Nights With Parker

by Tribue,Alice

  “It’s nice to meet you, Riley. I’m Carla.”

  “Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

  Jacob comes to stand behind his mother and places a hand on her shoulder. It’s not controlling; it’s more of a comforting touch. He gives me a warm smile.

  “Nice to see you again, Riley.”

  I nod and smile back at him. This is odd. I don’t know what to make of any of it. They all seem perfectly fine with me being here, and I start to believe that maybe Oliver’s father wasn’t telling me the truth about his engagement. I try not to get my hopes up. Instead, I focus on getting through tonight.

  “I made dinner. It’s nothing fancy, but I thought y’all might be hungry by the time you got back.”

  “That’s so sweet of you.” Carla smiles at me. “Would you like me to help you with anything?”

  “No, ma’am, it’s not trouble at all,” I say breaking out of Oliver’s hold and heading into the kitchen. He follows behind me going to one of the cabinets and taking out enough plates for everyone. He grabs silverware out of a drawer and begins to set the table in the adjacent dining room. I grab the serving dishes that I found earlier and begin to set out the food.

  “I’ll grab some wine. You sit, Mom,” I hear Jacob say. It’s good that she has sons who care about her, I think to myself. I was glad I was able to be that for my mother when Dad died. I’d hate to think of her dealing with his death and everything that came afterward on her own.

  Oliver comes up next to me, grabs some of the dishes, and carries them out to the dining room. I follow behind him with the chicken and place it in the center of the table with the rest of the food. We have an easy dynamic between us, almost natural, which is yet another thought I try to push out of my head. Oliver doesn’t strike me as the domestic type.

  He pulls out the chair next to his, and I take a seat.

  “Everything looks wonderful, Riley,” Carla says. I thank her, and Oliver gives my knee a squeeze after taking the seat next to mine. It’s his way of giving me praise, and I shouldn’t like it, but I do. The conversation is light as everyone fills their plates and begins to eat. They all compliment me on the meal I’ve prepared and ask me a little bit about myself. I tell them what I can, but there’s not really much to know. My life has been in a holding pattern since my father’s illness and death, and I’m nowhere close to where I thought I would be at this point in my life.

  “I know why you boys insisted on bringing me here tonight,” Carla says with her eyes on Oliver. She gives him a tender smile then shifts her gaze to Jacob.

  “I never wanted either of you to know, so if you’re blaming yourself, don’t,” she tells him, and I don’t know whether to feel discomfort for having to be here for such a private family moment or honored that she would share it in front of me.

  Jacob grabs her hand and gives it a squeeze.

  “I should have known. There’s no excuse for ignorance.”

  “Jacob.”

  “Don’t, Mom,” Oliver interrupts, and all eyes land on him. “Jacob needs to feel what he needs to feel, and that isn’t on you. What we need you to do is to focus on yourself and your safety.”

  “I’m leaving in the morning for Florida,” she announces, before taking a sip of her wine.

  “What?” Jacob asks, looking confused. I turn my head slightly to look at Oliver, but his eyes are locked on his mother, his expression serious.

  “I’ve spoken to Caroline, and she’s agreed that I should come out and stay with her for some time.”

  “The sister you haven’t seen in years?” Oliver pipes in. “Why would you do that when you have us? I told you, you could come back to Savannah with me for the time being.”

  “Well, that’s a temporary fix, isn’t it, sweetheart? Eventually, you’ll come back to New York, and then what? I haven’t seen Caroline in ten years, but that’s only because she and your father never got along. I think it’s time for her and I to rebuild our relationship, and she agrees.”

  “Mom,” Oliver says, with a sense of urgency in his voice and a hint of fear. “What if he comes after you?”

  “You know him better than that. Anything that would make him look weak is unacceptable. Your father’s a man of appearances. He’ll put his own spin on my leaving, one that makes him look like a saint, and I don’t care.”

  “What about money?” Jacob asks.

  “She has us,” Oliver responds for her.

  “You’re sweet, but I don’t need your money. You forget that I came from money. I have money in places he can never touch, and before I married him, my father made him sign an iron-clad prenup.”

  Looking at them all, I see a mixture of relief and sadness and an unmistakable amount of love. As dinner progresses, I get to see more of Oliver’s relationship with his mother. How easy it is, how comfortable they are together. It’s more of a struggle for Jacob, but by the end of the night, even he’s made a considerable amount of progress in mending his relationship with his mother and brother. Oliver never leaves my side, sitting next to me or standing near me the entire evening.

  By night’s end, I feel a strange sense of closeness to them all. The way they’ve treated me and included me in their personal conversations make me feel like I’m welcome, like I’m one of them. Neither of her sons wants Carla to go home before catching her morning flight to Florida, but after she helps me clear the table and take care of the dishes, Jacob insists she come spend the night at his house. I think it was his way of making sure that Oliver and I got some alone time, even though I think that’s the last thing we need. I’m coming to find that my desire for him overpowers my logical mind, and if he touches me, I know I’ll falter.

