Chapter Seventeen
Elliot
I forget how difficult working with the city is.
Their deadlines are ridiculous, the demands are even worse.
With everything official for Caldwell Enterprises to take this project, I’m working late into the night to get everything prepared for them.
They need proposals, plans, names of everyone who will be working on the job, and the time frames.
I get that they want all of this, most people do, however they give us much less time to do it.
Typically, this wouldn’t be something I’d work on, but considering this is the biggest project I’ve ever had with the city, I’d rather do it myself.
Well, with the help of Seraphine, of course.
“How are you doing?” I ask as she takes a break to stretch. It’s late, near midnight at this point, and we’re both exhausted from looking at tiny numbers and words printed on paper for hours.
“Just tired.”
I sip from my glass of wine, then return it to the table.
The dining room isn’t where I would normally do my business, as I have an office for that, but Seraphine had a point when she said the space in here will make it easier to work.
We have everything spread out over the large dining table, with plenty of room for more if we need to see them.
I’d prefer being cramped and closer to her, but it is what it is.
“I mean with everything, not just this project.”
“Oh.” She pauses her stretch, dropping her hands to her side. “I’m… okay.”
It seems she hasn’t handled much of anything.
As if she’s holding back all the hurt and pain she’s dealt with over the last couple of months.
The breakup with my son and her father’s death.
Not to mention everything that came along with that, like the new job and new place to live.
She’s had a lot of changes in a short amount of time, and I don’t think she’s quite taken the time to process everything, even though she swore she has.
“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” I ask.
She smiles at me. “No offense, Mr. Caldwell, but you don’t seem like the therapist type.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well,” she begins, reaching for her glass of wine to finish it off.
I take the bottle that’s on the table and fill her glass, emptying the bottle.
“You’re composed all the time. Nothing rattles you.
You come across almost as detached, but I know that isn’t true because I see the intensity in your eyes.
Those who are truly detached, have soulless eyes. ”
“And you think my eyes have soul?” I ask with a smirk, liking this side of her. She isn’t usually so outspoken, especially when it comes to me. I’ll blame it on the wine and the late night—I’ll take it.
“They have an intensity I crave to have one day.”
“You can do anything you want to do, Seraphine.”
She smiles sadly, ducking her head and staring at her wine. “My mother used to tell me that.”
“That’s what good mothers do.”
“Was your mother a good one?” she asks, bringing her gaze back to mine.
“My mother was… she did her best.”
“You’re here. Look at all you’ve accomplished. She must have done something right.”
“She did something right by doing something wrong.”
“What does that mean?”
I go into the kitchen and return with another bottle of wine.
I finish off the last mouthful in my glass, then refill it.
I feel Seraphine’s gaze on me the entire time, and though I hadn’t planned on having a conversation with her about my family, I suppose there is no harm in it.
If it’ll help her through her own pain, I’ll do anything.
“My family was very poor growing up. Both my parents worked, but it was never enough. At least, not for me. They accepted that we didn’t have electricity more than we did.
They were okay eating peanut butter sandwiches for dinner each night.
They didn’t care that we didn’t have a vehicle.
They accepted a life they didn’t want simply because it was easier than fighting for something better.
Seeing that? It made me want more.” I move around to the side of the table she’s at and rest my hip against it.
“They weren’t bad parents. They were very loving, and I was a happy child, but in accepting what they were given, it made me aim higher.” I knew there was more out there, and I wanted it. Had I grown up in a different life, I may not be here right now.”
“Wow,” she breathes out. “That’s such a beautiful story.”
I smirk, bringing my wine glass to my mouth for another sip. “That’s one way to describe it.”
“My mother was wonderful,” she whispers. “She was beautiful and happy and was always smiling and singing. She’d laugh all the time and make jokes. Everyone loved her.”
“What happened to her?” I find myself asking.
She forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Those green eyes are dull now, sad.
“She killed herself when I was ten.”
Those words hit me right in the chest. Fuck. Both parents?
“I’m so sorry.”
Seraphine keeps smiling sadly, dragging her finger along the stem of her wine glass.
“My father was an amazing father before that happened. After? It’s like someone else took over his body.”
“Grief and pain will consume you if you don’t deal with it.”
She nods, downing her wine and before getting to her feet. She leans against the table beside me, her hands bracing herself up.
