-four-hour caregiver for your father. I’ve personally shortlisted three of our best candidates, and if you like, you can interview them today. This way, your dad can already have someone at his home by this evening.”
“B-but I didn’t fill out an application.” The shake in my voice can’t be tamed. All I can do is gape at him.
“Really?” The old man runs his fingers over his jaw as he looks down at the paper in his hand. “Perhaps Mr. Hawthorne did. Nevertheless, would you like to meet the candidates?”
I can only nod and follow him.
It’s almost late afternoon when I drive back to the office after dropping Dad off at his home. His new caretaker, Kai, is already with him. After interviewing the three candidates, I arranged for Kai and Dad to meet, and as expected, they instantly hit it off.
Kai is the youngest of seven siblings, and in his free time, he performs with his band at local restaurants. I’m sure his fun and approachable personality comes in handy in his job as a nurse.
When I reach the office, I find Charles standing in front of my desk, or more precisely, in front of the purple tray holding several menus from restaurants on the approved list by his security team.
An unruly strand of hair drops onto his forehead as he looks between the two menus in confusion. I clear my throat and he looks up.
“Thank God you’re here. How’s—”
“I’m in, Charles. If your proposal is still open, I’m ready to be your wife.”