“What are you up to?” Mills asks, handing Arden to Blaire, who produces a lollipop out of her backpack.
“Nothing,” I respond innocently and add, “So you went from Skittles to suckers?”
“I carry individually wrapped candy that’s easy to store and share,” she answers, then turns to Mills, “Are you here to help us design our dream home? At last, I can put to use all the hours I’ve spent watching HGTV.”
Blaire opens her magical backpack, producing a coloring book and crayons.
“No,” Mills answers, “I’m driving with Beacon and Henry to the factory. We’re hoping Arden can stay with you while I’m gone.”
Her face illuminates as she says, “Of course. It shouldn’t take us long to choose the amenities for the house, and, after that we’re going to the bookstore where we might find some cool books for Arden. Uncle Hayes is paying.”
She gives me a mischievous smile, and I wink at her. She quickly composes herself, though. That’s right, baby, I’m not backing down.
“Books!” Arden repeats.
“I’m sure we won’t be back before lunch time,” he announces. “Would you mind feeding him, too? I promise to bring ice cream in exchange for your babysitting services.”
She grins and says, “I’ll be more than happy to do it for free.”
Mills gives her a list of what he eats and his schedule, along with a small backpack where he has snacks and toys.
“Any allergies or medications?” I ask.
They both give me a glare. “What? I always ask that when I receive patients in the ER.”
“He’s not a patient. He’s your nephew,” Blaire chides.
I shrug because I don’t have an answer for them.
“Anyway, what is it that they produce in the factory?” Blaire asks.
“Ice cream among other sweets,” I answer. “That’s why he promised to bring you ice cream.”
Blaire arches an eyebrow. Clearly, I withheld important information, and she’s irritated. She says, “You have a factory that produces ice cream, and you never told me.”
“It belonged to my family, not me,” I remind her. “And did I mention it produces chocolates, too?”
She serves me with a face scrunch but doesn’t say anything.
“In exchange for taking care of Arden, I’ll bring you ice cream, Skittles,” Mills reminds her.
“You don’t need to bring me more sugar,” she says initially and then amends, “But Sophia ordered cookies… Fine bring us some vanilla ice cream we’ll have a party. What do you think Arden?”
Arden nods once and focuses on the coloring book Blaire gave him.
Mills leaves right away, and Blaire and I focus on the binders that Easton Rodin sent over. It doesn’t take us long to choose the amenities for every bedroom and bathroom as well as the rest of the house.
Twenty-Three
Hayes
Around noon, we’re emailing everything to the contractor. I take Arden and Blaire to one of The Lodge’s restaurants for lunch. We head to the bookstore where Arden chooses several books and Blaire buys a few knick-knacks. The place is more like a gift shop. We end our afternoon walking around the hotel grounds.
“He’s such a sweet baby,” Blaire says on our way back to her room, placing everything we bought him today on the couch.
Arden fell asleep in my arms during the walk. “You’re still great with kids. What’s your secret?”
“Mom was loving and patient with us,” she explains. “I learned it from her, I guess, and it was helpful for a few months.”
“How so?” I ask, wondering if she’s been fostering children.
“Before I got sick, the moms around my neighborhood paid me good money to babysit their kids.” She smirks. “They’d fight for me and pay me a little extra.”
“Why did you stop?”
She shrugs and gathers some pillows and the comforter from her bed.
“Children carry germs,” she says, and the rest is implied because I know that as soon as she was diagnosed, her parents isolated her to avoid any medical complications.
“What do they think about your job?” I ask, since they always tried to keep her in a bubble.
She sighs, setting everything she brought on the floor and creating a bed or something like that for Arden.
“Dad and I barely speak, and when we do, it is just a quick call to wish each other a happy birthday or a Merry Christmas. Mom pretends I don’t travel or put myself in danger,” she informs me. “I can’t talk to her about any of it. After all the sacrifices they made for me, I’m throwing my life away.”
I set Arden on top of the bed she made.
“You’re really good with children,” she suddenly says.
“I rotated in pediatrics a few times. You learn a trick or two while you work with children. They aren’t as terrifying as I thought.”
Blaire’s gaze saddens, and she turns away, looking into Arden’s magical backpack. She pulls out an orca that holds a hockey stick and sets it close to him. She disappears in her bedroom, and I pull out my computer to check my email. There’s one from Easton with an updated quote and a contract. I sign the contract, copy the wiring instructions, and go to my online banking browser where I send the fifty percent and email the receipt to Easton and my brothers.
There are a couple of emails from Mom, one from my boss, and three from my practice partners. I grunt. None of the people I want to deal with right now.
“Everything okay?” Blaire asks, when she comes out of the room wearing leggings and a hoodie.
“Yeah, I just transferred the money to Easton. I hope we made the right call,” I say out loud. “We didn’t shop around.”
I click on my boss’s email, and it’s painful to read it. Asshole.
“I liked Easton, and Rodin Construction has a great reputation in the Seattle area. You know I’m good at reading people. Which brings me to my next question. What’s with the face?” she says.
