Chapter Five #2
Afternoon light lay across the far wall, and the wind moved faintly through the trees outside.
I had spent almost two weeks making sure nobody saw me without a plan.
Dane already had.
He’d seen me trespassing, embarrassed, between kitchens, naked, ridiculous, and completely sure of myself in a kitchen. He had never once tried to take over the parts of my life I hadn’t offered him.
I lifted my head.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m better than okay.”
He kissed my forehead.
I should have told him then.
Not because sex had earned him the explanation. It hadn’t.
I was simply tired of keeping the hardest part of the truth outside every room we shared.
I wasn’t going to wait until Monday. I’d tell him tonight.
***
By early evening, I was dressed again in my denim shorts and green tank and standing in Dane’s kitchen with a bottle of water.
I opened the refrigerator and surveyed what was left.
“We should probably eat something later.”
“That sounds less enthusiastic than your usual approach to food.”
“I’m thinking simple. We have leftovers, vegetables, bread, and no reason to turn dinner into a production.”
Dane leaned against the island. “I’m comfortable with simple.”
I shut the refrigerator.
“I’m going back next door for a little while. I need to put a few things away and remember that I technically live there this weekend.”
Dane pushed away from the island. “I’ll walk with you.”
I glanced toward the bright windows. “You know it’s daylight.”
“I noticed.”
I smiled and let him come anyway.
The early evening was still warm and dry, the sort of Colorado weather that made the cooler nights feel farther away than they were. We crossed the deck and took the familiar path through the evergreens.
Near the edge of Dane’s property, the path curved around a thicker stand of trees before dropping toward the rear side of Dad’s lot. From that bend, a break in the evergreens gave a clear view of the upper part of Dad’s driveway and the garage.
A dark SUV turned off the private road and climbed toward the house.
I stopped so fast Dane nearly walked into me.
“That’s my father.”
He followed my line of sight. “I thought you had until tomorrow.”
“So did I.”
For one stupid second, I considered going back to Dane’s and appearing later with a story about returning from Europe early.
Then I remembered my car was already inside Dad’s garage and two weeks of my clothes were upstairs.
No amount of confidence could make that story work.
Vanessa’s door opened.
I took a breath. “I need to do this now.”
Dane didn’t move closer or tell me what to do. “Do you want me with you?”
“Yes.”
We kept walking.
Vanessa had already climbed out by the time we reached the driveway. She wore a pale sundress and sunglasses pushed into her dark hair, looking as polished as ever.
She saw me and hurried over.
“Chrishelle? Oh my God, you’re here.” She hugged me. “Why are you here? Are you okay? Did something happen with the trip?”
Three questions.
Right on schedule.
“I’m okay.”
Dad came around the SUV and stopped when he saw me beside Dane.
“You’re supposed to be in Europe.”
There was no useful answer except the truth.
“I know. I need to explain something.”
Vanessa finally noticed Dane properly.
“Oh. Hello.”
“This is Dane O’Shea. He owns the house next door.”
Dane offered his hand. “Mr. Palmer.”
“Carlton.” Dad shook it, then turned back to me. “What’s going on?”
“Can we go inside?”
Dad nodded. “My meetings wrapped early, so we decided to come up today. We thought the house was empty.”
“Of course you did.”
I had told him I was on another continent.
Inside, we stopped in the kitchen. Vanessa sat on one of the stools. Dad stayed standing.
“How long have you been here?”
“Almost two weeks.”
The silence that followed was worse than shouting.
I glanced at Dane. He had stopped near the end of the island, close enough that I knew he was there without stepping into the middle of this.
So I handled it.
“The restaurant never opened.”
Dad’s face changed.
“The financing collapsed before opening week. Then everything came out about the owner. He was a fraud, and the whole project fell apart.” I forced myself not to rush even though every old instinct told me to get through the explanation fast enough that nobody could interrupt.
“The job was gone before I ever left New York.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened.
Dad stared at me. “And you didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“You went to Europe instead.”
“There was no Europe.”
Vanessa blinked.
Dad went very still.
I kept going.
“I panicked. I told you I was taking a long trip before the opening because I didn’t want to explain what happened yet. Then I drove here. My car has been in the garage the entire time.”
Vanessa glanced toward the garage door and back at me.
“That is a very committed lie.”
“Vanessa,” Dad said.
“No, she’s right.”
Vanessa’s mouth closed, but sympathy stayed all over her face.
Dad rubbed a hand once over the back of his neck.
“Why?”
There it was.
The part I’d been avoiding harder than the facts.
“Because I knew what you would do.”
His eyebrows drew together. “What does that mean?”
“You’d make calls.”
“If your job disappeared because some criminal couldn’t finance his own restaurant, of course I would make calls.”
“Of course.”
“I could have had you in front of three restaurant groups within forty-eight hours. I still can.” He reached toward his pocket as if the phone itself had been waiting for permission. “There are people in New York raising money right now. I can get you in front of them—”
“Dad. Stop.”
He stopped.
The hurt on his face landed harder than anger would have.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why are you acting like that’s a problem?”
Because he loved me, and because he had money, connections, and a lifetime of proof that action could usually make problems better.
I had spent years needing proof that what I built belonged to me.
I took a breath.
“Because sometimes you start solving before I’ve even had a chance to decide for myself.”
Dad’s mouth tightened.
I kept my voice steady.
“You’re good at fixing things. You can put me in rooms I couldn’t get into by myself, and you can make problems disappear with one phone call. I understand how lucky that makes me.”
“Chrishelle—”
“Please let me finish.”
He did.