Chapter One #2
His voice—that easy "hey, little buddy"—did something to her she'd decided weeks ago it wasn't going to do.
She turned around slower than she needed to, mostly so her face would be arranged by the time anyone saw it.
It wasn't. Charles was already watching her, smiling like he'd read the whole thing.
And if the sound of Reaves’s voice threatened her resolve, the way he bent down to scoop Zia up and sit her on his hip threatened to cross every careful line she’d drawn around herself and her daughter.
Zia, fortunately oblivious to everything other than Reaves, wrapped her little arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"I thought you weren't coming today. Grandpa Grape made a flower arrangement, look! And Mom took a nap."
Reaves looked at the flowers before grinning at Charles. "They look good, Dad. Did you have fun?"
"We did," Charles told him. "Will you stay for dinner?"
Alara brushed her thumbs under her eyes again—hoping the smudginess was a tiny detail her loving daughter had picked up and not a full-blown raccoon mask.
She dropped her hands when Reaves turned to her. "I'd like to, if that's okay with everyone."
"Of course it's okay," Zia informed him. "We all love it when you're here. Don't we—"
Alara was grateful that Charles spoke before Zia could direct the question to her.
"We do," he said. "In fact, Zia and I were just about to venture out in search of lemonade. I think we should sit out on the terrace. Why don't the two of you go ahead? We can bring a tray, can't we, sunflower?"
Zia wriggled, and when Reaves set her down, she ran to Charles, taking his hand. "We can." She grinned at Reaves. "I'll ask Mrs. Faye if she has cookies for you."
"Z." Alara gave her a stern look, but Zia just shrugged. "Mrs. Faye likes to give out cookies to people who enjoy them. She says I'm just like Prince Daddy and Grandpa."
Alara didn't know where to look and was grateful to Charles when he chuckled. "And she's right. We all enjoy our cookies. Let's go and see if we can persuade her to give us a plateful."
~ ~ ~
Reaves watched Zia take his dad's hand and lead him out into the hallway with a big smile on his face. No matter how this all turned out, he'd be forever grateful to Alara for bringing so much joy back into this house—into his dad's life—in the shape of her daughter.
His smile faded a little as he turned back to her. He was glad that she'd accepted his help; there had been a while there when he'd feared that she wouldn't. As he met her gaze, he could only hope that the time would come when he could be grateful for so much more.
For now, all he could do was take things slowly. He had to give her space, had to wait for her to figure out not just what she could do, but what she actually wanted to do when she was finally in a position where it could be a choice and not a need.
She gave him a tentative smile and brushed her thumbs under her eyes, looking a little uncomfortable.
"I didn't think we'd see you today."
He wanted to believe that she was glad to be wrong. "Yeah. I didn't think we'd be back until late, but Willow came with us and she likes to keep the meetings short and to the point. I … you don't mind, do you?"
"Mind? No, not at all. It's… good to see you."
"You too."
She dropped her gaze, and he let it go, gesturing to the French doors. "Want to go and sit out in the sun while we wait?"
She followed him outside and sat, perching on the edge of one of the chairs at the large table. She did that a lot—sat without looking like she meant to stay for long. Or maybe that was just him, reading too much into it because, more than anything, he wanted her to stay.
She rubbed at her eyes again, and he noticed that they looked a little puffy. "Are you okay? Do you have allergies?"
Her cheeks flushed a little. "No. It's not allergies." She glanced back toward the French doors. "If you want to know the truth, I fell asleep again. I feel awful. Zia had your dad arranging flowers by the time I woke up."
"Don't feel bad. It looks to me like he enjoyed himself. You need the rest."
"I'm here to work, Reaves, not to sleep on the job while your dad babysits my daughter."
His jaw tightened. He wished she could just relax and accept it but knew she wouldn't. "The work can wait. That was the whole point of you coming here, remember?"
She looked away, but he pushed on; he had to keep trying.
"I know you feel like you owe something, but you don't, Alara, honestly.
Ollie only offered to employ you because he knew there was no way that you'd accept money directly.
All anyone wants is for you to get better.
" He met her gaze. "And you can't do that until you finally see a doctor.
We need to find out what's going on with you before we can figure out how to fix it. "
He could see the tension in her shoulders as he spoke. When he finished, he waited, expecting her usual list of excuses about how she was waiting until the health insurance kicked in and how in the meantime she wanted to work. This time, though, the excuses didn't come.
Her shoulders sagged. "I know. You're right. And … I called the insurance this morning. I'm good to go now."
He sat up straighter. "Have you made an appointment? Do you want me to take you?"
She shook her head rapidly. "I can go by myself. It's kind of you but …"
"I'm not trying to be kind, Alara. I care; you know that. And I don't want to put any pressure on you, but I'm worried sick about you—we all are. The headaches, the fatigue, all of it. There's something going on with you and the sooner we find out what it is, the sooner we can get you well again."
She stared at him.
"What?"
"You're such a good guy."
He let out a short laugh. "Thanks. But it's …" She was right, he wouldn't deny it, all his life he'd been the good guy, the decent, stand-up one. He'd care about anyone in her situation, but this was more than that—he cared about her.
"You think of me as a friend, right?"
She nodded.
"And don't you think it'd be good to have a friend with you when you finally see a doctor?"
Her nod was more reluctant this time.
"So, if you don't want me to go with you, should we call Callie, see if she can?"
She pursed her lips.
He smiled.
"Or if you don't want to put her out, you could just let me take you, since I'm here anyway. Zia can stay with Dad and …"
"I haven't even made the appointment yet, Reaves."
"I know, but you could call now. Do you have the number?"
She inhaled deeply.
"You might as well do it. Just think how much easier your life will be without everyone pestering you about whether you've seen a doctor and what you think might be wrong.
You'll be able to say that, yes, you have and tell them that you're being treated, and you’ll be back to full strength in no time. "
He was doing his best to talk her up, but the look that crossed her face—the flash of fear—landed like a punch to his gut. She was afraid of what the doctor might say.