Blaise stood in the doorway. He wore black pants and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He rushed toward her and sat on the edge of the bed.
She must have missed a tear or two because he ran his finger down her cheek before lowering his arm. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
His endearment felt like a caress. One that made her sob.
“You hired me to do a job, and I’m sick.” The words fell out. “I have to stay here and can’t take care of myself. I can’t do anything.”
“You’re sick.” His voice remained steady. “That’s not your fault.”
“I haven’t showered. I keep coughing. Now, I’m crying. This isn’t like me at all. I’m a h-hot mess.”
“No, you’re perfect the way you are.” He sounded sincere.
She glanced up at Blaise to find him staring at her. “Not perfect, but I do my best.”
He smiled, the soft curve of his mouth made her wish she didn’t look like one of the walking dead. Except she did, and if she were him, she’d fire herself and hire someone more professional.
Her shoulders drooped.
Feeling like a failure, she stared at the comforter.
“You go far beyond doing your best,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m supposed to have everything under control, but I haven’t even opened my planner today or checked my email or—”
“You have pneumonia.” He glanced at the other side of the bed. “Hang on a minute.”
Blaise reached over her legs, picked up her lunch tray, and carried it to the dresser.
Feeling cold, she pulled up the comforter.
He returned to the bed. “Scoot over.”
She did.
He sat next to Hadley, put his arm around her, and pulled her toward him. “This is better. Now, where were we?”
Playing space heater? His warmth surrounded her. She fought the urge to press against him, soak up his strength, cuddle.
She couldn’t forget—client.
“I remember. Pneumonia,” he said finally. “If you’re this sick and able to work, then you’d be an anomaly. One we’d need to replicate.”
She sighed, only to have to cough again. “I’m not used to feeling this way.”
He studied her—his face pinching and his gaze intensifying. “You remind me of myself.”
That was the last thing Hadley expected to hear. She stared at him through her eyelashes. “How?”
“You take care of people. Your sister. Your niece and nephew. Your assistant. Your clients.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Yes, but you can be a caretaker and still allow someone to take care of you, too.” His earnest gaze matched his expression. “Wanting or needing help doesn’t mean you failed or are weak. It only means you’re human.”
Hadley let his words sink in. Blaise didn’t seem like a caretaker type, but… “Robyn takes care of you.”
He nodded. “She does an excellent job as long as I keep her out of the kitchen.”
That brought a laugh. “Robyn mentioned she wasn’t much of a cook.”
“She’s beyond horrible. That’s why I have a chef, too,” Blaise explained. “When I was interviewing, I thought I’d hire one person to do everything, but once I met Robyn, I knew she was special. She didn’t act or dress like the other applicants. The first thing she said to me during our interview was she smelled mold and, no matter who I hired, they needed to take care of it right away or I could suffer long-term health consequences.”
“Was there mold?” Hadley asked.
“In the guest bathroom.” He sounded amused.
“So are there other people in your life like Robyn?”
“Yes.”
Hadley wanted to know more. “Who?
“Mr. Penney, a math teacher, and Coop, a custodian, from my high school.”
“Good guys?”
Blaise nodded. “At times, I resented them, but I had no idea how desperately I needed them. My life was a hot mess, and they helped me. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.”
The affection in Blaise’s voice told Hadley how much those people meant to him, but he hadn’t mentioned his parents. “What about your mom and dad?”
His muscles tightened, and his breath stilled. The only movement, if she could call it that, was the rapid beating of his heart.
“Blaise?” she asked.
“I… It’s…” He took a breath and then grimaced. “It’s not a pretty story.”
“Most real-life ones aren’t.” She leaned into his side, laying her arm across his chest. “I’d like to hear it if you wouldn’t mind telling me.”
He twirled the ends of her hair with his finger.
Physically she couldn’t be any closer to him without scooting onto his lap, but his silence seemed to push them further apart.
“My parents were drug addicts.” His voice cracked. “Heroin. It started when I was eight and went on for ten years.”
His caretaker comment suddenly made sense. “You took care of them.”
He nodded with a faraway, almost haunted, look in his eyes. “Thank goodness my mom had inherited my grandmother’s house or we would have ended up homeless. As it was, there never was much food, but at least we had a place to call home. Though, when their sketchy friends came over to party, I took off for the night. Those people scared me.”
Hadley tried to compare what his childhood must have been like to his life now. Tried and failed. “Where did you go?”
“Wherever they weren’t.” He half laughed.
The tortured sound made her cuddle closer. She wanted to do something—anything—to comfort him.
“I begged them to go to rehab, but they said no. They didn’t want to help themselves.” Blaise took a breath and then blew it out. “I did what I could. Worked odd jobs until I was old enough to hold a regular one so we could buy groceries, but I had to keep the money hidden from them.”
Hearing the resignation in his voice broke her heart. She hugged him. “They were lucky to have you as a son.”