“Nothing,” I say, trying to brush away everything that I’m reading. Mom sent me two new blind dates or profiles. Didn’t I tell her Blaire is back into my life?
Blaire takes a seat on the couch, and I notice she’s holding yarn and her crochet hook. Before I can ask her about the beanies she used to make, she says, “Tell Blaire what’s bugging you.”
“My boss is giving me shit because I quit.”
Her head snaps, her eyes looking at me with concern. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m moving out of the city.”
“For eighteen months,” she reminds me. “You should ask for a sabbatical or a leave of absence, whatever it is that you call it at the hospital. Quitting is too … final.”
“What would you say if I told you that I’m selling my share of the practice, too?”
“I’d again ask, why?”
Avoiding her question, I tell her about Henry’s A Christmas Carol theory, minus the Blaire part.
She huffs and shakes her head. “Why did you choose orthopedics?”
“That question is a few years too late, isn’t it?”
“At least it’s not plastics. I’d be pretty pissed at you,” she says, and I hear the disappointment in her voice. “It pays well, you make a lot of money, but are you meeting your goals? Perhaps that’s why you’re second guessing your life and making rash decisions.”
“I get to reconstruct bones, repair major fractures… I don’t know, Blaire. It seemed like the best choice at the time. Pediatrics was…”
She gives me a sad smile. “Ours,” she finishes for me.
“Yes, and also, if I chose that, my mom would’ve expected me to take over her practice, and I didn’t want to work with her,” I explain. “I love her dearly, but the whole ‘joining the family business’ isn’t for me.”
Blaire can’t contain her laughter. “Yet, here you are, having to deal with the Aldridge fiasco.”
“He fucked me.”
“It’s okay to grieve,” she s
ays out of nowhere. “You guys are trying so hard to pretend this didn’t affect any of you whatsoever.”
“He turned our lives upside down. Of course, we’re affected by it,” I say, and my voice comes out a little too forceful.
“Not what I’m referring to,” she amends. “You loved him. Even when he wasn’t always there for you. You had a few good memories of him. I’m sure the little boy who adored his dad is sad about losing him.”
“Mourned him twenty some years ago,” I say. “It’s over.”
“You’re completely changing your life, not because of the will, but because you aren’t happy,” she says, setting her knitting down and moving closer to me. “I hate to say this, but Henry is right. You’re having an existential crisis. What is it?”
Are we in a place where I can tell her that my life seems incomplete? Meaningless, even.
The waiting list I have because I’m one of the best, the papers I publish every year, the respect from my colleagues, even my salary feels irrelevant. She can’t possibly understand my problem, when everything she does makes the world a better place.
“I think, in a way, the six of us are afraid that we’ll end up like our father,” I finally let one of my thoughts out.
“Alone?”
“Loveless,” I answer or maybe I add to what she said.
Either way, it’s all the same.
“How pathetic is this moment?” I ask rhetorically. “I’m telling you, of all people, that I’m fucking alone.”
“Does it bother you that it’s me?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “Once upon a time, you were my best friend. Are you with someone?”
She smiles and moves away. “I know where that question is heading...”
“That’s a no,” I assume. “Why?”
“Relationships need time, which I don’t have,” she responds. “Love isn’t something you just plan or force. It just happens, and so far, it has eluded me. How about you? Have you even tried?”
I open one of my mom’s dating emails and give her my computer.
“She’s been doing that for the last couple of years,” I explain.
“Camille is pretty, graduated from Texas A&M. She’s just twenty-three,” Blaire complains. “That’s … too young, isn’t it?”
“She’s set me up with a forty-three-year-old woman, too,” I inform her. “She’s tried everything: older, younger, blonde, brunette. I’m lucky she hasn’t tried to set me up with a guy.”
Blaire laughs and hands me the computer. “I can see how this is also pushing you to a crisis. Maybe the social pressure is what made you snap, and then your father dies…”
“You and my mother don’t see eye-to-eye, do you?”
She looks at me and shrugs. “Words were said, insults exchanged—not by me. What can I say? I’m not a fan.”
“What happened to Carter’s remains?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I want to know where he wanted to be laid to rest,” I answer.
She smiles and goes to her room. When she comes back, she’s holding a box wrapped with a knitted case.
“Please don’t tell me that’s Carter,” I beg her, because what the ever-fucking fuck?
“I did carry his ashes for a few years,” she confesses, taking a square book out of the case and handing it to me. “His list of requests is in the first pages.”
“When did you stop carrying them?”
“Once I ran out of them. I have a small jar with what’s left, but those are for me to keep forever. I promised,” she informs me. “It’s item number one off his list. Bring me with you and sprinkle joy—and my remains around.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
She shrugs. “I only took a little with me, so no one ever asked what I carried in that container. Sprinkling them around was so easy because no one noticed.”
“I wish I had been there for him—and for you,” I say regretfully.
“You need to let the past go,” she suggests, shaking her hands. “Shake it off and just like that, it’s gone. Turn the page and start a new life. Maybe you’re on the right path to move forward. You’re being slightly radical, but that might be what you need to finally find your future.”