  I’m giving myself a mental pep talk about being strong and not allowing Oliver to influence me when he walks out of the bathroom. Thankfully, he’s wearing pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. God only knows I can’t remain strong while he’s shirtless.

  “You’ve managed to wrap my mother around your little finger,” he comments, walking farther into the room.

  I smile. “She’s amazing.”

  He nods and takes a seat at the foot of the bed. He studies me for a beat before opening his mouth to speak.

  “Is there something on your mind, Riley?”

  “Are you engaged?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. It’s like watching an accident about to happen and being powerless to prevent it. I know that I said that I wouldn’t let him see how bothered I was by what his father told me, but who was I kidding. I’m sleeping with the man, for God’s sake, even if it’s only because of the deal we made. But I never agreed to be the woman he cheats on another woman with.

  “What? Why would you ask me that?”

  “Who’s Stephanie?” I accuse. He takes a deep breath, looking up as if he were praying for patience and failing miserably.

  “I see you’ve met my father,” he bites out, standing up to grab his phone. He begins to tap out a message.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure that my father knows you’re off-limits.” He tosses the phone on the bed and takes a few steps in my direction. “I don’t like that he was in your presence at all.”

  I don’t know what to make of his reaction. I know what I want the truth to be, but I need to hear it from him.

  “I know you probably think it’s none of my business, Oliver, but …”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “What?” I ask, and he takes a seat on the bed again, even closer to me this time. Our undeniable attraction is palpable, but I’m scared that it’s one-sided. I’m fearful that he’ll never feel for me the way I feel for him.

  “Why would you say I’d think my being engaged is none of your business? We’re sleeping together, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, of course,” I unnecessarily confirm as my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “But only because of the deal we made.”

  “Seems that I’m surrounded by oblivious people,” he mutters jus
t under his breath.

  “What?”

  He shakes his head and releases another frustrated sigh.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “Your daddy came by here.” I shrug my shoulders, signaling not much more to the story. I don’t need to tell him that his daddy is a condescending asshole because I’m fairly certain he already knows. “He wanted to see you.”

  “Did you tell him where I was?”

  “No. I told him that you were checking in on your office.”

  “Smart girl.” He praises me with an amused grin. This only serves to piss me the fuck off; I’m not sure what could be so amusing about this conversation. “What else happened?”

  “Nothing,” I seethe because I don’t give a fuck about his daddy and don’t care what he said or did. There’s only one topic of discussion I want to engage in, and I’m not going to be happy until I have my answer. “He told me you were engaged to Stephanie.”

  “Riley,” he calls, but I don’t respond. Instead, I fidget with the hem of my tank top and avoid making eye contact. I don’t need him to see just how upset I am, angry by his nonchalance, and hurt by the possibility that there’s any truth to his daddy’s claim. “Riley, look at me.”

  It’s a command. I know he means business, and rather than make this situation any worse, I do as he asks.

  “I’m not engaged to Stephanie,” he says, and I believe him. I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me, or the tone of his voice, but it’s like he needs me to believe in him, pleading with me to believe in him.

  “So you’re not engaged, but are you seeing her?”

  He chuckles at my question, but it’s not that he’s laughing at me. It’s more of him finding some sense of irony in the situation.

  “No. I’m not seeing Stephanie, though my father and her parents would love her to be my choice.”

  “You’re not attracted to her?” I probe, trying to get as much information as I can.

  “She’s a childhood friend. Our families are close, and we grew up together. She comes from money, I come from money ... it’s a match made in heaven for everyone except for us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think of her as a sister, and I have no desire to be intimate with someone who I consider family. Besides, she’s in love with someone else.”

  “But she lets her family think there’s hope for you and her?”

  “Yes. Because it’s easier than telling them she’s in love with a man who they would never approve of.”

  “Why wouldn’t they approve?”

  “Because he’s not rich, Riley. It’s as simple as that. Her family is so completely caught up in their obnoxious social circles that they don’t care about what Stephanie actually wants. Appearances are everything to them, and the man she’s in love with doesn’t measure up.”

  “That’s awful,” I say, feeling sad for her and for myself too. Sad because I would never measure up, either. I’d never be a suitable match for someone like Oliver, and he wouldn’t want me anyway.

  “Have I satisfied your curiosity?”

  “Yes, but I was only curious because I am not okay with sleeping with a man who’s attached to someone else.”

  “So noted.”

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Riley.” Just hearing the effortless way my name falls from his lips causes a pang in my chest. A sense of sorrow overcomes me because I’d want to hear it every day for the rest of my life. Hear him call my name so effortlessly, as if it were second nature for him to do it. But that’s not mine to have. Eventually, he’ll find someone suitable, someone who lives within the lifestyle that he’s accustomed to, and he’ll give that to her, and it will be permanent. Not like this extended version of temporary we’re caught up in.

  “Whatever my father said to you, whatever nonsense he spewed to you, please don’t take it to heart. Nothing he says matters.”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t matter because he was under the impression that we’re more than what we are.”

