Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
FORGIVENESS
Jules
“This isn’t working.” Omar is naked but for his apron, on the phone, pacing in front of the stove. “Send me more resumes. But if the next batch is anything like these, we’re going to have to hire an executive search firm.”
I drop the post I collected on my way in and hop on a stool to admire his broad, muscular back and his delicious ass.
He pauses with his hand speared through his hair and his body bristled with annoyance as he listens intently. “It will take as long as it needs to take, Sam. I’m not rushing it or settling. I want the right person this time.”
He turns toward me and holds his hand up as if to beg my patience and mouths, I’m sorry.
“It’s fine,” I whisper. He’s been on the phone incessantly this week speaking with candidates his HR team has identified to fill his soon-to-be vacant CEO role. It’s been a disaster from the start.
He kept insisting he was glad his father is stepping down. But then my man of action dragged his feet for a month before he finally approved the job posting. After another month of intensive searching, the first batch of candidates have all been disqualified. “Fine, that’s your call to make. Just send me people who are actually viable. I’ll call you on Monday.” He hangs up and slips his phone into the front pocket of his jeans. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. Is everything okay?“
“Yeah. I don’t understand why this feels so hard. I’m glad he’s leaving. But I don’t want to replace him with someone who’s not prepared to lead us in a similar manner. So far, not one of them has his breadth of experience.”
“Maybe you should ask him to stay.”
“Never.” He scoffs and grabs a carton of eggs, a block of butter, and a small bag of shredded cheese from the fridge. “You don’t know what they’re like.”
“I know you miss them. I know you need to forgive your dad.”
“Jules, I can’t. I just can’t.”
I move around the island to stand behind him, wrap my arms around his waist, and press a kiss to his muscular back. “You won’t forgive him.”
“He doesn’t deserve it.” He tenses in my hold but lays his hands over mine to hold me to him.
As if I’d ever willingly let go. “But you do, babe. And hiding in London isn’t going to help you mend things.”
He lets go and turns around to face me, his expression clouded by hurt and annoyance. “I’m not hiding.”
“Okay, procrastinating then.” He exhales harshly through his nose and turns back to his cutting board.
“I know you’re angry with your father, but I promise that you will regret it forever if you don’t find a way to mend that fence.”
The knife lands on the counter with a loud clatter, and he turns to face me again. His hands are propped on the counter behind him, his eyes clouded by the unrest in his soul.
“I know. I know, Jules. He spent his whole life teaching me that when people showed you who they are, you should believe them. Well, he showed me that he’s a liar.”
I wince at the intractable anger in his voice. “Yes, after he raised you and loved you and supported you and sacrificed for you.”
“But he acts like it’s nothing. And he’s waiting for me to apologize.”
“And so you’re going to do the same? Like for like? Is that who you are, my love?” I gentle my voice, taking all accusation out of it. I’m not moving a mountain, I’m stroking a bruised heart.
“I know it’s hard, but everything worth having is hard.” I step into his large body and offer mine as safe harbor. I wrap my arms around him, hooking my hands on his shoulders, and he sags against me.
God, I love him. Strong and vulnerable at the same time, he’s got the kindest heart of almost anyone I’ve ever met. “Just think about it. That’s all.”
The muscles in his back bunch and flex. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you don’t want me to stay.”
“Don’t be silly.” I poke his back. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Well, right now, being with you makes me happy.”
My heart falls a little. I know he loves me and wants to be with me. I also think he’s making that decision from a place of hurt and anger.
And he’s right. I don’t want him to stay. Since that video he posted last week went viral, waves have been forming on my horizon. Not minuscule ones that lap gently at the shores of my existence, taking small pieces of it every time. But ones large enough to wipe it all away. I’ve ignored the calls from an unknown number all week. But I’m not foolish enough to think that will stop him.
We’ve been on an inevitable course with the iceberg hiding below the tip of the truth he’s unwittingly spoken. The anchor I dropped to hold us in place is showing its first sign of fatigue. Or at least the first I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge. I’m leaving on my first business trip tomorrow, and I’ll be gone for three days. I hope the distance will give him some perspective and make it easier for him to imagine spending time apart while he goes to see his family.
“It’s late.” He dumps the entire cutting board into the sink. “I thought you were cooking dinner.”
He frowns. “Nah. I’ll go get a takeaway. You’ll be gone for days, and I’d rather not spend the night cooking and cleaning up.” He drops a quick, absent kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I’ll be back.” He unties his apron and strides out of the room.