Chapter 31
Angela
Stretched out on a king-sized bed in a small town in South Carolina, I allow Garrett to hand feed me bits of fruit. The way he looks at me when I suck his fingers into my mouth and lick them clean jostles for position as the Hottest Thing I’ve Ever Done. This man…
This silly, grumpy, sweetly crazy man.
We should have left for our respective homes yesterday. We should have signed contracts, said our goodbyes, and then had the odd email every now and then. Maybe a phone call. A text.
But now…
…now…
What will happen now?
I hesitate to bring up work while we’re naked in bed, teasing each other into another round of Hottest Thing I’ve Ever Done. That would cheapen everything, and I one hundred percent did not sleep with Garrett to influence our business dealings.
They’re influenced anyway.
Obviously.
You don’t have a night like last night and a morning like this morning and not have the aftershocks trace their fingers along all areas of our lives.
It's not possible.
Garrett plucks a strawberry off the plate and angles it towards my mouth. When I move to bite it, he draws back. I give chase, right into his trap as he cups my head and kisses me. Our tongues glide together. He tastes of Prosecco and feels like…like…
…a promise.
A promise that will shake up my life. He’s the catalyst of change and I want to believe it’s positive.
Otherwise, I took one mistake and rolled it right into another, bigger mistake.
Instead of harnessing rocket fuel to launch me to success, I may have just dumped it all over me and lit a match.
And I don’t want to be that person. I’ve made it through my entire life without any serious mishaps and it can’t happen now. It just can’t.
I won’t let it.
When Garrett releases the kiss, I smile, pressing my forehead to his for a few lovely seconds before I sit back and reach for my Prosecco.
“Can I ask a personal question?”
“You can ask.” He graces me with a rare smile. “There’s no guarantee I’ll answer.”
“You mentioned a therapist last night…”
His jaw tightens. His eyes harden with distrust, the way Fluff and Orange used to look whenever I stepped onto the porch. “I did. Is that a problem?”
“No, no. God no. With the way the world’s going, all of us could do with a little professional help and I respect the hell out of someone who seeks it. It’s just…you don’t seem like the type…”
“I didn’t realize there’s a ‘therapist type.’”
“I mean, you go around, all growly and grumbly, talking about never needing a relationship and that sounds very, well, emotionally closed off, if you know what I mean. But then, last night, you said some really emotionally intelligent stuff and I don’t know what to do with that.”
I’m trying to read him. To see if he’s worth risking everything for, or if that’s even an option…
and it’s impossible to tell what this inexplicable man is thinking.
With the edge of our bubble approaching, I want to gobble up as much information as he’ll give me.
This will either be the weekend of passion I daydream about well into my old age, or it’s the start of something real…
Either way, I want to hold onto this moment for as long as possible. Before the real world with work and responsibilities jerks us away from each other.
Garrett shifts as he drinks his Prosecco. “I guess you could say I’m an emotionally closed off guy who’s learning to change.”
“I respect that. I do.” A half-smile tugs at my mouth and I run a finger along his arm. “I’m not sure it’s working all that well…”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “You sound like Charlie.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Silence hovers between us. Not the kind of silence you want to run from, but the kind you want to pause with, to drink in, to expand through.
“I don’t talk about it. The therapy.” Garrett rests his glass on the bed, his thumb running along the stem. “With anyone.”
“Then why me?”
“It didn’t happen on purpose.” He shrugs. “I was surprised when it came out and relieved you didn’t say anything.” Darkness settles over Garrett’s face as he glares at the rumpled bedsheets.
What is that? What’s happening in that head that makes him look so unhappy all the time?
I crane my neck to meet his gaze. “I was…indisposed,” I finish with a grin. “Definitely preoccupied with other matters.”
“I see.” His eyes meet mine as he plucks a strawberry off the plate and sinks his teeth into the juicy flesh. “And you’re not now?”
I am, I think. So incredibly preoccupied. Afraid I’m in the middle of risking everything and I’m looking for anything to prove I’m safe. Information. Connection. Anything at all to put me at ease.
“I mean, watching you eat that strawberry is preoccupying.”
Garrett grins as he pulls it from his mouth and traces the tip with his tongue before biting down and sucking, his gaze strong. Blistering with desire. It’s everything I saw in that picture his ex-girlfriend sent…
And it’s aimed right at me.
“Really preoccupying,” I say, laughing lightly.
Garrett chews and swallows, then sips his Prosecco and sets the glass on the table. Thoughts tick away behind his eyes, and he worries the inside of his lip. The scowling, growly veneer falls away and I see a vulnerability.
