Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
NATHAN
N ate’s teeth clenched as he read the text message from his father, a mix of resignation and irritation spiraling through him. Their fragile relationship teetered precariously on the edge of a steep cliff after his past actions.
He furrowed his brow as he considered answering it, not certain what he would say. But ignoring it would be worse. Ignoring it could cause ripples he didn’t want to deal with.
His jaw worked overtime, pulsing as he read the message over and over again. Today wasn’t the day he needed this message.
He rubbed at his chin, ready to bolt from the coffee shop for the nearest bar. He slid his eyes closed before he opened them again and read the message. How are you doing today? If you need to talk about Chloe, I’m here.
That name felt like a punch to the gut, reopening a wound he’d desperately tried to close. Chloe . He’d never wanted to see that name again. Never wanted to hear it or think of it. He’d thought he’d hit rock bottom when his parents had set up the intervention, but he now felt like he could fall even further than waking up drunk in an alley.
He resisted the urge to type back that he was fine, which would likely trigger a call to assess how fine he really was, but he had no desire to answer truthfully. He didn’t even know what the truth was. He hated the woman. But how he was doing? Still torn up over what she had done and still reeling from the fallout of everything he’d done leading up to that to alienate his family. A family that had come together when he’d truly needed them.
He finally typed a response. Getting through the day .
No sooner had he sent it than a reply came back, pressing for details. How exactly?
He hated this. He hated being treated like a child, but he hadn’t earned much better. He typed a message as the line in the coffee shop moved up. I’m not drinking .
“Yet,” he muttered under his breath as he leaned to glance at how many people were still in front of him for a simple cup of coffee.
Five people waited to order. His shoulders slumped as he shifted his weight, his agitation growing. He needed a drink. Just one to take the edge off.
He shoved his phone into his pocket as it chimed with the latest message from his father and spun on his heel. As he took a step, he smashed into someone. Liquid spattered on the floor, splashing onto his shoes as a cry sounded.
His jaw unhinged as he lifted his eyes to the woman he’d nearly run over. She stared down at the smashed cup in her hand, a look of disbelief etched into her delicate features. She flicked a lock of dark hair away from the stain growing on her blouse.
A surge of frustration gave way to curiosity. Her dark hair contrasted sharply with her pale skin.
“Oh,” Nathan said as he tugged his lips back in a wince. “Oh my gosh, I am sorry. Oh, I’m really sorry.”
She fluttered her eyelashes as she glanced up at him, flicking her pinky at the spot. “It’s quite all right,” she said in a crisp British accent.
“Here, let me help,” he said as he grabbed a wad of napkins from the dispenser on the counter next to them.
She did the same but he pressed his against her first, swiping down the front of her shirt with the napkins.
“Oh, no, really, I’ve got it.” She waved a hand at him.
“No, no, I insist. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. I just…I’m having a really bad day and–”
“No, really, I’ve got it,” she repeated.
He continued to dab at her blouse, soaking the thin brown napkins.
“Stop, stop,” she said with a shake of her head. “Please stop. You’re making it worse, you see?”
“Oh,” he answered, his features crinkling as he noted the now larger stain on the shirt. “I am, aren’t I?”
She let out a half-chuckle. “Yes, I don’t understand how you’re managing it, but you are actively making it worse.”
“I have a talent for that,” he said, a light laugh in his voice. “Actively making things worse, that is.”
She flicked her green eyes up to him, a slight smile on her doll-like lips. He’d never seen such beautiful eyes before. They were…captivating. “Well, best you stop dabbing at my blouse then.”
“Ah, yes,” he said with a nod as he wadded the napkins into a ball and tossed them in the garbage bin. “Well, let me pay for the cleaning at least.”
“No,” she said as she continued to wipe at the liquid. “That’s not necessary.”
“Please, it’s the least I can do.”
“It’s really not necessary,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Uh, please. I have to do something. I feel awful.” He held a finger in the air before he pulled his blazer off and slid it around her shoulders. “Here, take my jacket.”
She glanced at it before she flicked those sparkling emerald eyes back to his face. “It’s really quite all right. I don’t–”
“Please. You’re soaked and–”
“It’s quite warm outside, though. And if I take your blazer, I’ll need to return it, and–”
“Well, uh, we could meet. I could take you to dinner. As an apology.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.
She cocked her head as she knitted her dark eyebrows. “You mean, allow you to take me to a place where you’d be around cutlery? I’m terrified to think of what may happen. You may filet me like a fish.”
The playful smile on her features brought a grin to his face. Any thoughts of a drink were replaced by the enchanting, warm feeling he got from her. But while his heart fluttered, his mind warned him. Don’t be too trusting. You’ve been burned.
But her playful banter was unexpectedly disarming.
“Well, uh, perhaps … a hot dog in the park. No silverware.” He grinned at her.
“A hot dog?” she asked. “You mean from one of those little carts with the fellows wearing the caps?”
He chuckled at her. “Yes, yes, that’s right.”
Her smile grew slightly as she nodded. “All right, then. If no cutlery is involved, I suppose I shall be quite safe. When?”
“Uh, how is this evening? Say five?” He recalled a peaceful spot where he’d often found solace in the last year. “ The vendor near the fountain in Mariner’s Park. That’ll give you enough time to change and have no further need for my blazer.”
She adjusted it around her shoulders as she nodded. “All right. Oh, uh, what is your typical condiment of choice?”
“Mustard.” He furrowed his brow. “Why?”