“He blamed me for her death. Said I was the reason she killed herself. Though, there was never any explanation or reason that I knew of.” She tucks some stray hair behind her ear, her expression faltering just the slightest before she continues.
“He needed someone to blame, and I was there. Young and innocent, without a way to stand up for myself. I resented him so much, and I think at some points, I hated him. And I know that makes me a terrible daughter but—”
“That does not make you a terrible daughter,” I rush to say, turning so I’m standing in front of her, boxing her in against the table.
“You are not a terrible daughter. He, as the adult, as your father and protector, should have made sure you were okay first. This isn’t your fault.
None of it.” Her gaze softens as my words hit her.
The pain is evident in her gaze, and it only fuels me to comfort her.
To give her what she needs without a second thought.
“People don’t kill themselves because of others—they do it because there is something inside of them, something that is broken.
Irreparable in their eyes. It’s all-consuming and too much to handle.
And yes, sometimes they lash out and choose to blame others.
And yes, sometimes it is others who send them over the edge, but there are deeper reasons for it. ”
Her eyes are glossy as she looks up at me.
“I know. I’ve done a lot of research on it over the years, and I know that.
It’s just… hard to believe when it’s been drilled into my head my whole life,” she says, searching my gaze for assurance.
“And my father… he did leave a note, which very clearly stated I was the reason he shot himself.” She flinches when she speaks those words.
“He blamed you?” I ask, keeping my anger in check. The last thing I need to do is explode right now, no matter how bad I want to.
She gives the smallest nod of her head, and I can’t help what I do next.
I wrap her in my arms, pulling her to me, wanting to protect her the best I can from this evil world.
Had I known what a horrible man her father was, I would have tried harder to get her away from him.
There wasn’t much time she was with him from when I met her, but still.
This all goes back to my son and his stupid decisions.
How could he do what he did to this sweet, innocent girl in front of me?
Harrison was aware her father was a terrible man, yet he had no issue sending her back to him?
He couldn’t have asked for help from me?
He couldn’t suggest I get her a place to stay?
“I raised my son better than this, and I am sorry for what he did to you.”
She shakes her head, pushing away from me. Her eyes are red, tears pooled in the corners. “What he did isn’t your fault.”
“It feels like it is. It feels like a failure on my part as a parent.”
“You haven’t failed as a father, Elliot. Sometimes people act before they think. That’s all.”
“Will you ever forgive him?”
I’m not sure why I ask. I’m not sure what I want the answer to be.
Harrison spoiled his chance with her, he doesn’t deserve another. And not that I think anything could be between her and me, but my god, I sure wish there would be.
“I don’t know,” she finally says honestly.
“He’s not good enough for you,” I blurt out, the wine getting to my head.
“He’s your son,” she says by way of sticking up for him.
“I don’t care. What he did to you is unforgivable, and he doesn’t deserve the goodness that you are.”
“You don’t even know me,” she says with a little laugh, trying to douse the intensity of this conversation with some humor.
“I do, though. I see you, Seraphine. See what you don’t show others. I see the woman you want to be through the woman you think you are.” I brush some hair from her face. “I see you. Your beauty, your kindness, your confidence. It’s all there, you just have to look for it.”
“You’ve mistaken me for someone else,” she says, again with a tiny laugh. She’s deflecting, not wanting to talk about this, and I get that. But I’m already on a roll here, I’m already spilling this to her.
“No, I’m not.” I cup her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. “You could have the world if you wanted. All you have to do is take it.”
I search her eyes, dipping my gaze to her lips for just a second before going back to her beautiful, watery green eyes. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. All I see in her right now is fear. Worry.
My cell rings from on the table, and I close my eyes, pressing my forehead to hers. I pull away before the call ends. If someone is calling this late, it must be important.
I pull myself away from her, though it’s the last thing I want to do, and answer my phone.
“Yeah?”
“Glad you’re awake,” Jack says. “I just received the letter from Brantly’s attorney.”
“And?”
“It’s a bunch of bullshit claiming there was nothing outlined in the contract about paying more for more work. It won’t hold up anywhere. I’ll try handling it with them first.”
“Don’t give him a penny or offer any more work. I will not allow him to drag my company through the mud over him being a spoiled brat.”
Jack chuckles. “Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that. I’ve got it handled. Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
I end the call and turn back to Seraphine, wanting to jump right back into our conversation. But I find her sitting at the table, looking over more papers with a highlighter in her hand. So, I sit down and do the same.