Chapter 1
REALITY CAME
Three Weeks Later
“You need to buckle down, Eleanor.” She cleared her throat to get her father’s attention. “Sorry. Nora.”
He was trying. She’d give him that much.
Just not as much as she would have hoped.
Seeing him again after her one night with Ethan hadn’t given her the joy she’d hoped.
She’d already felt knocked down from her actions the night before.
Letting go and being the woman she’d only ever watched from afar hadn’t given her the confidence she’d hoped for when she woke and realized what she’d done.
Was there excitement in a one-night stand?
Hell yes.
Did Ethan Bond make her body come alive in ways she didn’t think possible?
Double yes.
But when the afterglow faded and the room went still, so did she.
Because under the pulse and pleasure, there’d been something else. Something that made her wish it weren’t just one night.
She’d imagined for a split second what it might feel like to have someone like him on her arm. In her corner. To matter to a man like that.
And that was when reality came crashing in.
Men like Ethan didn’t date women like her. Not for real.
So rather than stick around for the awkward morning-after, she’d done the smart thing.
She grabbed her clothes off the floor, dressed in the dark, slipped out before dawn, and made the walk of shame back to her room.
Only shame wasn’t the right word.
Regret was.
And there was her father the next day when she arrived at his home.
He didn’t embrace her. Didn’t say she looked wonderful. Didn’t even ask how her trip was, thinking she had arrived moments before from Vermont. She needed a hug more than she could ever express, but like always, she kept it inside.
No, he took one look at her and said, “I thought you would have been here a little later.”
She held the dejection back, offered to leave and return, even though she’d texted she was on the way, but he told her that was nonsense, he just wasn’t prepared for her before lunch.
Maybe she wasn’t either, but after sneaking to her room before dawn and staring at the ceiling for a few hours, she checked out of the casino and drove to the ferry to get on the first one before the docks even opened.
Sitting in her car waiting alone in the parking lot was at least more comforting than the casino, knowing how close Ethan was and wondering what he’d think when he woke alone.
Once back in Boston, with nowhere to go, she parked in public parking and took off walking the streets and getting a feel for the Seaport District where she now lived.
Sunday morning sure was quiet, but she got a coffee and a muffin at one place she found open and built up the courage for her new life to start.
Two nights at her father’s had been enough until she could get into her apartment. One could only take so much of a verbal beatdown, even when she’d built what she thought was a damn strong wall.
“I’ve sent out multiple resumes,” she said, barely keeping the sigh from her lips. “I’ve been on three interviews. Things take time.”
“I blame your mother for allowing you to get a degree in marketing.”
There was no allowing. “Communications,” she corrected. “Marketing was my minor.”
It didn’t matter how many times she explained, he didn’t listen. It wasn’t what he wanted or approved of, so he didn’t absorb it. All it told her was that she still wasn’t important enough in his life.
Just like she’d felt to most people. Not good enough.
No more. She wanted to shake her hands and body to ward off those negative thoughts that years of hard work had tried to vanquish.
Still a work in progress obviously.
He waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter. You should have a job by now.”
“I’ve got money in the bank,” she said. “Enough for rent for a year easily.”
“That’s wasteful and you know it,” her father said, shaking his head. “It better not take you a year to get a job. Don’t be so selective. You can do that after you get a job.”
She frowned. “What?”
“If you had a job and you wanted to leave, you could be selective with the next one, but you don’t. You just quit the one you had to move here.”
She so wanted to argue with him.
To remind him that he called her. He asked her to move closer to him so that they could try to build their relationship.
That he worried she’d be all by herself in Vermont since her mother moved to Canada with her new husband.
Her mother had encouraged it as she worried also.
Surprising, considering her mother and father could barely be in the same room without yelling at each other and, as far as she knew, hadn’t spoken since her college graduation seven years ago.
Lynda Jones got sick of a marriage to a man who she’d never be able to do anything right and packed up their only child and returned to her hometown.
Her mother had dated Felix for the past five years. They had separate homes and Nora always wondered if it was because she lived with her mother.
Once they married, Felix wanted to return to Montreal.
Her mother offered for her to stay in the house she’d lived in for the past seventeen years and pay the mortgage. It was an option.
The other option was her father who’d reached out three months ago.
He seemed to forget that though. That he took that first step. The only time in his life that he had.
Could be why she agreed to this.
“What was I supposed to do?” she asked. “I’ve been sending out resumes since before I moved, but few were taking a chance on someone who isn’t here yet.”
“You explain your circumstances in the cover letter.”
She held the roll from her eyes. Barely. “You think I haven’t done that? I’m not stressing too much.” Not yet, at least. “I’m sure I’ll find a job. If I have to just take something part time, I will.”
“Hold out for something with benefits. Are you covered there too? I hope you budgeted for it all.”
