Chapter 23
S ALT WATER FILLED her mouth and she spat it out through giggles while crashing onto the shore. She jumped up off her belly and stood then turned to look back out to the sandbar from where they had launched. She spotted Chris, riding a wave in, and then adjusted the bracelet linking her to the board and ran to where he ended.
“You cheated.” He chuckled, squinting the salt away from his eyes as he got to his feet.
Her laughter was uncontainable. She’d bested him in no time. “Did not. Guess you’re a good teacher.”
The push and pull of the tide shifted her feet, forced her forward, and she slammed into his chest. It was hard, warm, and safe. She stayed there a second longer than what she probably should’ve before stepping back and meeting his eyes. They were deep with need, protecting some hidden emotion that she was desperate to uncover.
“Two London Fogs!” the barista called.
The smile filling Carrah’s cheeks relaxed. The memory from two days ago was on a constant loop, popping into her mind whenever it was idle. She scrambled to grab her head from the clouds and rushed to the counter while closing out of an email that had come in from Olivia Grimké, a popular literary agent out of New York offering representation.
True to his word, Chris had said he would help if she let him. He’d made that affirmation when they escaped to the beach, and again yesterday at their morning meet. It seemed the man was determined to unlock her hidden fantasies and make each one come true.
Where was he? She scanned the café not seeing him and picked up their drinks. As she exited she checked her watch noting that he was already ten minutes later than he had been yesterday. Once on the porch she placed the cups down, eased her phone from her bag, and pressed his contact. There was no answer. She messaged him, waited a few seconds, but got no reply. Finally, she called his office. She cleared her throat as Shayla answered the phone.
“Morning, Shayla, this is Carrah Andrews. Is Chris available?”
“Not at the moment.” Her response was crisp, but not cold. “Would you like me to give him a message?”
No, she didn’t want that. Carrah didn’t even want Shayla to tell Chris she’d called the main line since he’d told her to do so only if there was an emergency. “No,” Carrah replied. “Can I swing by real quick and drop something off for him? I don’t need to see him if he’s busy.”
There was no response. Carrah held the phone away from her ear to see if Shayla had hung up. A blowing noise came through the other end. “I should not be telling you this, but… Chris had a rough morning. He was only in the office half an hour before he left, said he needed to go clear his head.”
Words repeated in Carrah’s head twice before the light bulb went off. Chris told her the first time they went to the cottage that it was a place he came to when he wanted to escape or clear his head. “Thank you, Shayla. I owe you.”
They disconnected and without hesitation she moved to her car. On the way to his cottage she made a pit stop at Not Jus’ Donuts and grabbed his usual glazed twists. After the way he’d made her laugh and forget about the cares of the world the last few days, it was the least she could do to help chase his dark clouds away.
When she finally arrived at the cottage, the gate was closed. Yet there were fresh tire tracks… and he’d said this was where he came to escape. She pulled off the road and parked in a grassy patch on the side. Once she was certain her car was safe she grabbed her keys and the little pastry bag.
The second she climbed over the gate she noted his smooth, black Bentley. Instant relief flooded her in that she hadn’t been wrong or wasted her time in locating Chris. She stepped on the porch and knocked on the front door. After no one answered she tried the knob and found it locked.
Again, she called his phone and got no answer. Her hands went to her hips, thinking of a way to get in as she scanned the property. Carrah took the steps down from the porch and ventured to the side of the house. Her mission to find Chris was almost distracted by the bright purple butterfly bush that grew under the umbrella of an old oak tree. She remembered Mrs. Caldwell stating the flower shied away from the sun, and so it made sense that it was nestled in a spot shaded by the house and ancient tree.
Temptation to pick a few stems was strong. However, her desire to find Chris and be there for him like he had been for her was stronger. She restarted her steps and not even ten paces away she saw him standing with his hands in his pockets still dressed in business clothes underneath a large magnolia.
Carrah approached slow and quiet, wanting to surprise him. “Are you hiding from the world?”
His back stiffened before his head began to shake. “No, just the reality that my mother isn’t in it.”
Pain laced with sadness quieted his voice. A moment of indecision caught her footsteps before she moved to his side. She gazed out onto the lake and understood why he came here to escape. It was a breathtaking serenity, sweet with the scent of blooming magnolias and orange blossoms that came from remnants of an orange grove to the left. The sun rising against the lush hills, tall cypress, and unspoiled nature surrounding them was hard to find anywhere else.
