Chapter Twelve
CARTER
My phone buzzed insistently on the table as I sat across from Giselle, or was it Gabrielle?
Her perfectly manicured nails tapped against the stem of her wine glass.
I ignored the incoming call—the third of the night from my father—and studied the face of the woman across from me.
She was objectively stunning. Tall, blonde, legs for days.
The kind of woman who turned heads when she walked into a room.
And I couldn't have been less interested.
Her lips moved, forming words I should've been hanging onto. Something about her sister's destination wedding in Bali. Or it might’ve been her cousin.
“That sounds fascinating,” I lied, taking a sip of my bourbon.
My mind strayed to Olivia. It'd been my sincere hope that a date and a no strings fuck would take my mind off her.
I was wrong.
“Carter? Are you even listening to me?”
I snapped back to attention, guilt twisting in my gut. “Of course. You were saying...”
But as she launched into another story, I thought about Olivia's smile. How she'd looked today, bent over her desk, devouring a family-size bag of strawberry Twizzlers as she concentrated on some task I'd given her.
Christ. What's wrong with me?
I'd agreed to this date to prove to myself that I could still do casual. That I wasn't getting in too deep with my assistant, of all people. But sitting here now, all I wanted was to be back at the office, trading barbs with Olivia over late-night takeout while we pored over blueprints.
“You seem distracted,” my date said, frowning. “Is everything okay?”
I forced a smile. “Just work on my mind. You know how it is.”
She nodded, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. I was being an ass. This woman deserved better than to be an unwitting pawn in my emotional crisis.
“Listen,” I said, setting down my glass. “I think I should call it a night. I'm not in the right headspace for this.”
“For dinner? In that case, perhaps we should just go back to your place.”
“I'm sorry, what?”
She leaned in, her perfume cloying. “I said, why don't we continue this at your place?” Her fingers trailed up my arm. “I'd love to see the view.”
The invitation hung in the air. A week ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. Hell, I probably would've had her pressed up against the wall of my bedroom by now.
But tonight? The thought left me cold.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said, gently removing her hand. “But I don't think that's a good idea.”
She frowned. “Why not? I thought we were having a good time.”
Were we?
My phone vibrated again, this time with a text.
DAD
Carter, please call me back. It's important.
A weary sigh escaped my lips. “Look, you're beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to go home with you tonight. But I'm not that guy.”
“Is there someone else?”
I thought of Olivia. Her warm brown eyes, that infectious laugh, the way she chewed her lip when she was concentrating.
“Yes,” I admitted, more to myself than to her. “I think there is.”
The realization hit me like a meteor. I didn't want this woman, or any other woman for that matter. I wanted Olivia. Only Olivia.
Fuck.
“I'm sorry,” I said, standing up. “I shouldn't have wasted your time tonight. Let me call you a cab.”
As I waited for her ride, the full impact of my epiphany settled over me. I was falling for my assistant. Despite promising myself I'd never put myself in such a vulnerable and compromising position. A position in which I could lose someone who meant the world to me—again.
I should call my dad. Another of his tough-love conversations may be just what I needed.
* * *
I sat down in Olivia's chair to return my dad's call.
“Hey, Son. Thanks for calling me back.”
“Sorry it's so late. I was on a date.” I leaned back in the chair, fiddling with the framed picture of Pete Olivia kept on her desk.
“No problem at all. I was just watching highlights from the Reds game. Did you see that grand slam from Candelario against the Mets?”
I set the frame back on the desk. “Nah, I missed it. You said you had something important to talk about?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I pictured Dad sitting in his recliner, rubbing his forehead as he tried to find the right words.
“Well, tomorrow's the anniversary of your mom's death.”
My chest tightened. “I'm aware.”
“Was wondering if you wanted to go visit her with me.”
The ache in my chest deepened. She'd been gone seventeen years, but the wound was still fresh. Raw.
Dad and I hadn't seen each other since last year's anniversary. But he was trying, so I guessed I should too.
“Sure, Dad. We can do that. I can meet you there around four if that works.”
“Sounds good, kid.”
I hung up the phone, heavy gloom settling over me. Seventeen years. Seventeen birthdays and holidays without her gentle smile, warm hugs, and unwavering love. The ache never fully subsided. It was a constant companion that ebbed and flowed like the tide.