“Did you shake everything off that easily?” I ask curiously. “Turn the page and start something new without any resentment.”
Her pensive gaze fixes on me. After a long silence she says, “We don’t have much time to hold onto anger and bitterness, do we? I … I’m working on it myself. You know, keep the lessons I learned from the sour moments and just hold onto what is worth cherishing.”
“I have a theory,” I tell her, when there’s a knock on the door.
“A theory?” she asks and watches me as I rise from my seat to open the door.
“Maybe I found my future too early, and I was too young to understand what I had … who I had,” I answer and walk away, hoping she understands the meaning and that she’s open to giving me another chance.
Twenty-Four
Blaire
Hayes talking about his future and how empty his life is plays in my head for the rest of the day—and the night. I can barely sleep. It’s around five in the morning when my phone buzzes.
Sophia: Text me when you wake up.
Blaire: I’m awake. What’s happening?
Sophia: I got your clothes. Want to go for a run?
I stare at the screen, impressed by her efficiency. Yesterday, when Beacon, Mills, and Henry came back from the factory, they called everyone into a meeting. As thrilling as the invitation was, I reminded them about Arden, and I volunteered to stay behind to take care of him. We spent the rest of the day together, and he fell asleep around eight.
Mills came to pick up his son around ten to take him back to his room. Hayes, Henry and Sophia were with him. They wanted to let me know that we’d be staying in Baker’s Creek until Monday or Tuesday. I complained that I didn’t have many clothes to wear, but it was an excuse so I could go home. Sophia pulled out her computer and began to order clothes for both of us, because she had the same issue. Complaining that I didn’t have money to pay was irrelevant since she said that Merkel Resorts was paying, whatever that means.
I won’t lie, I’m tempted to ask for an application to work for Henry. He pays for everything. Though, I think Sophia would fight me for the position with her life. Her boss might be demanding, but she has so many perks that it might be worth it to deal with Henry every day.
Blaire: Who sent you clothing this early?
Sophia: I have my secrets. Do you want to go for a run?
Blaire: I’m afraid to say that I don’t have tennis shoes because you might pull a pair from a hat.
Sophia: No, it’s part of the wardrobe I purchased for you. I left the bags outside your room.
I get out of bed, open the door to my room and find several shopping bags and shoe boxes. Vance steps out of his room, already dressed.
“Morning, Skittles,” he greets me, pointing at the bags and giving me a questioning look. “Did you go shopping on Rodeo Drive, and I didn’t notice?”
“Good morning,” I greet him. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes, I got a call,” he informs me. “They need me.”
“Who is they?”
He smirks. “It’s classified.”
I roll my eyes and ask, “When are you coming back?”
He shrugs. “In a few weeks?”
“Vance, we need to take care of your stitches,” I tell him.
“I’ll find you next Friday,” he replies. “Text me when you get back to San Francisco, and I’ll meet you there.”
“You’re coming back, right?”
He stares at me and sighs. “Yeah, about that…”
“Vance, you can’t just let these people down.”
“I’m not saying no, but you need to understand that I have a commitment,” he explains. “If I walk away, it’s forever. I can’t go back after I quit, Blaire
. What if I give up everything, and these assholes leave me hanging—again?”
“They won’t,” I assure him.
“You can’t possibly believe that they’ll stick around,” he argues. “Hayes did it to you. You believed in him, and one day, he was gone. Henry doesn’t stick to anything. Pierce might come because he’s trying to get rid of his wife, but what’s going to happen once she finally divorces him? Mills was on the phone with his agent last night, and I’m not sure if he’s coming back. And Beacon is a wild card.”
His words make sense, and yet, I have hopes that each one of them is going to come through.
“Can you have a little faith in them?”
“Are you for real?” he asks, sounding disappointed. “It’s not like you met them yesterday. You know how things are between us. They’re never going to change. If Carter was here…”
“If he was here, I wouldn’t be here,” I answer. “So many things would be different. You can’t change the past, nor hope for a different present. You can only change the future. Please help us do that.”
Vance sighs and shakes his head. “What’s happening between you and Hayes? He’s going to hurt you again,” he warns me.
I look at him and sigh. “You just sounded like your mom before you go on a mission. You might get killed. He can hurt me, but what if I take a leap and find my happiness? Those questions are valid. For now, I’m giving us a chance to see beyond the pain he inflicted and focus on the love we once shared. I still have feelings for him, and I can’t shut that down too soon because I’m afraid he’ll break my heart again. You have to have faith in others and in yourself.”
He smirks, “Are you trying to use some kind of reverse psychology on me?”
I shrug. “Go on your mission. Come back to get those stitches off, and hopefully, by then, I’ll show you that people can change.”
He gives me a hug and leaves the room. I shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction, but, out of all of them, I thought he’d be the one jumping into staying right away.
I grab the box with the running shoes as well as a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra from the bags. I change and head outside where Sophia is already waiting for me.
Loved You Once (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Book 1) Page 17