“I shall search for a yellow shirt in case you spatter it all over me.”
He bit his lower lip as he held back another smile. “I see. You got me on that one.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” she said with a chuckle as she lifted a shoulder.
“I think I deserved it,” he answered. “Anyway, I will…I’ll see you later. And again, sorry…it’s been one of those days.”
“No problem. See you later,” she answered with a smile.
As she spun away, he reached for her, catching her elbow. “Oh, wait. What’s your name?”
She twisted to face him again, pausing for a moment before she said, “Ellie.”
“Ellie,” he repeated, the smile returning to his face. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. “I’m Nathan. Nate.”
She offered him a half-smile. “I will see you later, Nathan.”
He stared after her as she walked away, pushing her arms though his jacket sleeves. The grin refused to leave his face. He wondered if she’d come later. He hoped she would, despite his consternation.
His mind returned to the warning his thoughts had given him earlier. You’ve been burned .
But maybe this time he could be smarter. Maybe he could vet her in some way. Maybe…
His ringing phone tugged him back to reality as his mind wandered in the clouds. He pulled the device from his pocket and glanced at the screen where his father's name was emblazoned. He swiped to answer it as he left the coffee shop behind, no longer needing the buzz the coffee would have given him.
“I’m fine,” he answered.
“Just checking,” his father said. “You stopped answering your texts. I know this day is probably going to be tough–”
“I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.” The image of Ellie danced through his mind. “I’m…actually better than fine.”
“Really?” his father’s deep voice asked, questioning.
“Really. I’m doing okay.” He had no urge to drink, no sinking thoughts, no dread. His heart, still guarded, dared to hope for the first time in a year. He hoped it wasn’t false.
“Okay,” his father answered. “Well, if that changes, you know–”
“Where to reach you, yeah,” he said as he skirted around a few people on the sidewalk. “And where to find a meeting if I need one.”
“Do you need one?”
“No, Dad. I’m not drinking. I don’t have the urge to drink.” For one of the first times in the past year, he didn’t. He bypassed the bar he’d planned to stop at and continued on to his office at GenoTech, his father’s biotech company.
He wandered past the helix logo and past the glass offices toward his corner office at the back. With his background in pharmacology, he’d taken a lead role at his father’s company. Although it wasn’t only his background that had given that to him.
He shook off the bad memories of the war with his brother that had nearly cost him his family and clicked into his emails.
“Hey,” his father’s voice said.
Nate glanced up to find his father leaning against the door jamb. He flicked his gaze back to his screen. “Checking in person. ”
“Maybe,” his father said as he strode inside and sank into a chair across from Nate.
“Well, as you can see, I’m fine.”
“Good. Melinda said you ran out of here and I just…wanted to check.”
“Yeah, I had some bad memories of today and just needed a minute. I was going to grab coffee, but the line was too long. I came back.”
His father narrowed his light eyes at him. “No stops at the bar?”
Nate grabbed a folder and tossed it into his outbox folder. “I have not been drinking.”
“That’s really…excellent, Nate. None of us would blame you, though, if you had a slip.”
“I didn’t slip,” he said, his jaw tightening.
He knew his father had every right to ask. He’d hit rock bottom once. They wanted to make sure he wouldn’t do it again. He should be glad they cared after what he’d done to his brother. Most families would have cut him off. But not the Kingsleys. With Charles Kingsley leading the family, they’d rallied around him, sometimes being more supportive than he wanted.
“Okay, son,” the man said. “Well, again, that’s excellent. This is…a real step forward for you, Nate. A few months ago…”
“I would have been six shots deep just at the mention of her name, I know.”
His father bobbed his head up and down. “She was the problem, Nate. Not you.”
“That time,” Nate murmured.
“Put her out of your mind, son.”
He bobbed his head up and down. “Right. Now, I’d like to do that with some work. We’re close on the age slowing project, I know it.”
His father stared at him, balancing his face against his thumb and forefinger. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. See you at dinner?”
“No,” Nate said with a shake of his head.
His father lifted his graying eyebrows toward his salt-and-pepper hairline.
“I’m meeting a client,” he lied. He hated lying after the last few years, but he didn’t want to tell anyone about the woman who had enchanted him. He didn’t need a lecture on jumping in before he was ready—especially if she turned out to be nothing more than a tiny blip on the radar of his life.
He opened a research report but found himself unable to concentrate. Sparkling green eyes danced through his mind along with that sweet smile. He reminded himself not to rush into things.
He couldn’t tell her who he was. He’d done that before. With Chloe. Only he’d found out that she wasn’t in love with him like she’d said. She’d manipulated him, played the game, cleared the board, and stood as the winner.
She’d said all the right things, smiled when she should have, pouted at the right moments, but hindsight had shown him that her eyes only lit up when he’d handed her an expensive gift, not when she’d seen him. When he’d needed support, she’d withheld it.
She used him, trying to desperately get a chunk of the Kingsley money. It had only been when he’d walked in on her with another man that the truth had come crashing down around him.
And suddenly, trust became something difficult to believe in.
He shoved the memory away, refusing to let her ruin this day for him. Ellie would be different, he told himself. Because he’d made certain she had no idea he was an heir to a fortune. She couldn’t want money she didn’t know existed.
And that way he’d guard his heart. At least he hoped so. Deep down, the scars of his past whispered warnings he couldn’t entirely ignore. So, as forward as he looked to the evening, apprehension tightened his shoulders, warning him not to get his hopes up.