Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tate straightened his tie, assumed the calmest, coolest air he could summon, and strode toward his mother’s office.
The door was closed. He wasn’t surprised.
He gave her assistant, Kat his warmest smile.
“Is Ms. Foster in?” He was on her turf, so he’d follow her rules of formality regardless of the unprofessional way she was approaching their relationship.
“Hey.” Kat’s neutral expression shifted to warm and open when she saw him. “I’d let you in if I could, but she’ll be on calls on and off most of the morning. I’ll tell her you stopped by. Ping you if she pokes her head out for more than a few seconds.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He let just enough of his drawl slide in to sound polite. “You know what? I’ll just hang out for a couple minutes, if that’s all right. See if she frees up before the top of the hour?”
“Stay as long as you’d like.” Kat’s smile grew. “I’ll send her a message and let her know you’re out here.”
He covered her hand. “Don’t worry about that. I’d hate to make her hurry just to see me. I’ll just hang out for a little while.”
“Tate.” A familiar baritone snapped through the friendly facade.
Tate ground his teeth at the sound of his father’s voice, but managed to keep most of the reaction from his voice.
He whirled to face the older man. “Mr. Foster.” Calling him Dad in public wasn’t the same taboo as referring to his mother so informally, but Tate was already in that business frame of mind.
“Can it.” Ben nodded toward his office at the other end of the hall. “Let’s talk.”
It wasn’t the conversation Tate wanted to have, but it might do. He followed, keeping his mouth shut until the door closed them off from the rest of the world. He didn’t bother with sitting. “Do you have any idea what she did?” That wasn’t how he’d meant to open this conversation.
“I know what she didn’t do.” Ben took his seat, and leaned back in his chair. “And that’s shut down the shelter’s crowd-funding site.”
Shock filled Tate. “You? Why?”
“You made this personal; I made an executive decision. This may be your spin-off, but ultimately it still falls under the Skriddie label. Think of it as an investor getting involved.”
“This isn’t just about business.” Tate didn’t have to bullshit here, or play sweet. That was one thing he appreciated about his father. “You know what happens to that place if they can’t raise the capital they need.”
“It is about business. Her business is dealing with bad media. Our business is dealing with bad media for entirely different reasons. If we’re seen supporting her business, ours looks worse.”
Tate understood the logic. He hated himself for it, but he got it. That didn’t mean he agreed. “So this is all about the bottom line.”
“Yes.” Ben leaned forward, fingers clasped and arms resting on his desk.
“Look. I don’t care what you’ve got going on with Alyssia Tippins.
Whether it’s something, or nothing, or falls somewhere in the middle.
That’s between you and her, and despite what your mother thinks, there’s no reason to marry you to a senator’s daughter who isn’t even old enough to drink. ”
Tate bit the inside of his cheek to keep a retort from slipping out. He was curious to know where this was going.
“But that’s personal, this is business. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t understand my decision.”
“I get it. But I still don’t agree. This isn’t just about return on investment.”
“That’s exactly what it’s about.” A sharp crack lined Ben’s words. “We’re not a charity. The things we do, we do to make money.”
Tate didn’t have a retort. He knew he couldn’t win, but he wasn’t willing to back down or give up. “I won’t be in the office the rest of the day.”
“Fine.” Ben turned to his computer, indicating he felt the conversation was over. “Get this out of your system. When you’re back tomorrow, I expect business as usual from you.”
Tate was already reaching for his phone as he stormed from the office. He didn’t have a plan, or even the inklings of one, and he wasn’t going to find the answers here.
A text message from Lys waited for him. How’d it go?
What the fuck was he going to tell her? He shoved the device back in his pocket, and headed for his car. He’d figure it out.
* * *
Alyssia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Every time she drifted toward sleep, horrible images flashed in her mind, muddled with a lack of solutions, and the creeping dread that she didn’t have a way out of this problem.
She rolled onto her side, and her gaze fell on her cell phone.
She would have heard if it had gone off, but that didn’t stop her from clicking the button to see if she’d missed any calls or texts.
Nothing.