Rising from Olivia's chair, I walked over to the window, gazing toward the downtown skyline. The lights twinkled against the inky black sky. How different would my life be if she were still here? Would I have learned to open my heart, to let people in, to love without fear?
Olivia had a way of making me feel seen, understood, even when I tried my hardest to push her away. But the idea of letting her get close, of exposing the scars and vulnerabilities I kept hidden, terrified me.
I clenched my jaw and turned away from the window. Letting my guard down wasn’t an option, not even for Olivia. The risk of losing someone else, of enduring that pain again, was too great. I had to keep my distance, no matter what my heart wanted.
* * *
I arrived at the cemetery and spotted my father's truck already parked near the entrance. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and stepped out of the car.
The gravel crunched under my feet as I trudged down the familiar path. Dad stood by Mom's headstone, his shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets. As I approached, he turned, offering a weak smile.
“Hey, Son.”
“Hey, Dad.”
We stood for a while without speaking, the weight of seventeen years pressing down on us. I kneeled to brush away some leaves that had collected on the granite surface.
“I brought her favorites.” Dad gestured toward a small bouquet of sunflowers.
I nodded, my throat tight. “She always loved those.”
As we arranged the flowers, memories flooded back. Mom's carefree giggle, the way she'd dance around the kitchen while making breakfast, her fierce hugs that convinced me I could conquer the world.
“She'd be proud of you, Carter. The man you've become, the work you're doing.”
“I hope so.”
We fell into silence again, each lost in our own thoughts. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cemetery grounds.
I watched Dad's weathered hands move to the chain around his neck, his fingers absently tracing the outline of Mom's engagement ring hidden beneath his shirt.
Most of the time, I tried not to think about the depth of his grief. He'd never remarried, never even dated as far as I knew. Mom had been it for him, his one great love.
“You still wear it,” I said, nodding toward the chain.
He smiled sadly. “Always.”
“I miss her,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dad nodded, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. “Me too, son. Every damn day.”
I stared at Mom's headstone, my eyes tracing the familiar curves of her name, and a memory floated to the surface of my mind.
Mom was having a good day, so I decided to hang back while my friends went camping in Mel’s backyard. It was summer; there’d be plenty of other opportunities to camp. But I never knew when Mom would have another good day.
“Wanna watch a movie?” I asked her.
“Sure, sweetie! I’ll make popcorn.”
I pulled up HBO and picked some cheesy romcom that I was sure she’d love.
Thirty minutes in and she was already blubbering. She sniffled before blowing her nose. “Carter, my sweet boy, don't ever be afraid to love with your whole heart.”
I tried not to laugh at her. She was so ridiculous, crying over a damn movie. But I grinned. “Sure thing, Mom.”
“I’m serious. Someday, you’ll meet the love of your life, and I don’t want you to be a big dummy like your dad was!”
“How was he a dummy?”
“Oh, he thought it would be best to ignore me.”
“He was thirteen!”
“Well, I set him straight. If you’re anything like that stubborn ass, I hope your person is a ball-buster. She’ll have to be.”
The memory made me think of Olivia, of the swooping sensation in my stomach whenever she smiled, the way my heart raced when she was near.
The way she did indeed bust my balls. And I thought of the fear that kept me from letting her in.
I swallowed hard, fighting the painful lump in my throat. “Dad?”
He looked up, eyebrows raised.
“Do you...do you ever regret it? Loving Mom so completely, knowing how much it would hurt to lose her?”
Dad's shoulders rose and fell as he took a long breath. “It was hard at first. I was angry. But, no. Not for a second, Son. Your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me. The pain of losing her, it's excruciating. But I wouldn't trade a moment of our time together to avoid it.”
We stood in silence, the setting sun painting the sky orange and pink. As darkness began to fall, Dad cleared his throat.
“You know, your mom always said you had a big heart. Said it was your greatest strength and your greatest weakness.”
I looked at him, surprised. He'd never mentioned this before.
“What do you think she meant by that?”
Dad shrugged, his eyes fixed on the headstone. “I think she knew you'd feel things deeply. Love fiercely. But she also worried you might close yourself off to protect that big heart of yours.”
The words were a hammer blow. That was exactly what I had done, and my mother had predicted it long before now.