The Bachelor

by Carly Phillips

  He drew a deep breath, knowing his next words were going to hurt her as much as or more than his long absences. “Every time I came back, including this one, I asked your mother to come back to California with me.”

  Charlotte took a step back, reeling from that piece of information. Her entire life had been built on the premise that her father didn’t care enough to take them with her. Annie had fostered that belief. She’d never once said Russell had asked them to join him.

  Charlotte trembled, shaking in her denial. “No. No. Mom would have gone to California. She wouldn’t have chosen to stay here alone, pining for you. Letting people talk about us. Letting the kids make fun of me because I didn’t have a daddy who loved me.” She looked to her mother for confirmation.

  Because to learn otherwise now would mean she’d unnecessarily lost out on years of having a father. Even if he wasn’t in town, if she’d known he loved her, known he wanted her, her emotional foundation would have been more solid.

  Surely her mother would have known that. “Mom?” Charlotte hated the little-girl sound to her voice and straightened her shoulders. She’d handle whatever happened next.

  Unbelievably, Annie nodded. “It’s … it’s true. I couldn’t leave town and everything that was familiar. And I couldn’t bear to be separated from you, so we stayed here.”

  “But why didn’t you at least tell me Dad wanted us? You knew he wanted you. You had that thought to keep you warm and comforted at night. Why didn’t you want the same for me?”

  “I wanted what was best for you. But I’m ashamed to admit I did only what was best for me. The way you reacted when your father left and the way you kept reading up on all those Hollywood books, I was afraid of losing you if you knew. You always were more like your father than like me.” She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I thought you’d go to him and leave me behind. Alone.”

  Charlotte blinked. Feeling numb, she lowered herself onto the couch. “All these years, I blamed you.” She met her father’s gaze.

  “I let you, honey.”

  And he had. While her mother had allowed her child to suffer, her father had perpetuated the lie that he’d abandoned them both. “Why?”

  He let out a groan. “At first, it was out of love and respect for your mother’s wishes. She was so afraid of losing you, I couldn’t help feeling she needed you more than I did. And how do you explain all this to a little girl?”

  “And later?”

  “You became an angry teen.” He wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, shook his head, and began massaging. “On my trips home you wouldn’t have a civil conversation with me about the weather. Then you went to college, moved to New York, and were old enough to schedule your trips home so you could avoid mine.”

  That was true enough, she acknowledged with sudden, unexpected sadness and guilt. Maybe there was enough blame to go around, she thought.

  “I suppose I just didn’t try hard enough.”

  Charlotte exhaled hard. “And I didn’t try at all.” The admission didn’t come easily.

  “It’s my fault, but there’s an explanation. I’m not looking to pass the blame, but look. …” With shaking hands, Annie reached for her purse and pulled out a small vial of prescription medication. “Dr. Fallon said it sounds like I’ve had a severe case of depression.”

  Hadn’t Charlotte approached the doctor sensing just such a possibility?

  Annie blinked back tears. “Maybe I should have taken these before, but I didn’t realize I needed help. Your father said … he said Dr. Fallon had spoken with you and you thought there might be a problem. I didn’t know. I thought I had to feel this way. I thought it was normal. I mean, I’ve always felt this way.” Her voice broke, but she continued, “And I couldn’t bear to lose you too. I know I caused you pain because of my … illness, and I’m sorry.” Annie hugged Charlotte tight. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her mother smelled like her mother—warm and soft and comforting. But there’d always been something childlike about Annie. She’d always seemed so fragile, Charlotte realized now. Even the librarian job was so perfect for her because of the silence and soft words spoken there.

  “I’m not mad at you, Mom.” She was just off kilter and confused. The lump in her throat was so large it hurt, and she wasn’t sure how to absorb the truth.

  Looking back, so much made sense, but only recently had Charlotte realized there was a more serious problem. She still had a hunch they were dealing with something more deeply rooted than mild depression, something akin to mental illness. Why else would a person keep her shades drawn and windows closed, preferring loneliness to other people’s company, including the husband she loved?

  Why hadn’t any of them picked up on the signs before? Perhaps they’d all been too self-absorbed, Charlotte thought sadly.

  “I think we should leave you alone to think about all this,” he said in the wake of Charlotte’s silence. He grabbed her mother’s hand. “Annie?”

  She nodded. “I’m coming,” she said, before looking at Charlotte. “And again, I’m sorry.”

  They started for the door together and Charlotte let them go.

  She hoped and prayed that with the truth would come understanding and peace. But she needed time alone to understand the things she’d heard and decide how she felt now. How she’d feel when the numbness wore off.

  Hours later, Charlotte settled herself in her bed, but kept her window shades open so she could stare out at the inky night sky. She was too wound up to sleep and thought maybe counting stars would help her relax. Unfortunately, her thoughts were running through her mind at a rapid pace. Talk about living an illusion, she thought. The father she thought hadn’t cared about her did.