Blaise shrugged, but his expression was the opposite of indifferent. He tried to turn away from her, but she wouldn’t let him. “They loved heroin more than they ever loved me.”
The rawness of his words broke her heart. “Blaise…”
“It’s the truth.” His words were stilted yet dripped with emotion. His eyebrows squeezed together, a deep V forming above the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t want to believe it then. But, I know that now.”
“I wish you hadn’t experienced that.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“Thank you.” He pulled her so she was half on top of him. “Do you mind?”
Hadley didn’t know if he needed the closeness or the warmth or to just know he wasn’t alone. “It’s fine. Nice.”
And it was.
Despite the circumstances.
She rubbed her hand over his heart, not wanting to push him to tell her more, imagining a younger version of him when he’d had to take care of the two people who were supposed to care for and love him unconditionally.
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away.
“My mom OD’d when I was seventeen. The same thing happened to my dad two weeks after my eighteenth birthday.”
She gasped. “They’re both—”
“Dead.” The word reverberated through the room. “Heroin killed the people they’d once been long before their hearts stopped beating.”
Hadley tightened her hold on him.
Blaise kissed the top of her head.
The sweet gesture melted her heart. He’d overcome overwhelming odds to succeed.
Incredible.
“The only blessing, if you want to call it that, was my age.” He twirled her hair again. “I was old enough that foster care wasn’t an option.”
“But still…”
“It sucked,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. His gaze met hers. “You called yourself a ho
t mess, but you’re not. Trust me, I know. I was one back then.”
“You didn’t let it stop you.”
“I couldn’t.” He sniffled.
She touched his face, rubbing her palm against his beard.
“The school’s scholarship fund paid for an SAT test. I knew I’d only get one shot, so I aced it because college was my way out.”
Pride and respect for Blaise quadrupled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Mr. Penney helped me apply to college and found scholarships that I could qualify for. Coop helped me fix up the house so I could rent it while I was at school. He told me to sell it, but I couldn’t. It was my only link to my parents, good or bad. I held on to it until I needed money to start Blai$e.” He snickered. “A little bit ironic.”
“No, smart,” she countered. “You survived. Thrived. And look at what you’ve accomplished. Thank you for telling me.”
“Only Mr. Penney, Coop, and an overpriced therapist know as much as you do.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I won’t say a word, but why haven’t you told the guys? You’re all so close.”
Blaise’s jaw jutted forward. His muscles bunched tighter. “I don’t want their pity.”
“Oh, Blaise.” She embraced him once again. The man was brilliant, but he had it all wrong. Somehow, she needed to make him see that. “Pity is the last thing I feel for you. Try respect, admiration, awe. What you overcame is as, or more, impressive than the company you built. There’s no reason to hide your past.”
He said nothing, but the way he blinked suggested he was considering what she’d said.
“Maybe I’ll tell them.” His eyes brightened. “After I win the bet.”
That made her laugh. This man was dangerous in so many ways. Did he know that?
“Thanks for listening,” he said.
“You had the hard part.” Hadley expected him to let go of her, but he didn’t. That brought more relief than it should, but she didn’t care. She wanted this time with him. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I should go.”
“You need to work?”
“You need to sleep,” he said a beat after her.
Hadley didn’t want this closeness with him to end. “I could sleep nicely just like this.”
Blaise hadn’t loosened his hold on her. “Me, too.”
She wanted to ask him to stay. She wanted to remain in his arms. She wanted to kiss him.
No kissing clients.
That was her rule.
One she wanted to break for the very first time.
Hadley coughed. That reminded her of another reason she couldn’t kiss Blaise—pneumonia.
“Will you be back?” Hadley hated how breathless and desperate she sounded, but she couldn’t help it.
“Of course.” He let go of her so she moved off him. “So rest up. We can watch a movie.”
Anticipation flowed through her. “Do you enjoy action-adventure or sci-fi?”
“I was thinking my matchmaker might enjoy a sweet rom-com.”
Her heart swelled. “Oh, those are my favorites.”
“I had a feeling they might be.” He kissed her forehead before climbing off the bed. “See you soon.”
Her skin tingled at the point of contact. Grinning, she wiggled her toes underneath the comforter. “I’m looking forward to it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On Wednesday afternoon in his office, Blaise sat at his desk, trying to concentrate. He read the same paragraph twice, but he didn’t remember one word. Not wanting to waste more time, he closed his laptop. He hated being distracted, which he’d been for days. Okay, since his trip to San Francisco over two weeks ago.
His knee bounced. His muscles twitched.
The rolling feeling in his stomach wouldn’t stop.
This wasn’t like him.
He needed to relax.
Closing his eyes, Blaise imagined the one person who might be able to settle him—Hadley. Picturing her, he inhaled, held his breath, and then exhaled. He repeated that two more times before opening his eyes.
A little better.
If only he were with her now.
He missed Hadley.
But he had one place to go before driving home.
