Chapter 25 #2
She knew the reality of long-distance relationships. Love didn’t flourish without touch. It withered. They wouldn’t forget about each other, but the intensity would fade, work would take up more space in their brains and their feelings would naturally die out.
And, of course, Birdie had to come first.
“I’m sorry.” He tightened his hold as if he could take the brunt of her grief.
“I knew it was coming.” Her knees gave a little, but his arms steadied her. “I don’t know why I’m reacting like this.”
“Because you love him.” He led her to the couch, pulling her down beside him, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.
She curled into him. “I do. I’m crazy in love with him, Dad. But I knew it wouldn’t last. I knew it.”
“Does it have to be over?”
“Yes. I mean, look at our lives. When I’m working on a case, I barely have time to eat, let alone sleep. And he’s got football and Birdie. It’s impossible.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think anything’s impossible. Not if you both want it to work.” He rubbed her back. “You think you’ll fall for someone else?”
She pulled back just enough to look at him. “There is no one else.”
“Then that’s what you hold on to.”
She liked that very much. It let her clutch a tiny piece of hope.
But just as she settled back against him, she grew aware of the scent on his clothes. Her head popped up. “Why do you smell like perfume?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Mrs. Archer.”
She sat up. “And how did you get close enough to share her perfume?” Her dad would never get involved with his former sister-in-law.
And even if they could date, she couldn’t have been more wrong for her dad.
Where he was a lumberjack mountain man, her aunt was into fashion and art. And she was extremely uptight.
“She called room service because there was a ‘speck’ in her salad.”
“A speck?”
Her dad’s grin broke through his thick beard. “That’s right. And I had to go rooting through the whole thing to find out it was a peppercorn.”
“No wonder she stays here. No other hotel would have the patience.”
“I’ve been in the service industry for thirty years,” he said.
“One thing I’ve learned is everybody has a story.
And everyone deserves a little kindness.
A couple of years ago, I heard the staff complaining about her.
How picky she was, how entitled, and she was right there on the other side of the door, eating breakfast. She heard every word. ”
Willa felt the pinch in her heart. “So that’s why she takes her meals in her room.”
“That’s why. And that’s also why those two don’t work here anymore.”
She looked up at him, warmth spreading through the ache. “You’re a good man, Dad.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” he teased. Then, more gently, “What’s your plan, sweetheart? Now that he’s gone?”
She didn’t want to change anything. She wanted to go back to how things were half an hour ago.
“Because I’m healthy,” he continued. “And the inn’s doing just fine. You don’t have to stay on my account.”
She knew he was right. Still… “I mean, I still haven’t found a general manager.”
“And the search will go on without you. I can handle interviews.”
“Then I guess…I’d better call Mom.”
Willa stood at the window, phone in her hand, gearing up for the call. Rain tapped softly against the glass, catching the glow of red taillights on the street below.
How was it that only a matter of weeks ago, she’d loved her life? Her fancy apartment and designer shoes made her feel powerful, sophisticated. They were the symbol of achievement.
And now, the thought of walking back into Barrett & Associates made her sick to her stomach.
Then again, weeks ago, she hadn’t seen her mom clearly.
She did now, which meant things needed to change.
She wouldn’t be her mom’s puppet anymore. She’d finish this last, career-defining deal, and then quit. After that, she’d figure out what she actually wanted.
With a solid plan in mind, she was ready to make the call. As it rang, she wondered whether her mom had given the lead to someone else, just to punish her. If she had, Willa would move on. She wouldn’t let her mom control her like that anymore.
When her mother didn’t answer, Willa sent a text message instead.
Willa: I’ll be in the office on Wednesday.
The reply came instantly. So she’d had her phone. She just wasn’t going to take Willa’s call. As punishment.
Of course.
Mom: Make it Thursday. Your Wednesday is booked.
Willa: Booked?
Mom: Hair appointment, mani/pedi. My stylist will send some outfits to your apartment.
Willa let out a quiet breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. It must be exhausting to be Elizabeth Barrett.
Well, okay. At least she had a plan now.
Finish the deal, make partner, and leave my mom’s firm.
She turned from the window, taking in the rumpled sheets and the forty-ounce water bottle Decker left behind.
Decker.
She thought of that hard, sculpted body, the strong, capable hands that had gripped her, and longing threatened to drown her.
Had his plane taken off yet?
Had he brought snacks for Birdie? Something for her to do on the flight?
She should call him and find out.
That’s how we stay together. Conversations and gestures like that.
I can send them packages. Have treats delivered to them on the road.
But then, she widened the lens, got a look at the bigger picture.
What were they actually trying to do?
Realistically, her case would take twelve, maybe twenty-four months. With ninety-hour weeks, she’d have very little left to give.
He had a season ahead of him. And a daughter.
She could wait and see what happened. You never know, right? Even with insurmountable odds, it could work out.
But Decker’s priority had to be Birdie. He couldn’t divide his attention between his daughter and a long-distance girlfriend. He needed to focus wholly on that little girl who desperately needed stability and roots.
It was time to call it.
Willa: I loved every minute I spent with you, but—
She deleted it. Started over. There were no “buts.”
Willa: I loved every minute with you.
Willa: I don’t want to lose what we had to distance and missed calls, to resentment when we keep missing each other. Beat your records, be the best dad you can be. And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.
And then, heart heavy, throat tight, she wrote one last message.
Willa: Best road trip ever.