  Yet for a lifetime, Charlotte had modeled her behavior and treatment of men—men like Russell and travelers like Roman Chandler—on the abandonment lie perpetuated by her parents. But Russell Bronson wasn’t who Charlotte thought he was. He was selfish and had his faults, but he loved her mother. Charlotte had to give him some credit for that. Even if he could have done more to help both Annie and his daughter, he couldn’t sacrifice his entire life in the name of love.

  Charlotte wouldn’t even ask that of Roman. Not anymore. Asking him to stay in Yorkshire Falls was as selfish as Russell had been in his own way. Roman deserved better from her.

  It was ironic, really. Roman wasn’t the man she’d needed him to be. Charlotte had needed Roman to be the wanderer with no feelings, the love ’em and leave ’em bachelor who cared for no one but himself. She’d needed Roman to be all those things because it gave her an excuse to keep him at an emotional distance. To prevent herself from being hurt the way she thought her mother had been.

  Now she just needed him.

  She curled more deeply into the mattress, pulled up her covers, and yawned. Love had a way of casting aside all safety nets, Charlotte thought. And tomorrow she would make her own leap of faith with no guarantees of where she’d land.

  At some point Charlotte must have dozed off, because the sun shining through the window woke her at dawn. She’d slept well for the first time in ages and opened her eyes to a rush of adrenaline she hadn’t expected. She showered, ate a cup of peach yogurt, then decided it was late enough to call Rick.

  He picked up after one ring. “Rick Chandler at your service.”

  “Someone’s in a good mood,” Charlotte mused.

  “Yeah, well, a good run will do that for you. What’s up, Charlotte? Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, thinking of her decision to go after Roman. “And no,” she muttered, knowing she also had to tell Rick about Samson yet elicit his promise to protect and not turn the harmless older man in. “I need to talk to you.”

  “You know I always have time for you. But I’m on my way out the door. I’ve got meetings scheduled in Albany and I won’t be back until later.”

  Her disappointment was strong. Now that she’d made up her mind, she was ready to t
ake action.

  “How ’bout I come by on the way home?” he asked. “Probably around seven.”

  She tucked the phone beneath her ear and rinsed off her spoon as she figured her schedule. “It’s Sponsors Night. I’m supposed to throw out the ceremonial first pitch at the Rockets’ game tonight.” As much as she’d rather ditch her entire day and get to Roman as quickly as possible, she couldn’t let the kids down. And she didn’t want to.

  What she had to say to Rick couldn’t be done in public and would have to wait until tonight, “Why don’t you come by my place after the game?” she suggested.

  “Sounds like a plan. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Would you quit asking me? You’re beginning to sound like the big brother I never had.”

  “Yeah, well, I promised.”

  “You promised what?” Butterflies began a steady flutter inside her stomach. And to who?

  Silence extended over the phone line. “Come on, Rick. What did you mean?”

  He cleared his throat. “Nothing. Just that it’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”

  His job as a cop or his job as a brother? she wondered. Had Roman made Rick promise something before he’d taken off?

  “Well, I’m fine.” As curious as she was, she accepted Rick’s vague answer. She knew better than to think she’d get one Chandler brother to snitch on another.

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Right. Drive safe.” Charlotte hung up the phone and exhaled hard. One long workday and seven innings of baseball to go, and then she’d find out where Roman had gone. Charlotte had twelve hours to get up the nerve to make the trip to wherever. To leave Yorkshire Falls and land uninvited on Roman’s doorstep, completely uncertain of the reception she’d receive.

  The day was longer than Charlotte could have envisioned, each hour feeling like several. Listening to Beth go on and on about Thomas Scalia had brought out mixed feelings, happiness for her friend and envy because she was alone, her future unsure.

  But the day passed and Charlotte finally threw the ceremonial first pitch while her parents sat in the stands watching her. Together. She shook her head in amazement. Not that she held any illusions. Russell would be back in California by early next week. Alone this time, but maybe not for long.

  Annie had agreed to meet with a therapist. Harrington had a wonderful mental health clinic and her mother had decided, with her father’s encouragement, to see a psychiatrist Dr. Fallon had recommended there. Meanwhile, her father had decided to tie up some loose ends in L.A. and come home for a while, at least long enough for Annie to begin therapy and see if she could wrap her mind around the possibility of moving west.

  Would wonders never cease? Charlotte mused, happier and more hopeful about life than she’d been in a while. As if they knew, Charlotte’s Rockets beat the competition again, despite their star pitcher being out with a broken wrist and some other assorted player injuries. Though it was still early in the season, they’d designated Charlotte their good luck charm, going so far as to give her an honorary spaceship locket to hang on a chain around her neck in appreciation of her sponsorship and perfect attendance record so far. The gesture brought a lump to her throat and made her glad she hadn’t ditched the kids in favor of her personal life.

  “What personal life?” she asked aloud as she let herself back into her apartment, the night over at last.

  The joke seemed to be on her. Even her mother had a private life, whereas right now Charlotte had none. But once she saw Rick and got information on Roman, she’d be on her way—to what, she didn’t know, but at least she’d be taking positive steps forward.

  Charlotte dropped her keys on the kitchen table, walked over to the blinking answering machine, and hit play. “Hi, Charlotte. It’s me, Rick. I got hung up in Albany and then was called out on a case as soon as I hit town again. We have to talk, so sit tight.”

