Unwritten

by Kiki Hamilton

That surprised me. Mr. Jock seemed young to be somebody’s business partner. “What business?”

  “The family hardware store.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice.

  “You don’t approve, I take it?” She looked away forcing me to lean forward to hear her.

  “It was just a surprise, that’s all. Hey.” She turned back and looked me in the eye. “I’m glad you showed up because I wanted to thank you for the book you left me in the hospital. It was a very sweet and thoughtful thing to do.” She dropped her eyes and talked to my tie. “And also for staying and taking care of me until my parents could get there.” Her eyes skittered back to mine, her cheeks a light shade of pink. “That was really nice of you, especially since it was Christmas.”

  I kept my face perfectly blank. “What book?”

  “You know—the one under the Christmas tree. The blank book….”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Doubt crept onto her face. “Santa is the one who leaves presents under the tree—at least, that’s what somebody told me.”

  “Ah.” Her lips curved with sudden understanding. “So that’s how it is, huh?”

  I shrugged, enjoying myself for the first time since returning to Seattle. “How’s that?”

  “Handsome and mysterious on the outside—but inside—you’ve got a candy heart.”

  I let out a short laugh. “A what?”

  “You heard me. A candy heart. So sweet you have to hide it for fear someone will break it.” She motioned toward Phil, where he stood behind home plate. “I’ll bet your brother doesn’t even know, does he?” She leaned close and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t worry, Oliver, your secrets are safe with me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was almost three o’clock on Wednesday. I’d been staring at my computer for the last thirty minutes and hadn’t written a word. The swelling around my eye had gone down, though I now had a nice combination of green and black highlights, but still, that was no excuse to procrastinate. I had to get going on this book. My agent, Caroline, had emailed and asked if I had anything new for her to read. And I had stupidly said I was halfway. Halfway to what? Writer’s hell? I shook my head at my own stupidity. What was wrong with me?

  “Focus Lexie,” I whispered, squinting at the page as if something brilliant might be hidden there among the white.

  A week had gone by since the t-ball game, but I couldn’t get Oliver out of my mind. It had been such a shock to see him—as if I’d thought of him so much I’d actually conjured him there. But my memories hadn’t done him justice. Without two black eyes he was one of those guys that you looked at twice to make sure he was as gorgeous as you thought. He was so far out of my league that I almost hadn’t felt nervous around him. Almost.

  Jessie had quizzed me about him on the way home.

  “How do you know that guy?” It was like her curiosity was tangible—fingers reaching to poke the answers out me. “He rushed over and picked you up in his arms like…I don’t know what.” She raised her hands and let them flop back to her sides. “Like he knew you.”

  I don’t know why I didn’t tell her that I’d met him in New York. It just seemed too complicated to explain and in some weird way I wanted to keep Oliver as my secret. One that no one could take from me. And really—it wasn’t like we were friends. I’d been his server, his bitchy girlfriend had gotten me fired (which I still hadn’t told my family), we’d shared a cab, got in a life-threatening wreck and spent a couple of hours in the hospital together, telling each other our darkest secrets. Then he’d left without saying goodbye. What was there to tell?

  “I think he said he was an attorney. He’s probably an ambulance-chaser trying to get another client.” Then I’d put my ear buds in and looked out the window. I didn’t want to talk about Oliver, but I did want to think about every second I’d just spent with him.

  “HEY PUNKIN, YOU’RE going to start a fire if you stare at that computer any harder.” Dad walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. He drank coffee day and night and still slept like a baby. My mom, on the other hand, could barely handle decaf. Luckily, I’d gotten his coffee genes. He leaned against the counter and faced me. “Have you thought about getting a job, Lex? Maybe focus on something besides writing for a while?”

  I could feel the guilt painted on my face, as visible as my black eye. “That’s an idea, Dad, but really, I’m not going to be here that long…who would hire me?” If he only knew how badly I needed a job. But not here –in New York. Writing was the only thing I felt passionate about—that I looked forward to doing every day. I didn’t want just any old job—to be one of those workers who trudged to the office day in and day out wishing they’d taken a leap of faith. I’d taken the leap—and now I had to make this work. I didn’t have a Plan B. Or want one.

  “I’d hire you.” He grinned at me over the top of his cup. “I need somebody at the store part-time. Why don’t you come work for me? You can decide about going back to New York in a month or two. Your apartment is paid for until the end of March—it might work out great.”

  That was my dad. Always optimistic.

  “Work for you and Ryan?” My nose curled. “I don’t think I could do that.”

  “Honey.” There was a tone in Dad’s voice. “I’m sorry if our partnership upsets you. I was worried it might and I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it, but—there never seemed a good time and—” he looked me right in the eye— “I guess I was a little afraid.”

  “Why couldn’t you have found a different investor?” My voice broke in a very betraying sort of way.

  “Lex—there’s more to it than that.”

  I waited. My sinuses felt hot which meant it was possible I could start crying at any second. There was no way he could justify what he’d done or make Ryan’s choice feel less like a profound betrayal, but I’d let him say his piece. And then I’d say no to the job offer and figure out a way to get back to New York and stay there.