“Dad,” she said, clutching as much frustration in as she could. “I did. I’ve got a lot of money in the bank.”
“Because your mother allowed you to live home this whole time and never explore the world and be independent. That’s on her. The same reason you’ve changed jobs so often.”
There was no winning this and all it was doing was giving her another headache.
What she wanted to point out was that he was the one who had just suggested she take anything first and then be selective after.
“Did you ask me here to lecture?” she asked.
She’d seen her father more in the past three weeks than she had in the past ten years.
That was where the trying was coming. If she could put up with the endless criticism.
“No. I thought we could go to lunch and chat.”
“We can,” she said. She’d walked here. No reason to drive anywhere, as it’d take her longer to get the little over a mile than it would be to walk anyway.
She passed more places to eat than she could count. She had to admit she loved the walkability of the area, but learned that there were no more weekly grocery trips. It was more like multiple times a week to get what she needed.
The little things to adapt to. And she had.
If only her father would understand all the things she’d done in her life that were good and not harp on what was bad...in his eyes.
Her father grabbed his wallet and phone, put them in the pocket of his jeans, then headed for the door.
“Do you enjoy living here? I know it’s different from what you were used to.”
“I lived here for years before,” she said.
“We lived outside the city,” her father said. “I hated it and the time it took to come into work. Your mother refused to give up the house. Life is easier this way.”
It’d always been the way her father wanted it.
“I can’t argue with that,” she said. “In terms of space, that’s something I gave up, but it’s nice there is a gym in the building for me to use rather than the treadmill I had at Mom’s.”
She barely brought anything with her when she moved. It wasn’t possible. She hired movers to drive and unload her bedroom furniture, one couch and the small kitchen table that was hardly used in her mother’s house.
The furniture her mother told her to take, as she bought everything new in Canada with Felix. The rest had been sold.
“You look as if you’re working hard at staying in shape.”
She almost bobbled her purse she was putting over her shoulder when he’d said that. Three weeks. Three freaking weeks for him to acknowledge the hard work she’d put into not being the chubby girl who everyone picked on.
“Thank you. I am. I’ve got a nice routine and I feel better than I ever have.”
“Good for you,” her father said.
Norris Jones rarely complimented anyone. She wouldn’t say never, because he kind of did right now. His version of it.
“It’s been a lot of work, but I’m up for it. Now it’s second nature. Some diet changes and exercise and here I am.”
“I’ve been saying that for years.”
Had to get that in there. Heaven forbid he’d be nice for over two minutes.
“You have been,” she said.
They rode the elevator down in silence. What more could she say?
“Do you have dietary restrictions? We can go to a vegan place if you want.”
“I’m not eating vegan, Dad.”
She didn’t know why he’d say that other than it felt like living around here, all the women walked around in workout gear in the mornings, going to do yoga outside, or taking a run, then getting their smoothies and protein drinks.
“It might be good if you did.”
“I’m eating a healthy mix of everything but in moderation. It’s easier.”
“That has always been your problem, you take the easy way out. You get in shallow water and let yourself drift rather than swimming back.”
Deep breath in, hold it, then let it out.
Again, then again.
“I’m swimming well now,” she said, lifting her chin. “And you pick where you want to eat. You’re looking a little thin to me.”
Her father was sixty-five. He could retire and she was surprised he hadn’t.
He’d had a long, great career, as Vice President of Operations and was living his life the way he always wanted and if whoever he was with didn’t like it, they normally took a walk.
Maybe work was all he had now.
“I have little appetite like I used to,” her father said.
She looked at his face, saw more wrinkles than normal, the muscle loss on his frame, but still evident.
She had to remind herself she hadn’t seen him in years, she had little to judge him on other than aging.
His personality sure the hell hadn’t changed.
“I don’t snack as much,” she said. “I buy less at the store now. If I’ve got to go too often and carry everything back, I watch what I’m getting. I might have more delivered too.”
For now, more exercise for her to walk and carry everything back. There was a store half a mile away and it worked out well enough for bigger trips. One across from her building for a few quick last-minute things.
“It will cost you more,” her father said. “You should be budgeting. I’ll give you some money.”
“No,” she said firmly. That was the last thing she wanted.
It must have been the tone of her voice that had her father twisting his head to look at her, their silent stare ready to do battle.
“You’ll tell me if you need it?” he asked, quieter than he’d ever spoken to her before.
Accepting any help from him would shackle her even more to feel as if she had to listen to what he said.
If moving here drained her money for a year, she’d go somewhere cheaper. She was determined to do this on her own.
Of all the changes she’d made in her life, the most important one was her self-confidence.
The last thing she needed was this chance of reconnecting with her father to weigh her down and suffocate what she’d striven so hard for.
“Yes,” she lied. Maybe she hadn’t changed as much as she hoped, but it was easier to just respond that way.