Chapter Twenty-One
“When Blake’s father passed, I was sure I’d fall to pieces.
” Mrs. Marlin takes a sip of her wine, staring thoughtfully out at the garden she clearly loves and tends for all she’s worth.
“I did for a little while. At least the kids were old enough that they could take care of themselves—for the most part.”
“Nobody could blame you for that, Mrs. Marlin.”
“Sara, please.” She smiles, glancing my way. “If I can call you Kitty, you can call me by my first name.
“I think it affected Blake harder than Britt. He and his father had had a talk near the end. I know my husband didn’t feel he left much behind for us.
His plant had closed down when the economy tanked, and he was never the same.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Blake became obsessed with wealth after that. ”
“You think it was all because he’d lost his father?”
“And his father felt like a failure. Yes, I think that played a big part—though, of course, he’d never admit that. And I would never breathe a word of it.”
“Neither would I,” I whisper. And I won’t. But this gives me some much-needed insight into Blake. Now, I understand what drove him to be the best. I can use that for my hero.
Jeez, am I seriously thinking about my book right now? Here I am, accusing Blake of not being able to separate himself from work …
“Thank you for having me here tonight,” I murmur, and I mean it with all my heart. I can hear Blake and Britt laughing as they wash dishes inside, teasing the way brothers and sisters do. He sounds younger here, happier. “It’s so beautiful. I love hearing Blake laugh so much too.”
“So do I. It’s been a long time since he found a girl worthy of bringing home.”
Ouch. No pressure or anything.
“He even left his phone out here,” Sara notices, nodding to where the device sits on the table in front of us.
“Wow. That never happens,” I marvel.
“I know. The fact that he’s able to do that after taking the time out to bring you here gives me hope.”
“Sara …”
“Don’t worry.” She smiles; she’s wise in the way only a mother can be. “I’m not dreaming about grandchildren just yet. Though it would be nice. But he can’t be an easy man to date. I give you credit.”
Ouch again. Is this a trap? I guess she’s not the sort of person to lay traps—though who knows?
“He’s very busy. I wish he’d take more time for himself. Not for me. For him.”
“I’m hoping he’ll start doing more of that now that the two of you are seeing each other,” she muses, swirling the wine in her glass.
I don’t have the heart to tell her he’s already blown me off more than once.
It’s like the stinking phone knows we were talking about it because it rings a moment later.
“Blake!” I say, my heart sinking as I reach for it. “Your phone’s ringing!”
“My hands are soaked,” he calls out through the half-open window. “Can you grab it?”
“Wow,” I whisper, eyes wide. Sara chuckles as I answer, “Hello? Blake Marlin’s phone.”
A silent pause.
“Who’s this?” says a woman’s voice.
“This is a friend of Blake’s. He’s on his way to the phone right now.”
Another pause.
“Kitty? Is this Kitty?” The way she says my name, it might as well be obscene.
“It is.” I exchange a look with Sara, who shrugs. “But not for much longer. He’s on his way.”
“Where is he? Where are you? He’s been unreachable for most of the day, and I’ve spent my entire Sunday trying to put out a fire for him. Would you like to take over the job of being his assistant? Because honestly, I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
“I … don’t feel comfortable with this conversation,” I announce, my hand tightening around the phone. “This isn’t any of my business.”
“But it is because he’s been a basket case since the two of you met at that conference. I was there. I saw it happen.”
Right. This is the girl who reminded Blake of his schedule while he was helping me. She struck me as harried and irritated. I can imagine why.
But still.
“I don’t make decisions for him,” I remind her. “He does that on his own. If you have a problem with the way he’s been lately, he’s the one to take that up with. Not me.”
“What’s going on?” Blake’s by my side now, frowning deeply. “Who is that?”
“Give him the phone,” the girl snaps.
I give him the phone before turning away, trembling. “I don’t like conflict, especially with people I don’t know,” I whisper to Sara, who pats my shoulder.
“That was uncalled for,” she murmurs. “I think he heard enough of it to know what was going on. That girl won’t have a job for long.”
“It’s my fault.”
“It’s not. She shouldn’t have thrown her problems at you like that. If Blake doesn’t fire her, I’ll be disappointed in him.” She turns her head toward Blake, who’s walking the length of the garden and barking instructions into the phone. “Something tells me the night just came to an end.”
“I’m awfully sorry.” And I am. This has been really nice, much nicer than I imagined when I found out where we were going.
“So am I, sweetie.” She stands when Blake approaches us. “Leaving so soon?”
“How did you know?” His shoulders are around his ears, his hands clenched in fists. “Sorry for the sudden departure.”
“I’ve heard that before.” She sounds so sad, almost as sad as I feel for all of us.
It’s not until we’re on the jet that I even dare to ask what happened—asking while he drove us to the jet didn’t seem like a hot idea. “Is there a problem I need to know about? Because your assistant seemed really mad at me.”
“She’s not my assistant anymore. I have to train a new one. Just one more thing to do.” He leans back in his seat with a sigh. “I need a drink.”
“I’ll fix you one,” I offer, eyeing the drink cart.
“No, that’s okay. You’re not my employee. I thought tonight was going so well before that happened too.”
“So did I. It was going well. I love your mom and Britt. They’re great.”
“They loved you too. I knew they would.” Though he’s not smiling. He’s only speaking the words. He’s not feeling them right now.
“Is there something big going on? With your business, I mean. Is that why she was so upset that she couldn’t reach you?”
“There’s always something big going on. You should be used to that by now.”
“Um, I am—somewhat.” Here we go again, with him being in a bad mood and taking it out on me. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“But you realize you can’t keep me closed out forever—me or anybody else you’re dating. You know that, right? Because no matter how much you want to keep your work and personal life separate, it’ll never happen when work is such a huge part of your life.”
“Enough, okay? I don’t need this from you right now.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, sitting up straighter. My ears practically perk up, like an animal sensing a challenge. “I didn’t do anything to earn this. I’m worried about you, is all, and it annoys me when I see things getting to you this way.”
“Annoys you?” he asks, arching one eyebrow.
“For your sake,” I sigh, rolling my eyes.
“Because you were actually happy for a little while there, and now, you’re miserable all over again.
Angry. Your shoulders are up here.” I hunch them up to mimic the way his currently sit.
“You were laughing with Britt just a minute before you took the phone. It was beautiful. Now? You’re a mess. ”
“Please, keep heaping it on me,” he groans. “Make me feel worse. Add to my stress.”
“You’re right. I’m not allowed to care. I’m supposed to walk around with my mouth hanging open, amazed at how wonderful your life is.
I’m not supposed to have an opinion, and I’m definitely not supposed to care anything about you.
” I charge out of my seat and wish like heck I could leave the plane, but of course, that’s not an option.
Instead, I settle for slamming myself into a seat across from Blake, folding my arms and swinging one leg back and forth after crossing it over the other. He spends the rest of the flight making terse phone calls. I might as well not be here.
How does this keep happening?
How many clues do I need dropped in my lap before I figure out that this is never going to work?