  He moved over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair across from me. “Lex, I know Ryan hurt you. What he did was wrong—a mistake. The worst kind of bad judgment.” He wrapped his big hands around his cup and propped his elbows on the table. His voice was gentle.

  “But we all make mistakes sooner or later. I’ve known Ryan since he was twelve years old. He’s spent a lot of time around the store and our family.” He looked down, as if debating his words. “When Ryan got that girl pregnant—he came to me.”

  My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know that. I could see the pain on my father’s face.

  “He knew he’d made a bad choice, but she was pregnant and he had to deal with his actions. He came to me because he didn’t know what to do.”

  “Yes,” I snapped, my eyes suddenly watering, “he got her pregnant one week after we agreed to take a break. After dating for three years.”

  “I know.” My dad nodded. “It had to have been terribly painful for you.” He reached across the table and held my hand. I wanted to jerk my fingers away but out of respect for my dad, I didn’t. “But Lexie, Ryan’s choices are not your choices. Your life is your own to make what you will of it. You’re strong, Alexis, more than you realize sometimes. You don’t need Ryan to be happy.”

  He let that sink in for a minute before he continued.

  “And the one thing I will say about Ryan is that he stood up and took responsibility for his choice. He married that girl, knowing from the start that it would probably never work. He has been a good father to Dylan and he’s lived with the consequences and his own share of heartbreak.”

  I blinked. I had never considered that Ryan might have suffered heartbreak too.

  “And you know what, Lex—” Dad squeezed my fingers— “even with the tough times you’ve both been through, I don’t think he’d change the past. He loves that little boy with all his heart. As do we. What had started as a mistake is now one of his greatest blessings. When you have children of
your own, I think it might be easier to understand.”

  I avoided his eyes. Growing up, my dad had never had too many heart-to-heart talks with me. He’d shown his love in other ways—taking me fishing and golfing, watching football games together. To hear him talk about Ryan like he felt sorry for him—like he loved him as if he were part of the family—I didn’t know what to think.

  “I think it’s been harder for Ryan to grow up without having a father around than you realize, Lex. He’s taken a different route than most boys to understand what it means to be a man. A harder route. Having a stake in the store—to be part of a family that accepts him, and his mistakes and still sticks with him—that’s what this partnership is about—not about a new investor for the store.” He gave my hand one last squeeze then stood up. He rested the back of his fingers against my cheek as I stared at the table. “Maybe it’s time to mend some fences with Ryan. I hope one day, my sweet daughter, that you can understand he needed us more than you needed him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  While I had toyed briefly with the idea of looking Alexis up when I got to Seattle, I’d never intended to take the idea any further. Why would I? It never occurred to me that I might run into her in a city of four million. And at a T-ball game? Impossible.

  “Hey, Oliver.” Phil stuck his head around the door to my office Wednesday afternoon, his brown hair mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Both Phil and Nick had my father’s coloring: brown hair, fair freckled skin, hazel eyes. Me? My mom all the way: Black hair, tan skin and blue eyes. I always wondered if that was why Estelle, my stepmother, hated me so much.

  “Yeah?”

  “Just a heads up that Estelle wants to get together while you’re here.”

  I flopped back in my chair and groaned. I’d been home a week and been holding my breath hoping this wouldn’t happen. “Phil—”

  “C’mon, you haven’t seen her since the wedding—it’s been almost a year. You can make it through one dinner. You’ve known her most of your life, after all.”

  “Unfortunately.” I couldn’t help the bitterness in my tone. Estelle was a meddler. She liked to create drama and usually, she liked to be in the center of it. “It’s not because she wants to see me, Phil, and you know it. It’s a control thing with her. It always has been—it always will be.” I returned my gaze to the open file on my desk. “I refuse to be part of her game.”

  “An hour or two won’t kill you. It’ll probably be a week from Saturday.” He tapped the door frame twice. “I’ll let you know.” Then he disappeared.

  I closed my eyes and put my head in my hands. Phil was wrong. It might kill me. There wasn’t much that bothered me, but I found it excruciating to be around Estelle. I’d give just about anything not to have to attend that dinner.

  AN HOUR LATER I closed the file that I’d been reading and leaned back in my chair, propping one foot on the edge of the metal wastebasket. The contract was standard boilerplate. Mr. Jock, also known as Ryan Leeds, was investing in the West Family Partnership as a thirty percent owner in exchange for a cash payment. The West Family retained the controlling ownership and majority voting rights of the stock. The closing date was set for the end of February, just a few weeks away.

  I could still hear Ryan’s voice calling Alexis ‘babe’. Whatever their relationship might be now, it was obvious they’d known each other well in the past.

  You’ve got a candy heart. Against my will, Alexis’ voice echoed in my head. What was that supposed to mean? That I hid my heart out of fear someone might break it? Ridiculous. I frowned. Just because I wasn’t willing to throw away my life committing to marriage didn’t mean I was hiding. Marriage didn’t have a high success rate in my family. Besides, I had a girlfriend. Sort of. That was enough.

