23. Orson
23
Orson
My head is sore this morning. Maybe I had too much of an intimate relationship with my bourbon last night. It probably doesn’t help that my head was overrun with thoughts, and I didn’t go to bed until past one in the morning.
Smart, Orson. Real smart.
Sleep was a combination of tossing, turning, bad dreams, and waking in the night, so this morning, I look and feel like death warmed up. And I still have to travel to the city. I head into the shower and blast the cold water. I breathe in sharply. While the pain I feel all over my body certainly takes away from my thumping head, it doesn’t stop the pain in my heart.
Calling Lily yesterday didn’t work, but it doesn’t stop me from calling several times again on my way into the office. She doesn’t answer. Now there’s a surprise. There’s no point leaving a voicemail; I can’t imagine she’s going to listen to them either.
When I finally get into the office, my phone rings, and I immediately lift it, but I feel a wave of disappointment when I see the caller is my grandfather.
“What?” I say when I answer. It’s completely rude, but I’m too tired to care.
“And good morning to you too,” he says, his tone laden with sarcasm.
A wave of dread washes over me at the thought that his spies might have seen Lily leaving the apartment with all her belongings yesterday. I can feel my heart beginning to thump hard against my rib cage in anticipation of what he’s going to say next.
“I apologize,” I say quickly. “I’ve had a busy week.”
“Indeed. I hear things are moving along well in Willow Creek.”
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about the plans for the upgrade of the town.
“Yes. Yes, they are. We have more sponsors on board, and I hear there are even more investors interested.”
“Very good, Orson. You should give yourself a pat on the back.”
Right now, I want to give myself a punch in the face, but I don’t want to reignite my waning hangover. The headache is not long gone.
“Have you put a date in your diary for four weeks?” Pops asks.
“Four weeks? Why? What’s happening in four weeks?”
The old man chuckles into the phone. “My, my, you have had a busy week. Your birthday is in four weeks, son. We’re throwing a party at the estate to celebrate you inheriting your fortune.”
I take a deep breath in. “Right,” I say, reeling at his words.
One might forget their birthday, but it’s unlikely they would forget inheriting an empire, and yet, with Lily leaving, I’ve been a little distracted by wondering if she’s all right.
“I’ll put it in my diary,” I say, wanting to bring the conversation to a close.
“Very well. I will speak to you soon. Bye for now.”
“Bye, Pops.”
When I hang up, I slump back in my office chair. Great. Just the call I needed right now. I’m not going to say I don’t care about my inheritance. That would be foolish and simply not true. I’ve worked darned hard to get where I am today.
In fact, unbeknownst to most of the employees, it’s been my decisive action-taking that has saved this company from bankruptcy—twice. I’m not being handed something I haven’t worked for, and even when I get it, there’s still a board of directors I have to work with. But I will be the CEO, a title I deserve after all my efforts.
And yet, right now, that’s not my priority. Never in my adult life could I have imagined that thought would pass through my head, and yet, it’s true. I lift my phone again and call Jake.
“I know it’s short notice,” I say when he answers, “but I really need your advice. Can you spare a half hour at some point today?”
“I can spare more than that, buddy. You all right?”
I shake my head. “No. Not at all.”
When I get to the coffee shop. Jake is already there. He’s gotten me a coffee, which sits on the table with steam rising from it.
It’s not often I see Jake without a smile on his face, but he’s looking at me with a worried frown as I sit down across from him.
“Wow, man. You look rough. What’s going on?” he says.
“Well, first of all, I brought you to a public place so you couldn’t hit me,” I joke weakly.
Jake’s frown deepens. “What?
“I have a confession to make,” I sigh, “and you’re not going to like it.”
It has occurred to me that when Lily and I made this agreement of a fake marriage, there were no feelings involved. I’m not saying that anyone who knows us wouldn’t feel sad when we got “divorced,” but if I’m honest, I didn’t really think it through to the end, to what the finality would look or feel like. Not for us or for anyone else who had been caught up in the false narrative we created.
But now, since my feelings have grown for her, I realize that the people we’ve told are going to get hurt. More than that, they deserve to know the truth. I haven’t had a chance to discuss this with Lily yet, and maybe it’s all too late. Maybe we’ll go down in history as the couple who had the shortest marriage in Willow Creek. Though if I were Cindy Caldwell’s brow-beaten husband, I would have totally beaten that record by now, but I digress.
Besides that, Jake is my best friend. I should have told him, anyway. He also needs to know the truth in order to be able to help me.