Unfortunately.
He slumped in his chair, wishing the day were over. That it were Monday again, and he’d stopped himself from entering the guest bedroom to comfort...
No, he wouldn’t change a thing with Hadley.
Cracking open his heart and spilling his soul to her had rocked Blaise to his core, but telling Hadley about his past had been the right move. He knew that with pulse-pounding certainty.
The way she’d held on to him had given Blaise strength to continue, to find more closure, something missing for too long. He couldn’t change his past, but he also couldn’t allow himself to be ashamed by what happened.
It wasn’t his fault.
He knew—had known—that logically.
His parents hadn’t been forced to try drugs. They’d chosen to take them. Not once, but over and over again. That choice had led to a disease—an addiction they couldn’t beat.
Blaise had done what he could, as a kid and as a teenager, to help, but their answer to him had always been the same when he’d wanted them to get help.
I can’t.
Except he’d heard something different all those years ago.
I can’t because you’re not worthy of my love.
I can’t because you’re not a good enough son.
I can’t because you’re not as important as the drugs.
After talking with Hadley the other night, however, his heart finally understood and embraced the truth. His parents had said I can’t, but he was the one who had filled in the blanks back then. No longer.
Not. His. Fault.
The three simple words lifted the two-ton weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying all these years. He had also learned something else.
He’d made a wrong decision, one that had been shadowing and mocking him for years. Keeping the past bottled up wasn’t helping him. Refusing to share what happened with even his closest friends had fixed nothing. But telling Hadley…
Her easy acceptance, the way she’d praised him, gave him a sense of peace that had eluded him for too long.
After turning off her television and telling her goodnight later that Monday night, he’d stayed awake. He’d thought about her, his mom and his dad, and himself.
Maybe Blaise feeling like an outsider was his perception colored by his past, not reality. Maybe he should trust his friends with more of his story, not assume how they would react and reject him. Maybe he need to chill.
On Tuesday, Blaise had called his once-former high-priced therapist’s office and made an appointment. Now he was freaking out. He could reschedule. People—patients—did that all the time.
Blaise considered it, but he wasn’t stupid. Postponing would only delay the inevitable. He needed to go. He just hadn’t imagined Dr. Alvarez adding an appointment slot so he could speak with Blaise.
Today.
In less than an hour.
He flexed his fingers to keep them from curling into fists.
His phone buzzed, a welcome relief from the silence. Maybe his appointment was being rescheduled.
Wishful thinking.
More like hopeful.
He grabbed his phone off the desk. Text messages filled the screen. None from Dr. Alvarez’s office. One, however, caught Blaise’s attention.
Robyn: Hadley feels up to sitting in the family room so I’m making her a bed on the couch. Should I wait to serve her dinner or are you working late?
Blaise: Wait. I’ll be home on time.
Robyn: Working from home on Monday. Now dinner at home for the second night in a row? Methinks Hadley is good for you.
Blaise: Possibly.
Robyn: That means you agree. See you later.
Did he agree?
Blaise scratch
ed his neck. He enjoyed spending time with Hadley and wanted to get to know her better. His attraction to her grew each time they were together. Which had been a lot this week. But the feelings went deeper than the physical. That was unexpected. He’d like to claim unwelcome, but he wasn’t sure because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so close to anyone as he did with Hadley.
Not that how he felt mattered.
He’d hired her.
To win the bet, not to fall in love himself.
Wait.
Love wasn’t an option. It wasn’t on the table.
He scrubbed his hands over his face.
She worked for him. They’d become friends.
Yeah, friends.
Nothing else.
“Blaise,” Trevor said from the doorway. His crooked tie and tired eyes suggested the guy must still be having issues with the database system. “You mentioned leaving at three thirty. It’s almost time.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” As Blaise packed his laptop in his bag, he noticed Trevor lean against the doorjamb. “Take the rest of the afternoon off.”
Trevor’s eyes widened. “Really?”
His disbelief in that one word shocked Blaise. Was he that demanding a boss? He remembered what a board member had told him about the difference between honey versus vinegar leadership styles. Blaise used the latter, but he was willing to experiment with the other. “Yes.”
Trevor straightened, relief pouring from him. “I, uh, thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You, too.” Blaise left the office, more in a hurry than he should be, given where he was going. But the sooner he spoke to Dr. Alvarez, the sooner Blaise could go home.
He wanted to be there already.
A delicious dinner to fill his stomach, a silly movie to make him laugh, and his friend, Hadley, to keep him company.
It would be another good night. He had a feeling he might need it.
* * *
Hours later, after surviving the appointment and making another for next week, Blaise sat on the couch next to Hadley. Covered by a throw, she leaned against a pillow. He would have preferred her resting on him in her bed like the past two nights where they’d watched movies.
But this was less intimate with a bowl of popcorn, a cup of hot herbal tea for her, and a bottle of beer for him.
The Wife Finder Page 14
