Chapter 45
DEXTER
Wednesday. Late October. Two days before the presentation.
“Thank fuckin’ God, we’re finally finished.” Keith collapses on the couch by the window in my office.
“Financials are solid. I ran them again this morning,” Reed says from the chair opposite me. “Projections hold even if they push back. If they have half a brain, they’ll sign.”
Good. That’s what I like to hear.
We’ve put in the time to address every last-minute change Sullivan requested. Every revision is in. The pitch is crisp, focused, thirty minutes start to finish. We’re as ready as we can be. Friday, we deliver.
Same day Holly leaves.
I’ve accepted it. Doesn’t mean I’m okay with it. Doesn’t mean her choice doesn’t gut me.
Two more days. There’s no stopping it now, ready or not. It feels like watching a ship take on water. Slow at first. Then faster. And I’m standing there with no solution. Not even a lifeboat to offer. And that’s what kills me.
I grab my phone and find her name.
She wouldn’t ask me to give up everything I’ve worked for. I won’t ask it of her. She’s chasing her dream, just like I am.
But I want to see her before she gets on that plane. I press Call. All she can say is no.
She picks up, and says she’s got a doctor’s appointment in an hour.
“Can I come?” I ask and add, “We could grab food after. I’d like to see you before you leave.”
There’s a long pause, but somehow, she says yes.
We end the call, and I check my watch.
It’s close to three.
“We’re done here,” I announce.
I shift my attention back to the guys. Reed stops what he’s doing. Keith is watching me from the couch like I grew a second head.
I stand, stretch, and feel a familiar crack in my back. Hours in this chair haven’t helped.
“Guess that’s a wrap.” Reed snaps his laptop shut with a click, already on his feet. “How about a ride tonight to clear the head?”
“Can’t. I’ve got plans with Holly.”
“All right.” Reed grabs his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”
He leaves, but Keith stays put, staring at me from across the room, still sprawled on my couch, his fingers on the scattered fabric samples I’ve left sitting there, the way she left them.
“Holly is leavin’ Friday?” he asks once we’re alone. “Are ye messin’ with me? Of course, it would have to be the day of the presentation!”
The thought crossed my mind: Call Swan, move the pitch.
Given the history, the irony would be hilarious.
I don’t entertain it for long. Sure, it would have been nice to clink apple juice glasses after we closed, share the win, celebrate together.
But after Swan moved the pitch again and again, I was the one who warned her not to lock anything in.
Besides, time isn’t the problem here.
“Yeah, I know,” I tell Keith. “Last plane ticket available. The force of destiny or some such shit. I’ll drop her off at the airport and then meet you guys at Swan’s.”
“So, she really is still leavin’?” His brow furrows. “You’re not goin’ to stop her?”
“No.” I start gathering my stuff.
“Wow,” Keith says, putting the samples back down. “Never seen the two of ye apart. Still, fair play to her, ya know? Movin’ to another country, startin’ somethin’ new? That takes fierce guts.”
“Holly’s always had guts.”
He nods and tilts his head. “Right so, but... when are you goin’ to tell her?”
“Tell her what?”
“That you love her.”
I shoot him a dark look before opening the drawer for my keys. “I told her.”
“Tell her again. Every damn day for donkey’s years until she takes it to heart. And don’t half-arse it.”
I shut the drawer harder than needed. Keith usually knows when to leave shit alone. Lately he’s been testing that line, and I don’t like it. “Enough, Keith.”
“Boss, c’mon. Who do ya think you’re talkin’ to?”
“My employee. Who’s dangerously close to getting fired.”
He grins. “Nah. Fair play to ya. Over the last few years, you’ve kept me around through much worse shite.”
“I’m starting to question my judgment.”
“Don’t. First, I’m charmin’. Second, I’m the best architect you’ve got, and third, nobody gives better advice than me. Ya’d feel way too guilty if ya fired me.” He sighs dramatically for effect. “What would I do for work? Where would I go?”
“Guilt is not one of my primary emotions. Besides, you’ll be just fine.”
“Fair enough. But back to what I was sayin’.
Well, since you’re both stubborn as old donkeys, we’re goin’ big.
Our Holly’s obsessed with that feckin’ Titanic film, isn’t she?
So you’re gonna get yourself down to the docks, buy the biggest yacht you can find, and recreate that whole ‘king of the world’ scene.
Then when she’s all swoony, you beg her not to get on that plane to London.
Trust me, boss. Every bird is terribly into those grand romantic moments. ”
“Holly gets seasick.”
“Ah. Right then.” He drums his fingers on the couch, then snaps them. “I’ve got it. You know that scene where Jack draws Rose? The ‘draw me like one of your French girls’ bit?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Not that part, ye dirty-minded eejit!” Keith laughs. “The bit right before. Where he gets down on his knees to sketch her. Very romantic, very gallant. That’s what you’re gonna do.”
“You want me to propose?”
“God no. Just the knee. Look her in the eye like a man who knows he’s about to lose the best thing in his life and say, ‘For feck’s sake, woman, I love ya. Don’t go.’ Then she cries. You cry. You kiss. Bam. More babies.”
“I fucking tried,” I snap, pulling on my jacket. “I fucking made my move. I said what needed saying. I’m done forcing anything.”
I don’t regret telling her, not in the least.
I’d been willing to take the risk.
Willing to go down with this ship. We’d reached the point where it couldn’t stay unsaid. I had to lay it all on the line.
Keith is quiet for a second, watching me straighten my collar and tug my shirtsleeves down. “Listen, I’ve pissed off more women than I care to count… a bewildering number, I can’t rightly believe it meself. The ones who wanted my blood? They were the ones who cared the most.”
“She’s leaving, Keith.” I grab my phone off the desk and check the time. “That tells me everything I need to know.”
Keith heaves himself off the couch, shaking his head, but pauses in the doorway.
“I just don’t want ya to regret anythin’, Dexter.
You haven’t cried since your da died, you sittin’ there in that hospital, countin’ breaths, unable to stop the water in his lungs.
” He swallows hard, clears his throat, and carries on, voice not quite holding.
“That’s why that movie never sits right with ya, I reckon.
But I see it in your face now. I see the pain written on ya.
A man can lose someone and spend the rest of his life refusin’ to chance it again.
Don’t be that fella. Life’s long without a hand in yours.
Yourself and Holly were made for each other. Whether ye know it or not.”
Then he’s off.
I stand there, alone, turning his words over, feeling sick to my stomach. I lower myself back into the chair. My chest burns, but I know my brother didn’t throw that to cut me open. I know that.
My phone pings with a reminder.
I force the air back into my lungs.
I check the time, lock my office, and head out.