  “Maybe we are more.”

  “What?”

  “I said maybe we are more. This feels like more.”

  “But we have an arrangement.”

  “Yes, we do, but it’s one that’s easily amendable, don’t you think?”

  “Amendable?”

  “Or I can just absolve you from our deal,” he says with a smirk. His arm snakes around my waist, and before I can protest, I find myself in his lap.

  “What are you saying?” I whisper, half confused, half hopeful.

  “What if we just forget about our arrangement and spend time together because we want to,” he suggests, and I can’t believe he’s actually suggested it. I can’t understand what he could possibly gain from changing the terms now. It doesn’t make any sense, and I do not attempt to hide my confusion.

  “Like … date?”

  “Sure,” he answers hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than an answer.

  “What are you even saying?” I ask again, this time raising my voice. I’m frustrated and tired, and I don’t like feeling like a pawn in some game he’s playing. “You just wanted to have sex with me. That’s all this ever was. This was never about feelings for you,” I counter, full of skepticism, because things like this don’t just happen. Men don’t just decide with the snap of a finger to go from thinking of a girl as a glorified booty call to a potential girlfriend. He glares at me, as if I’m wrong for saying what I did.

  “Why is it so easy for you to think that I’m a cold, unfeeling person?”

  “Because you are!” I half yell, irrationally, even if I know better, even if I’ve seen the caring side of him, at times with me, and tonight, with his mother. He loses the glower, and instead, he chuckles, giving a strand of my hair a gentle tug.

  “I’m not. I just don’t have a ton of patience, I can admit that.”

  I let out an exhausted sigh. I want to believe. Again, I want to believe in him so badly, want to believe that he wants to put an end to our arrangement and try for something real. But is it really possible to change the dynamic of a relationship so easily? In just the course of a single night, could we go from being nothing to something? I want to have confidence in that, but the pragmatist in me, the side of me that knows pain and disappointment intimately, won’t let me.

  “What’s the point in us dating, Oliver?” I ask with a shake of my head. “You don’t want a relationship.”

  His arms give me a squeeze and a surge of warmth radiates through me. My body reacts to him. Every. Single. Time. It never seems to fail.

  “How do you know what I want?”

  “Fair enough,” I concede, “but even if you did, you live here. Your time in Savannah is limited, and we both know that.”

  “Then let’s enjoy the time we have, and if there’s something to figure out later, then we’ll figure it out when we get there, Riley. We don’t have to overcomplicate anything.”

  Easy for him to say. Easy for him to say that he wants me but not offer me anything concrete. But maybe he is offering me something; maybe it’s the best he has to give. And I’m treating it like it’s not good enough because it doesn’t come with a guaranteed forever. But forever is never guaranteed, is it? Everything comes with an expiration date; even forever comes to an end at some point.

  “What about my mother?”

  “What about her?”

  “Are you going to fire her?”

  “No.”

  “What if I don’t want to date you or continue our arrangement?”

  “Then I’ll fire her.”

  “Oliver,” I yell, not able to believe him.

  “I’m kidding, Riley. I’m willing to let you walk away if that’s what you want. Your mother’s job will be safe.”

  “Really?” I ask quietly, hopeful that he really is someone worth getting to know. That he’s actually caring enough to think of my feelings. I know I should just say no. I should
walk away from him when we get back to Savannah. I should forget about him and move on with my life, spare myself the inevitable pain, but something about him draws me to him.

  “Really,” he says, leaning in and placing a kiss on my forehead. Our eyes lock, and that pull is there—it’s always there.

  “But you don’t want to walk away. Do you?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t,” he says, just before claiming my lips in a heated kiss. It’s different from earlier—less urgent but more passionate. It’s as if the entire world has slowed down and all that makes sense is what’s happening right here, right now. An almost magical feeling surrounds us, and when he makes love to me just as slowly and passionately, it feels like for the first time in a long time, I have a chance to get exactly what I want.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  OLIVER

  “We’ve begun our initial descent and will be landing in Savannah in thirty minutes, Mr. Parker. Thank you for flying with us.”

  The captain’s voice comes over the loudspeaker, pulling my attention away from the laptop where I’ve been finalizing the schedule for the Savannah hotel’s completion. Two to three months. That’s all the time I have to spend with Riley before I’m off to London. I look over at her asleep in the chair next to mine and wonder if I’ve made a mistake in telling her that we could become more than what we started out as. Not because I don’t want more or that I don’t want to give her that, but because more seems like just another impossible thing to achieve. It’s a promise I’ll have to break because time isn’t exactly on our side.

  In the three days we spent in New York, I witnessed Riley begin to open up around me, acting less guarded and hesitant. She accompanied me to breakfast with Jacob and my mother before she caught her flight to Florida. I showed her around New York, took her to some of our museums and landmarks, and I was surprised that she actually seemed to enjoy herself. She even asked if I would be willing to catch a Broadway play with her, something that she really wanted to do. Needless to say, I made sure I got her the best seats in the house, and it was worth every penny.