“I’m sorry, Chris.” She thought of taking his hand. He had taken hers the other day when he led them into the water. Except this was different. She saw that he was vulnerable and didn’t want to assume or take advantage of the proximity they were establishing.
“Why?” He finally looked at her. However, it was only for a fleeting second. “It isn’t your fault she isn’t here.”
Carrah didn’t know how to respond so she didn’t. She stood there patiently waiting until the crumpling of the pastry bag reminded her of the twists she brought him. She extended her arm offering him the bag. After he took it she lowered herself to the ground and sat crisscross. To her surprise, he dropped down beside her in his designer slacks and crossed his long legs that were capped by Prada dress shoes. His taste was impeccable.
“Humor me.”
She glanced across to see she was being offered a glazed twist. While she was waving a hand to refuse, her head went back in laughter. “Are you trying to make me fat? I had a funnel cake and ice cream with you at the beach. Strawberry shortcake yesterday. Your sweet tooth is endless.”
“Your body is beautiful.” Their eyes locked. “Why do you worry about what you eat so much? Pageant habit?”
Avoiding the sincerity he spoke with, she turned away from him and focused back on the tranquil landscape of lake water and blue skies. She wished it were simply an old-habits-die-hard sort of thing. It wasn’t. In the years she’d dated Trent, he had nitpicked her being too thick or too thin. Butt too big and breasts too small.
Nothing ever pleased him, especially after she gave up pageants. He often criticized her, believing she was ten pounds heavier, and then screwed women who were model thin. One was actually more voluptuous. The point was Trent’s preferences for anything but her spurred body confidence issues that were as real as the new day. Chris would never know how much she and her ego appreciated his declaration.
“Critical ex-boyfriend.” She exhaled, getting it off her chest while hoping she would not become full of self-doubt. That tended to happen when she rehashed the hurt she’d endured, especially in the company of a man as handsome as Chris, who made her hyperaware of her appearance.
A loud harrumph escaped him. “You mean stupid ex-boyfriend. You are as André 3000 rapped, the prototype.”
Carrah froze, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. The compliment was heady and completely unexpected coming from someone who had always looked the other way when she entered a space. She huffed a chuckle, playing off the mixed signals her brain failed to uncross, and maintained refusal of the twist.
“More for me then.” He took a bite out of the fried dough. “Mm-mm, thanks.” She nodded, and for a little while they sat in silence. Until he said, “When we were at the beach, it reminded me of the times I spent there with my family. A day trip to Bethune Beach was one of my mom’s favorite things to do whenever we came to Florida. I guess I’d found reasons to avoid going because—do you know what it’s like to watch your mother become a shell of herself?”
The spirit of the human condition humbled Carrah. She understood more than he knew. It made her contemplate how much more she would let him in. Sharing family secrets with the one man who could use them to his advantage was risky. Except her intuition whispered against her thoughts.
“Actually, I do.” She cleared her throat. “My mother suffered an uncommon, aggressive flare-up with her lupus. Her body was ravaged to the point that none of us expected her to be alive to see this summer.”
“You’re lu… cky.” He paused, swallowed hard, and then focused on something in the distance. “My mother woke up one morning and had stage four triple negative breast cancer. Then in what seemed like the blink of an eye, she was gone.” His voice trembled.
“I’ve never felt so lost, Carrah. She was my guide. My go-to. My father stays upset with me for establishing my firm. But my mom didn’t see it like that. She encouraged me, challenged me… believed this path I made was worth traveling. Today was one of those days where I would’ve called her up, given her an earful, and then asked for advice.”
“I can’t replace Ms. Claudette, nor will I try. I can be all ears, though.”
His distant gaze settled upon Carrah. “What if it’s about you… amongst other things?”
Chris reclined back to his elbows and observed her. He was unable to articulate what those other things were, for he was in no position to divulge wanting his mother’s opinion on his guilty conscious regarding his father’s revenge scheme against the Andrews family. Nor could he explain to Carrah that losing his mother brewed chaos within him that created doubts about sacrificing duty to his family for his career choice.
“Me?” One, maybe two seconds passed before she looked over her shoulder at him. “Because I’m you’re client? Let me guess, you would ask her if you were wrong to accept me?” She swallowed hard and turned her head away from him, folding her arms.
He’d observed in previous interactions that whenever her arms crossed her chest, it was in response to something she disagreed with and it was normally accompanied by a pout. Other times he thought it was cute. Right now, not so much.
