Chapter Sixteen #2
"Yeah, but I shouldn't have thrown that back in your face."
She shrugged. "You didn't throw it at me, you just reminded me. But even worse than that — Becca's the only one here who knows that... Well, her dad, Chuck knows as well."
He squeezed her hands. "You really don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"But I do want to, Ollie. That's the point. We said no more secrets, right?"
He nodded.
"Well, this isn't a secret that I'm keeping from you. But I want you in on it with me."
"Okay, then."
"I told my folks that I moved out here for a job."
He raised his eyebrows. "Not to make your pottery?"
"Nope. I told you I used to work at the bank.
Well, I spent all my evenings and weekends first taking classes and then making things and selling them online.
It took me a couple of years to build up enough of a business that I felt secure enough to make it my only income.
But even when I showed them my savings and told them that I qualified for a mortgage without even including my bank salary, they were still too worried.
They didn't get it. They still don't get it.
They would have worried sick if they knew I was out here without a steady job.
So, I told them what they wanted to hear. "
He nodded slowly.
"Do you think I'm awful?" she asked.
"Hell no." He tugged her hands, and she planted her forehead in the middle of his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head. "I think you're more like me than I realized. You care, and you try to manage people's feelings for them."
She looked up at that, and he nodded. "I've done a lot of thinking over the last few days, Callie, and that's what I did to you. I tried to manage your feelings for you because I wanted a chance with you. My intentions were good, but—"
"Yeah, you're right. I'm doing the same thing with my folks. I'm lying to them with the best of intentions, but I'm still lying."
He nodded. "Do you plan to tell them?"
"At some point, yeah. I just don't know when or how." She blew out a sigh.
She rested her hands in the middle of his chest and rose up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. "Thanks for being understanding." When she settled back down, the sun was warm on her shoulders despite the wind.
He ran his fingers down her cheek. "Thank you for being understanding."
She shrugged. "I wanted to understand. I didn't want it to be the end of us."
"And it's not going to be, is it?" he asked hopefully.
"No, but..."
He made a face. "Just when I was starting to feel hopeful. What's the but?"
"I know that you're not who I thought you were, but I want you to tell me who you really are."
"I'm still me, still Ollie. It's just that my background's not what you thought."
"I know, but your background is a big part of who you are, just like mine is for me.
And my biggest worry now is that we might turn out to be just too different after all.
Not you and me," she added hurriedly when he started to protest. "I think you know how I feel about you.
I'm hopeful. But if we're going to run into deal-breakers down the line, we should probably figure it out now. "
He sighed and nodded. "You're right, we should. And when I tell you about my background, I'll understand if you decide to walk away."
He looked so sad that she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I already googled you, Ollie. What I'm doing here is hoping you'll give me reasons to get past it."
The waves kept rolling in, patient and endless.
~ ~ ~
Ollie finally felt safe to wrap his arm around her shoulders as they continued to walk.
He loved the beach here, loved that it was always so blustery, but there was a part of him that wanted to anchor her at his side, as if the crashing waves, the gusting wind — or worse, what he had to tell her — might carry her away from him.
"Okay, so if you already googled me, you know who my dad is. Where do you want me to start? What do you want to know?"
A strand of hair blew across her face, and her eyes seemed to shine as they looked up into his.
"I don't want to interrogate you, but I'd like to know more." She shrugged. "Whatever you want to tell me, I guess."
He tightened his arm around her, knowing that was a lot of trust to place in him after he'd spent so much time avoiding telling her what he didn't want her to know. She squeezed her arm tighter around his waist, making him smile.
"It's up to you, but tell me something."
He chuckled. "I'll tell you everything — that's easiest — but give me a clue where you want me to start."
She was quiet for a few moments before looking up at him again.
When she spoke, her question hit him right in the chest. He should have known she wouldn't ask the same kind of questions that other people did.
Most wanted to know what it was like to be the son of a famous director, whether he got to go to parties in Hollywood, whether he knew their favorite actor or actress.
But no, Callie went with, "How did you cope?
How did you and your dad cope after your mom left when you were so small? "
He shrugged. "I don't really remember her. I wasn't all that young," he added hurriedly when he saw her puzzled look. "It's just that I didn't see much of her even before she left. She was never interested in having a kid, apparently."
"Damn."
He smiled. "Don't feel sorry for me."
"How can I not? You were just a little kid. You must have been about the same age as Zia is now."
That made him chuckle. "Yeah, but I was nowhere near as bright as she is."
She laughed with him and slapped his arm. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do. And honestly, Callie, out of everything, my mom leaving was no big deal, I guess."
She frowned. "So are you and your dad close?"
He let out a short, bitter laugh. "Far from it."
"But you grew up in Napa, right? You said that you and Reaves met in kindergarten. You've known each other all your lives. Did your dad commute?"
He laughed again. "Not much, no. He came back to the estate occasionally."
She narrowed her eyes. "So, who looked after you? If your mom was gone and your dad was busy working, who...?"
The wind blew her hair wildly around her face, and he reached out to tuck a strand behind her ear.
"There was a whole string of nannies over the years, but mostly Rosa."
Her eyes widened. "She was — she's your nanny? I mean, was your nanny."
He chuckled. "No, Rosa was the cook when I was a kid. Eventually, she took on more and more responsibility until she was the one managing the entire household, including me."
"Ollie," she exclaimed, "you're not just a part of the household, you're his son."
He didn't know what to say to that. It was how he felt, too. But he was hardly going to start whining.
She shook her head sadly. "So that's why Charles thinks of you as his other son."