A sensitivity.
The man behind the mask.
This. This is what I’m looking for. I sit up, expectation propelling me closer.
“I had a hard time after my mom died.” Garrett rakes a hand through his hair.
“It was so sudden, a car wreck, so, you know, no warning. I took it really hard. Started acting out. Getting in fights. That kind of stuff. Instead of supporting me, the entire town decided I was broken. Can you imagine that? An entire town against one little kid. They actually called me a monster. My dad couldn’t get anyone to babysit us.
It was hard. It hurt. I was young and needed help processing my grief.
All I got was judgment. When Mom—Amelia—came into the picture, she was amazing, but I still had a lot of shit to deal with.
I stopped being able to remember my mother’s face and that kinda fucked me up. ”
“I can’t even imagine. I’m sorry you went through that.” The idea of losing my mom settles a lump into my throat. The thought of having to do it when I was just a kid, so entirely dependent on her for so much…it breaks me.
“But Mom was good for me. For Dad. For Charlie and Connor. The rest of my childhood was pretty idyllic. I got this job. Made some solid investment choices that set my life on a different path. Moved to Boston. Met Eliz—” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Elizabeth.”
Speaking the name almost kills him. His voice tightens. Lowers. He has to force it into the conversation. He doesn’t sound like someone who isn’t interested in love. He says her name like someone who’s loved deeply.
And lost.
I wait for him. Sitting quietly, like I did with the kittens, letting him see that I’m not here to take more than he’s ready to give.
“Elizabeth, she…uh…she died too.” Garrett’s eyes meet mine. “Car accident. I…uh…we had a fight. About…uh…” He swipes a hand over his mouth. “And…she left. Angry, you know. It was late. Weather was bad. And she…she, uh, she never came back.”
He sighs.
Eyes closed.
A complete exhalation that fails to release everything he’s carrying. I see it, heavy on his shoulders, darkness in his eyes, a hollowness settling into his chest. Two tragedies. Two women he loved, dying the same way. Taken from him. Stolen long before he was ready to let go.
I see now why he’s so closed off. Why he pushes people away. He’s afraid to let people in because he’s already loved and lost.
Garrett traces a finger along my shoulder.
“And ever since then, since that, since…her…I, well, I see life differently. I get mad at things that don’t bother other people.
I don’t trust everyone to be who they pretend to be.
And I see a therapist who congratulates me for simple stuff like getting through a day without losing my shit.
” He clears his throat and forces a smile.
“So, there it is. Garrett Cooper in a nutshell. Do with it what you will.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” I cup his cheek. Press my forehead to his. There’s more to the story, but I won’t push for it. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. I’m just grateful he was willing to connect that much.
Garrett clears his throat. Clenches his jaw. The vulnerability leaves his eyes and is replaced by something…uncomfortable.
It’s nearly time to leave for the airport.
This magical moment outside of time is almost over and we’ll never be together like this again.
I can feel it in my bones. I need to ask Garrett about the contracts.
I need to refocus on why we’re here in the first place, but I don’t want to bring this whole thing crashing down around me.
“Come back to the Keys with me.” The words are out before I knew what I wanted to say.
Garrett looks surprised, then frowns. “Angel…”
He’s going to turn me down. I can see it.
I hurry ahead before he can. “You can stay at The Hut, or you can stay with me. But…don’t go home.”
This is the man who admitted from the start he’s not interested in relationships.
He just told me he struggles to trust people.
I’m already afraid I’ve pushed him too far and yet, and yet, I can’t help myself.
I’m not ready for this to be over and after we make our way back to our respective homes, that’s it. Whatever this is? Done.
Maybe I’m being greedy, but I’ve never done something just for me. Never. Not once in my life. Every choice I’ve made has been about what’s best for the family. What’s best for the business. And Garrett? He feels like what’s best for me. It’s time to accept that.
“Okay.” He nods, looking as surprised by his response as I was by my question.
I sit up straighter. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll…I’ll look into switching flights.”
A reprieve.
That’s what this is. A reprieve. We don’t have to say goodbye. Not yet. Not now.
“That makes me so happy!” I’m up and moving, propelled off the bed by excitement, then stop, cup his face, and kiss him deeply.
“I’ll call The Hut and get you a room. It’s probably better if you stay there instead of with me.
You know. Optics.” I shrug. “I’ll tell Dad we’re working out some details or… or something.”
My dad’s a smart man and if he’s paying attention at all, he’ll know something is off, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Dad won’t like it. Not at first. But he’ll understand. He always does.
And if he doesn’t?
That’s a bridge we’ll cross if we get there.