  As if she had anywhere else to go. Not tired and still wound up from the game, she headed into the kitchen and dug through the freezer for the pint of vanilla butterscotch ice cream she kept stashed in the back. Spoon in hand, she decided she’d hang out in her bedroom. Ever since splurging on a small thirteen-inch color television for nights in bed, she found she enjoyed lounging in her room better than hanging out alone in the living area of the small apartment. With luck, she’d find something on television to kill more time until Rick finally arrived.

  She approached her room, scarfing spoonfuls of ice cream on the way. The dim lighting from the doorway took her by surprise. She didn’t remember leaving her bedside lamp on when she’d left for work this morning. She shrugged, then entered her private sanctuary at the same time she licked sticky butterscotch off her lips.

  “I could help you do that. If you’re willing to talk to me.”

  Charlotte halted in her tracks. Her heart stopped beating for a second before beginning again, more erratic and quickly than before. “Roman?” Stupid question. Of course that deep, husky voice belonged to Roman.

  And it was Roman, sexily lounging in gray sweats, a navy T-shirt, and bare feet on her frilly white bedspread and assorted pillows. Only a man of his stature and build could look even more masculine when leaning into feminine frills and eyelets. Only a woman in love could want to toss caution out the window and run into his arms.

  She let out a frustrated puff of air. She’d missed him and was desperately glad to see him, but they had issues that remained unsettled. And until they’d discussed those problems and came to an understanding that fulfilled them both, too much remained uncertain between them. Though at this moment Charlotte felt like she could live solely on love and the air he breathed, she was smarter than that.

  At least she hoped she was. Because her resolve to wait was crumbling quickly.

  Roman forced himself to remain calm and relaxed. Hard to do when cushioned in Charlotte’s soft bed and surrounded by her feminine scent, a scent he’d missed while he’d been gone. And even harder to do with her staring at him, a mixture of longing and wariness in her gorgeous green eyes.

  He’d gotten into town, and with everyone at dinner or the Little League game, he’d remained undetected, which was good, since he’d counted on the element of surprise.

  Wanting her alone, and the sooner the better, he’d planned to grab her and run—back to his house, her apartment, he didn’t care. He had much to share about his trip to Washington, D.C., and a future that he hoped included her.

  But no matter how anxious he was to bridge the physical distance between them, he wouldn’t rush things. She had to trust him first.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked.

  “Did you miss me?” she retorted.

  He grinned. Well, at least she hadn’t lost her spunk, and besides, he hadn’t expected her to jump into his arms. “Of course I missed you.”

  Instead of finding Charlotte at home or in her shop, he’d discovered her on the field, throwing out the ceremonial first pitch. Then she was embraced by her father. Her father. Seeing her forgiving heart, Roman had fallen in love all over again.

  He’d watched her smile at Russell, and Roman instantly knew she’d made peace with that part of her life. He hoped it would allow her to make peace with him.

  He patted the seat beside him. “Join me.”

  “How’d you get in?” she asked instead.

  “The fire escape. I knew you’d go back to leaving your window unlocked without me around to look after you.” And she had. So he’d climbed in through the fire escape and settled himself in her bed to wait. “You need a keeper, Charlotte.” He recalled her telling him that on the day of their first reunion in Norman’s back hall. He’d never envisioned they’d end up at this juncture, his heart and future hinging on this beautiful woman’s choices.

  “Are you applying for the job?” she asked.

  He shrugged, trying not to let his emotions show. Not yet. “I thought I already did.”

  “Because you called heads when
Chase chose tails?” she asked a little too casually.

  Her lightly tossed barb stung, because it meant she was still hurting and he was the cause. “Actually, Chase was never involved.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Because he already paid his dues.”

  “Rick did say you were smart.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “And you are. Smart enough to come after me?” He asked her, taking in the open suitcase across the room that had been taunting him with that exact possibility since he’d let himself in. Just the fact that she was brave enough to make the trip told him what he already knew. She was more her father’s daughter than she’d ever realized, and he realized now that that wasn’t a bad thing. He had a hunch she knew it too.

  She was Roman’s perfect soul mate. And for a man who’d never thought in such terms before, the admission was huge—and one he wanted to share with her.

  “Come on, Charlotte. Could it be I saved you a trip?” He heard the hope in his voice, but didn’t care. If laying his heart out for her to trample was the solution to getting her back, he’d do it.

  “Damn you, Roman.” She reached for a crocheted pillow on her dresser and tossed it at him hard, whacking him on the head. “You’re too arrogant for your own good.”

  “But not for yours, I hope? Forgive me, Charlotte.”

  She swallowed and tapped her foot on the floor, making him wait. “You are arrogant,” she muttered, but a grin tugged at her lips, one she couldn’t hide, no matter how angry she was, no matter how hard she obviously tried.

  “It’s one of my more charming qualities. Now quit stalling and put me out of my misery.”

  That got to her, and she lifted an eyebrow in wonder. She was obviously surprised he’d been unhappy. That stunned him. How could she not know he was only half a man without her by his side? “Tell me where you planned to go.”