“Damn it, Tate.” Talking to the empty room was better than being alone with her thoughts. He was supposed to keep her updated. He’d been so kind last night, and she knew that man was still in there. She also couldn’t shake the feeling he was falling into old patterns.
Sleep wasn’t going to happen. She climbed from bed, and pulled on some clothes. Maybe she’d have lunch with Jared, use that as an excuse to surprise Tate. That was a stupid idea. She wasn’t being that girl anymore. Jared… Something clicked in her thoughts, chinking and whirring.
She knew what to do, but she couldn’t do it alone. She grabbed her phone and dialed.
“This is Mikki.”
A sliver of progress wormed its way into Alyssia’s thoughts. This would work. “Hey, it’s me. I need a huge, huge favor, and then maybe you can transfer me to Tate?”
“Like, the exciting, get into trouble kind of favor?” Mikki asked.
“Probably not. But it’s a challenging kind of thing, and I can’t pay you.”
“Then yes. But no to the second thing. Tate’s not in today.”
Alyssia suppressed her disappointment—and that was all it was.
No irritation mingled with the feeling. “Tate told me when he set up this whole crowdfunding thing that he rented Skriddie servers because he didn’t have the people to build him a setup.
” The way he’d phrased it, it sounded like he couldn’t find the talent.
He’d slipped a few times though, that hiring that kind of skill wasn’t in his budget.
He’d even placed the hardware orders before his investors—she’d taken that to mean his mother—pulled their funding on the IT budget.
He’d sworn he would set it all up once they had the capital.
“I don’t even know if I’m saying this right.
How long would it take you to setup and configure an entire server array for the crowdfunding sites. ”
Mikki laughed. “Me, personally? Thirty hours. Maybe twenty.”
“So, asking you to do this means you’d be giving up your evenings for a week or two.” Alyssia couldn’t do that. “Never mind.”
“What are you kidding? I’m totally in. Hell, I have a friend or two back in Utah who will help.”
“Are you sure?”
“I might ask you to chip in on Mt. Dew funds. But yes, one hundred percent. Tell me what we’re doing.”
Alyssia spent the next half hour laying out her idea, and making sure Mikki had all the right information, before thanking her future sister-in-law, and disconnecting.
Tate still hadn’t answered her messages. She wasn’t going to waste a phone call on this; it was a conversation that needed to happen in person. She headed to her car, pulled onto the road, and pointed it in the familiar direction.
Her determination wavered when she drew within sight of his driveway, and confirmed his car was there. Maybe he was just home sick, or sleeping off too many long nights. She should wait for him to return her messages.
She summoned her resolve, and parked her car next to his.
No backing down. It was his decision if he was going to be a part of this or not, but he was going to tell her to her face, and she wasn’t going to let him wrap it in excuses and faulty logic.
She rang the bell, and waited, toes tapping inside her shoes.
The door jerked open more quickly than she expected, and she jumped. Tate stood there, shadows under his eyes, in a battered T-shirt and jeans, and a tired smile. “Hey. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
He looked good, even exhausted. Concentrate. Remember the plan. Get him to sign on, or walk away. She repeated the words in her head. “I should be. I couldn’t. Can we talk?”
“Absolutely.” He stepped aside, and gestured toward the couch.
She hovered near the entryway. No sitting until she had a better idea of how this was going. “Did you get answers this morning?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. It’s under control. I’ve got plan—”
“I am worried about it.” She crossed her arms. “Do you remember yesterday afternoon? You don’t get to have plans about my business without my input.”
He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. That’s not what this is. This impacts my entire startup. I need to take care of it.”
“Tate.” She couldn’t keep the frustration from her voice.
“No. You don’t. Is this a lack of respect?
Do you not take me seriously? Maybe you think your friends are only there when you’re the one taking care of them?
” The words hurt, tugging at insecurities she hated to acknowledge.
But she was so tired of dancing around everything when it came to him.
“No. Not at all.” He reached for her, then dropped his hand. “I swear, that’s so very far from the truth. I have so much respect for you. For everything you do. I’ve never met a stronger person. The things you see, every day, and the fact you still fight for something so good?”