He grinned. "Who told you that?"
"He said so himself."
"Makes me feel good to hear that. He'll say things sometimes. Make it clear that he sees me as part of the family. But..." He turned to stare out at the ocean for a moment, the steady rhythm of the crashing waves calming his mind.
He turned back when Callie asked, "Is your dad a friend of Charles's?"
"Oh, hell no." He shook his head rapidly.
"No, that's why Dad didn't stick around in Napa — or at least part of the reason. He didn’t fit in with them.
Charles and most of the wine families come from old money.
And my dad, well, he's Hollywood money, and that's different.
My dad thought he could buy people's affection with extravagant parties and — I don't know — all that kind of thing.
He thought that buying a winery would make him fit in.
But he didn't know the first thing about wine.
And worse, he didn't even want to learn.
So no, he never fit in, and when he tired of trying, he went back to LA.
He kept the estate, but he left behind everything about the life he'd wanted to build there that didn’t work out for him. " He shrugged. "Including me."
"Oh, Ollie." She stopped walking and turned to face him, looping her arms up around his shoulders. "I'm so sorry."
He curled his arms around her, crushing her to his chest. "There's no need. I don't want you to go feeling sorry for the poor little rich boy."
She slapped his arm. "That's not what I meant."
He chuckled. "I know, but that's how it feels sometimes.
People think I have it made, you know? I own the estate.
I have more money than one person could spend in ten lifetimes.
No one to tell me what I can and can't do.
" He shrugged. "I can't really expect people to understand, but having all the money in the world doesn't make up for not having the things that money can't buy. "
"I understand that. I really do. I mean, not the having money part, but the stuff money can't buy." She nodded vigorously. "It's so much more important."
"I know."
He tugged on the end of her braid, and she tipped her chin to look up into his eyes. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds, feeling like a spotlight on the two of them, on this moment.
"What else do you want to know?"
She shrugged. "Do you see much of your dad?"
He shook his head. "I haven't seen him — or even talked to him — in at least six months. I've had a couple of texts in the last few days. He wants me to go visit."
She rolled her lips together as she nodded, and the reason she was asking dawned on him. "If you're worried that I might want to drag you down there to go to parties and premieres when we start dating, then you're safe. That's not going to happen."
She nodded slowly. "It did worry me a little. But — and I already told you I googled you, I don't mind admitting it — from everything I saw, there was no mention of you and your dad. Not since you were a little kid."
"That's because there's nothing to report on. We rarely see each other."
She frowned. "But you said you own the estate now?"
"Yeah, he gave it to me. Called it a gift, but I think it was a tax write-off."
She let out a short laugh. "Damn."
"Reaves says that I'm too hard on him. He thinks Dad wants to make it up to me, but.
.." He shook his head. "I'm not convinced.
And even if he does, it's not like there's anything to salvage.
I'm a fully grown adult now. There's no bond between us as father and son, and if he weren't my father, then I'd have no interest in knowing him, so. .." He shrugged.
The look she gave him surprised him. "What?"
"I just think that's sad."
"I used to, but I've had a lifetime to get used to it. I'm over it."
She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded slowly.
He was grateful she didn't push. He had enough of that from Reaves.
He stopped walking and turned to face her again. "I slipped something in there that you didn't catch."
She laughed. "I caught it."
"You did? Which part?"
She rolled her eyes. "You said, 'when we start dating.' Not if. When."
He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Because that's what I'm hoping."
"And I didn't say anything because that's what I want, too."
The last of that heavy feeling that had been sitting in his chest ever since he’d given her Reaves’s address instead of his own at the wedding finally dissolved. The wind gusted, and he breathed it in deep.
"You're sure?" he asked. "You can ask me whatever you like. I'll tell you anything you need to know — or want to know — before you decide."
"I've decided, Ollie, and I don't want you to think that me asking you questions was making you pass some kind of test or something. I was just curious. I'll probably have more questions. But I think we're okay for now."
"Awesome." He kissed her forehead. "So, Miss Callie Claiborne, this is me, Oliver Stratton, asking you out on our first official date. What do you say? Do you want to come to Napa? I know a few people who'll be happy to see you if you do."
His heart sank when she shook her head.
"I mean, I'll come at some point. I've told Becca I'll come for a couple of days when she and Jacob get back from their honeymoon. But, Ollie, I want our first date to be about you and me."
It made sense. "Okay, so how about I come back up here, and we'll go fly? Head up the coast. Maybe to Oregon. I'll bring a picnic. We can make a day of it."
She smiled. "I'd love that. Especially if you let me fly the plane again."
He chuckled. "You know I will. And thanks, Callie. Thanks for giving me another chance."
"I wanted to, Ollie. I wanted you to be the guy I thought you were." She smiled. "Because I like him. I like him a lot."
He grinned. "And he likes you right back." His smile faded. "Shit, I mean, I am him. I'm not talking about—"
She laughed. "It's okay. I get it. Relax."
She grabbed his hand and started walking, her fingers warm against his cold ones. He gave her a puzzled smile.
"I just want to enjoy some beach time now," she explained. "We've covered what we need to. Want to help me find some treasures?"
"Treasures?"
"Yeah, there's always something cool on the beach. Maybe sea glass. Maybe a broken shell that looks like a crescent moon for Zia. A pretty pebble." She shrugged. "I don't know what it’ll be until I spot it. But I always find something."
The tide was pulling back now, leaving the sand dark and gleaming. Bits of shell and seaweed scattered along the waterline.
Ollie fixed his gaze on the beach, determined to find a little something that she might treasure.