  I flipped the file open again. The client summary page had Charlie West’s contact information listed with both his home and office numbers. I stared at the home phone number. Should I call Alexis and ask her for coffee?

  I CONTINUED TO debate the question during the three hours I spent in the hospital that afternoon watching my father sleep. I’d actually entered her number in my phone, but couldn’t quite bring myself to push call. I remembered how she’d looked lying in that hospital bed when she’d told me about her fear she couldn’t write another book. Sharing secrets made us friends, didn’t it? Plus, I had saved her life, though she didn’t actually know that. Why didn’t I just call her? It wasn’t like it was a date—I was just being friendly and making sure she was okay.

  As I silently argued with myself, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. Simone’s face lit up my screen.

  “Hey, Simone.”

  “Bonjour, beautiful Oliver,” Simone purred on the other end. “Where have you been, my darling? You haven’t been answering my calls.”

  “Sorry, I was just going to call. There’s been so much craziness I lost track of time.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “I’m in Seattle. My father had a heart attack. I’m going to be here for a few weeks to help with his caseload.”

  “On no! How is your papa? Is he doing all right?”

  “Yes, he’s stabilized. They’ve put some stents in as a temporary measure and he’s scheduled for surgery next week. I wish you were here.” There—I could show emotion if I wanted. “I’m staying all alone in his big house and the hot tub works better with two.” She said something in French, of which I only caught half, but the intent was clear without a translation.

  “Where are you?” I asked. “The connection is very clear tonight.”

  “That’s because I’m not in Paris.” I could hear Simone smiling over the phone. “They moved the dates up on my modeling contract and asked me to start as soon as possible. I wanted to surprise you. I’m in New York—apartment hunting.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I wasn’t sure what to make of Dad’s big speech. I decided he was mostly telling me that Ryan was a part of the family now—with or without me. I wondered if the house burned down who he’d save first. Actually—maybe I didn’t want to know. But he had made me see the situation from a different perspective for the first time and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. My anger at Ryan was protection—like armor. What would happen if I didn’t have that armor anymore? I called Nandini.

  “Hey Chica, how are things at the restaurant?”

  “We are busy, as usual, and Richard is a serial killer. He fired two more people. Nothing new. When are you coming home? It’s boring here without you.”

  “I just have another week and the walking boot is off for good. Mom and Dad said they’d pay the rent through March, so I need to find a job before then. Let me know if you hear of anything.”

  “What is happening with your ex?” Nandini was the one and only person I’d told of my situation with Ryan. She knew that part of the reason I didn’t come home to Seattle was because of him. I brought her up to speed on all the news, including my father’s heart-to-heart with me.

  “Your father is a kind man, Lexie,” she said in her rich accent, “but he has not stood in your Jimmy Choo’s. I wonder if he would see things differently if your mother had broken up with him and gotten pregnant by the next man she dated?”

  My self-righteous anger returned like a tsunami. “Exactly.”

  “However, in your father’s defense, perhaps this loser Ryan is trustworthy in business, but not with someone’s heart.”

  My anger fizzled. My father usually did have good judgment about people.

  “What happens when you see him? You don’t get butterflies in your stomach, do you?”

  “No. Of course not.” Did I? I wasn’t sure what I felt when I saw Ryan. Confused, mostly.

  “Good. You are fine, then. If you get butterflies, then you’ve got troubles.”

  We chatted a bit more about her classes at university before hanging up. A pang of loneliness filled me as I imagined Nandini taking the subway over to Antoine’s. I missed her and
New York and our microscopic apartment and my life.

  I propped my feet on the table. What did I feel when I saw Ryan? After we broke up, he had tried to tell me that the girl he got pregnant had been a one night stand from a frat party he’d attended. He’d been drunk and was missing me (so he said) and had made a mistake. Of course, I’d been too angry and hurt to be able to begin to see his side of things. Even now, I don’t think I could ever trust him again if we did date—

  I shoved my chair back with a loud screech and stood up. What the hell was I thinking? I was never going to date Ryan Leeds again. Ever. Why had such a stupid thought even entered my mind? It was the constant exposure, that’s what it was. Like measles. Spend enough time around the disease and you catch it. I needed to get my act together and get back to New York before I became infected with the West family love for Ryan Leeds, super-dad.

  “Hey Lex, whatcha’ doin’?”

  I jerked around to find the devil himself leaning against the counter. His sandy hair swept across his forehead as if he’d just gone for a run. He took a big bite of apple and checked me out.

  “You’re looking good, ya know? Even with two casts. Can’t remember if I told you that or not. You’re gettin’ better with age.”

  “Please,” I said, refusing to allow myself to acknowledge that he was too. “Save it for someone who cares. Or believes you.”

  “You’re a tough nut, aren’t you, Lex?” He crossed his arms over a chest that was much more muscled than it had been in college. “Would it help if I told you that you were the one who got away?”

  “No.”

  “It’s always been you, Lex, even when we weren’t together.” He moved closer and I recognized that look in his eye. “What do I have to do to get you to forgive me?”

  I lifted my chin and stared him down. “You would need to time travel and change history.” I grabbed my laptop and clunked to the door. “Email me if you do, okay, Ry?”