His words flowed through her head and heart, warming her in a way she didn’t want. What if it was just lip service? “Then what are we doing? You don’t have to take care of everything on your own. You help me, and I do the same for you. It’s who we are.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair.
“I want you to be happy. I want those animals to be safe. I desperately want to tell you I love you. To write you a check, to make this all go away, to move on so you don’t have to deal with it.
Not because you’re incapable, but because no human being should have to put up with this shit, especially you. ”
She struggled to keep up with the conversation, but her mind was stuck on three words, skipping back to them. Replaying them over and over in her mind. “Did you just say…?” She couldn’t force the question out. Already, her thoughts were working to convince her she’d imagined it.
“I did.” He cupped her cheek, and her pulse threatened to burst through her heart. “I love you, Lys. For as long as I can remember. I’ve just never felt like I could give you what you needed. I still can’t.”
She pushed him back, anger and confusion mingling with the relief of the revelation. “You fucking asshole. What the hell is wrong with you? I don’t even understand why you think you can’t give me what I’m looking for.”
He clenched his jaw, then dragged in a shaky breath before replying. “Can you really picture me being tied down?”
“I can and I do. You’re already anchored here.
Maybe it’s easier to think that’s me being delusional, and seeing things that aren’t there.
But you just admitted it. You’re as tied to me as I am to you.
You don’t get to make a confession like I love you, and wrap it in a bullshit line like ‘I know what’s good for you, and it’s not me.
’ You don’t get to dump that on me and in the same breath remove my right to tell you I feel the same.
“In fact, I’m tired of you making all sorts of these decisions without my input.
Faking that first donation on my website?
Okay, I convinced myself you hadn’t actually done that.
Loaning Jared the money years ago, so he could tell me it came from him, when I bought the shelter?
I pretended I didn’t know you’d done that.
” Her words spilled out, surprising her.
How did she know that? But the look on Tate’s face told her she was right.
He’d been there the entire time, making sure she succeeded.
Helping. Finding ways to keep her from turning him down.
He shrugged. “This is your dream, and it’s a good one. You won’t take the money from me.”
She hadn’t wanted to approach things this way. Especially not with Tate’s confession—wonderful, amazing, infuriating as it may be—hanging between them. But she was laying it all on the line. “I will now.” Wow, that was harder to say than she’d expected.
“What?”
She shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them from shaking. “I need a loan, Tate. Enough to move forward and make this shelter grow.” Now that the words were tumbling out, it was easier. “But I need more than that.”
“Of course.” His shoulders relaxed, and the lines faded from his forehead. “Whatever you need.”
She shook her head. “It’s not about me. You need to make this idea take off.
What you can do for companies like mine?
It’s important. These sites of yours can make a big difference and you’re doing it right.
So we’re going to make sure your idea takes off.
You, me, Mikki, and she’s even going to pull in her friends.
We keep failing miserably when it comes down to what I need, or what you want to do.
This is about us.” She hadn’t meant it that way. But she liked the way it sounded.
“Slow down. I think I missed a few steps.”
“Right. Sorry.” She paused, dragging her thoughts together.
“Everything that you’ve struggled with since you tried to launch these crowd funding sites—or at least a lot of it—goes away if you have your own hardware.
You’ve said you don’t have the manpower, but you have technical knowledge, and I found you people who will work for free.
You do that, you keep my donation site online, and I’ll make sure my expansion happens. ”
“You’ve thought this out. Thank you for that.”
She felt better than she had in weeks, but she wasn’t done yet. “And Tate?”
He met her gaze, eyes widened in question.
She stepped in. “I love you, too.”
He grinned, and rested his hands at the small of her back.
She pushed him back playfully. “And if you ever pull this ‘I know what’s best for you’ bullshit on me again, we’re going to have problems.”
He grabbed her wrists, and pulled her in.
“Yes ma’am.” He cupped the back of her head, and crushed his lips to hers.
Hunger, need, and security surged through her and she pressed back.
She wasn’t sure if their new plan was any better than any of the old ones, but this—what she had with Tate—was the one thing she wasn’t worried about.