He sits and listens as I go through everything from the very beginning. My thought process, the reasons I did it, and the benefits it was going to give Lily, too. I watch his face changing, distorting into all sorts of expressions—several of which pain me because he is obviously hurt that I chose not to confide in him. I do explain why, but still, we’ve been friends since high school.
Good friends. And I lied to him.
“So the night at our dinner party, you were both pretending to be married?” he asks, gawking at me.
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“And the kiss?”
“Well, that was completely unexpected. But I also think that was the catalyst that got us to where we are. Or at least, where we were.”
Jake looks at me for a long time and then nods. “All right. Where is she now?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug and a heavy sigh.
“So, are you worried about Lily or the inheritance?”
“What?” I glare at him.
Jake fixes his eyes on me. “I have to ask the hard questions, Orson. No one else will.”
I suppose he’s right, but the question still angers me.
“I’m worried about Lily. I’m not saying I don’t care about the inheritance—of course I do—but right now, Lily’s more important. This all started as a business deal. We made a contract, and both of us knew what was expected of us. Now, I feel lost. I’m in a game where I don’t know the rules, and I’m not used to that.”
“Of course you’re not.” Jake smirks. “You’re always the man in control of everything.”
“Yes, well. Not anymore.”
For a long moment, Jake doesn’t speak. He looks contemplative, as though he’s thinking about my dilemma. Or maybe he’s thinking about how much I didn’t trust him.
After a while, he shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
His words confirm the latter part of my assumption. I’ve hurt my best friend, and the guilt I felt earlier when I was confessing it all to him hasn’t gone anywhere.
“I’m sorry, Jake. Truly, I am. It was a stupid decision on my part. Pops was just putting me under so much pressure, and then I had to face my past when he sent me back to Willow Creek. Clearly, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“And are you thinking straight now?”
“Yes. I know what I want. I want Lily in my life.”
“How do you know for sure?”
As an overwhelming feeling of clarity washes over me, I look him straight in the eye. “Because I love her.”
Jake smiles at me. “Words I never imagined I would hear come out of your mouth.”
“Yes,” I say, feeling a little bewildered. “I think I surprised myself.”
“You need to find her, Orson, and you need to tell her how you feel. From what you’ve said so far, the two of you have been dancing around the subject. I’m not surprised you’re confused. But maybe if you’d told her properly how you felt, she wouldn’t have run away.”
“But the email…”
Jake shook his head. “I don’t think so. I know this relationship thing is new to you, but women like to know where they stand.”
We talk some more, but soon, Jake has to get back to his office to meet with clients in the afternoon. When it’s time to leave, I stand and hug my best friend.
“Thank you, man, and I’m really sorry,” I say with feeling.
“It’s a good thing I know you, right?” He smirks.
“Thanks for listening, and thanks for the advice. I know you won’t, but I have to ask you to please keep this to yourself.”
“Client confidentiality,” he says with a shrug. “I can’t repeat anything I hear.”
“I’m not your client.”
“Pay me fifty bucks and we’ll call it even.” He grins.
I return to the office with Jake’s words bouncing around my head. Maybe he was right. He usually is. If I had just told her how I felt from the beginning, this might never have happened. I know we talked a bit in the hospital, but it was too late by then. I should have told her after that first kiss in Jake’s garden. I knew how I felt back then, even if I denied it to myself.
I’m working at a snail’s pace because I can’t concentrate on my work. Every time I try to formulate an email or look through a spreadsheet, my mind wanders back to where Lily is, whether she hates me, and if she’ll ever give me a chance to explain this mess.
A couple of hours later, I give up. Maybe I’ll get more work done at home.
Who are you kidding?
No one, apparently.
I’m driving home when my phone rings, and looking at the screen on the dashboard, I don’t recognize the number. I answer anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Orson. It’s Ellie.”
My eyes fly wide, and several emotions wash over me as thoughts of why she might be calling fly through my head at lightning speed.
Is that where Lily is?
Is she all right?
Maybe she wasn’t with Ellie at all, but something happened.
Why don’t you talk to the darn woman and find out?
“Hi Ellie,” I say, listening to my common sense. “Is everything all right?” I try to keep my voice as even as possible, but it’s a struggle.
“Not from what I hear,” she replies. “Listen, Orson. Lily’s in a pretty bad state. She—”
“Is she hurt?” I blurt.
“No. I don’t mean like that. I mean, since she moved out of your apartment. My sister takes on a lot of responsibility. She’s always been the one to keep us all level-headed, but I think she’s just had too much on her plate. She needs you.”
“Where is she?” I ask.
And five minutes later, I’m punching in an address on my GPS.