Carrah was just as aware that beyond the rivalry their grandfathers had started, their mothers had barely tolerated each other. Societal niceties from the various organizations they both held membership in was the only reason they ever even exchanged greetings. Therefore, he had other questions for his mother.
Questions that may yield answers to help him get rid of the confusion warring in his head between loyalty to his family and Carrah Andrews. Their time at the beach, the morning tea meetup, and even now, did him no favors. He’d spent the better part of last night second-guessing everything, including keeping his distance from the woman sitting next to him.
“Well… glad you know what goes on inside my head.” Sarcasm dripped off his tongue unintentionally. It was hard not to think of all the ways he still desired to help her despite their jaded past.
Carrah clambered to her feet, brushing off her bottom after being seated in the grass. She started past him without a word and he grabbed her hand. Chris let go of her feeling the tug against him. “You’re going to leave like that?”
“Why wait for you to tell me that our business arrangement is a mistake?” A myriad of expressions ran across her face before she schooled it to appear free of emotion. “Go ahead, say it, Chris. It’s for the best anyway. I can’t honor the contract with Hurston House. You can let Olivia know.”
Pretending to be surprised might have worked if he didn’t care about Carrah’s success. He had been prepared for something like this after learning her family was in trouble and the impact she made on the company. Ever since the day she waltzed into his office demanding help while confiding her aspirations, he’d felt indescribably linked. He knew her dreams and wouldn’t allow her to stop reaching for them. Besides, it could only get worse if Chauncy exacted revenge.
Chris pushed off the ground in one fluid motion and met her face-to-face. “Is that why you came here… to tell me you quit? How dare you give up on something you want because you think you know what’s in my head,” he gritted through his teeth. It stung a little but he had to say it. “You truly don’t know anything about me.”
“Maybe not… I tried to know you.” She blew a breath, fidgeting with her hands before she fisted them on her hips. “I’m here even after you stood me up, because I have this feeling that had it not been for our family history, we could’ve gotten along like everyone else. And as for everyone else, I would’ve found them to see what was wrong and be a friend in their time of need.”
His weight shifted from one foot to the other and so did his demeanor. It reminded him of the Hulk reclaiming his life as Bruce Banner. “For the record, I would ask her, my mother, how was it fair that you and I didn’t have a choice in all of this?” The hardness of her face became soft. Her hands dropped from her hips and she focused on his face. “We have been in each other’s orbits since toddlers in Jack and Jill, young adults in the Lakeside Debutante Ball, and now as full-on grown people. From Louisiana to the Shores, our spheres have never not intersected and yet they made us enemies. Is it not too late to change things? And I’m sorry. My head was—I didn’t mean to stand you up.”
She blinked twice. “I didn’t come here to quit.” Oddly, she avoided him, looking down to the ground. “In all honesty, I don’t want to give up. The problem is, I don’t know how to do both.”
“What is both?”
Everything around them seemed to have her attention except him. He squeezed her hand, firming the grip to hopefully help her understand he was there to help. He needed to. Guiding her was the only way he no longer felt lost himself.
Her lips pressed together and parted more than once before she explained. “My family… the business. Noir needs me right now and I don’t know how to work on the book and be in the lab. I can’t do both.”
“Answer me truthfully.” He peered down into her eyes. “What do you want to do?” A deer-caught-in-headlights expression was the answer he received. Had he pushed too much? He hoped not. “What’s wrong?”
Her head shook no. He was so confused by this woman until she opened her mouth and said, “No one has ever asked me what I wanted.”
“I—”
“Don’t take it the wrong way. Thank you for helping me realize the things I desire are important.” He nodded. “I want to publish the book. Hopefully write more.”
“Done. No turning back.” He dropped her hand, uncertain if he meant the contract to write the book or them no longer being rivals, and went back to his seat in the grass. “Don’t leave. You like landscapes. The view is pretty today.” Carrah squatted back down beside him. The battle within him seemed to quiet. “Thank you for checking on me.”
“Seven a.m.,” she replied.
“I don’t follow.”
“That’s how you pay me back,” she softly giggled. “Seven a.m. tomorrow meet me for tea. Maybe chat about my options so I don’t breach the contract you negotiated, Attorney Chennault.”
A smile curved his lips. “Sounds good. Now, since I have you here… tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“That game again.” They both laughed. “Well, if you must know, I hate fishing.”
Laughter surrounded them. Chris latched on to it and the happiness it invoked.