“He’s still asleep.”
Ty climbed in bed with me to snuggle, and I was happy he was still my sweetie, at least part of the time.
I looked at the clock. It was only six, and I didn’t want to wake Oliver so early.
“Let’s go back to sleep.” Ty didn’t answer, and I think he was asleep before I even said it.
The next thing I knew someone was tapping my arm again. This time, it was Oliver, and he was crying. “Where’s my dad?”
“Oh, sweetie, he’s sleeping at home. He said to let you sleep. Let’s call him.”
I looked at the clock, as I dialed. It was nine-fifteen.
“Hey, good morning,” Ian answered sheepishly.
“Good morning. Oliver’s wanting to talk to you.”
Oliver took the phone and walked away, still shy around us. Ty stirred, and within minutes, we were all headed to the kitchen for breakfast.
Thank goodness for these flannel pajamas I won at Bunco! Otherwise, I’d have on a tank top, no bra, and a skimpy pair of shorts.
I needed a shower, but a toothbrush and a face-wash had to suffice. The boys were eating muffins with their juice, and Ty unlocked the front door for Ian, giving me time to run and get dressed.
The first things I saw to throw on were jeans and a Texas sweatshirt, before forcing my unruly hair into a ponytail. No pomp and circumstance for beauty. I hoped my au naturel wasn’t a turn off for him.
“Good morning, again,” he greeted me when I entered the kitchen.
“Hi, back at ya. How’d you sleep?”
“Sound. A storm could’ve hit, and I wouldn’t have known it. Thanks for letting Oliver stay over.”
“Hey, it’s what friends are for. I need to even our scorecard.”
“You did. Don’t know if you’re interested, but I’ve got to cover the Dallas Stars hockey game tomorrow night, and I have passes for you and Ty, if you’d like to go with us. Otherwise, I have to get a nanny to sit with Oliver, in case I have to go to the locker room.”
I looked at both boys. Ty’s mouth was full of muffin, but he was nodding his head in agreement. “Sure, we’d love to.”
“What do people wear to hockey games?” I threw some outfits down on the bed and barely missed Shawna’s head.
“Clothes,” she popped off.
“Smartass.” I laughed and she joined.
“Jeans and a Stars jersey. Jorge’s got a dozen of them, but if you go over there, he will lock you up in a closet and try to impersonate you. He’s salivating at your ticket.”
“He can go in my place if he wants.”
She sat up on the edge of the bed. “It’s what Ian wants, and that’s not a date with Jorge.”
I stepped out of the closet. “This is NOT a date.”
“Okay, whatev’s, you just keep convincing yourself of that.” She got off the bed. “I’ll go get you a jersey and a jacket. It’s freezin’ ass cold at a hockey game. Be right back.”
I darted past my tall mirror, and the patch caught my attention.
My freakin’ eye. I’d forgot about it. Shit. I no longer wanted to go. I didn’t want to disappoint Ian, but I wasn’t ready to go out in public.
I waited for Shawna to return. When she handed me three jerseys to pick from and a jacket, I just looked at her.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
“I can’t go. People will look at my eye. They’ll stare.”
“Don’t you dare chicken out. You go to that damn game and make three boys very happy.”
I didn’t respond. I thought about what she’d said.
Yes, she took a low shot because she knew I preached to Ty about putting other’s needs first. She knew it had come to a moment of character. No reason existed that I couldn’t go, and I knew I’d have a great time if I could get beyond people staring at me and wondering what happened.
Later that afternoon, Ian drove us to the American Airlines Center, and with the crazy traffic, I was happy he was doing the driving. Because he was the physician on duty for the team, we had a special room to sit in, and there was food for us and even a bar. Nothing like going to an event all out in style.
Throughout the game, no one in the room seemed to pay us any attention, and we practically had the place to ourselves. There were a couple of other guys who came in and out, but no one talked to us or bothered us.
The boys and I had a blast, even though Ian had to go to the medical facilities twice, so we didn’t see him much. He didn’t mind, and it was obvious to me he loved what he did. I loved how he blended it with being a single dad as much as he did.
I felt myself getting drawn in closer to him as a person. Learning what he liked and what he didn’t. For instance, he hated French fries. Who hated French fries? Seriously. And, his favorite color had to be grey or else he was colorblind because whether it was a T-shirt, sweatshirt, dress shirt, or sweater, it was going to be grey. Even his car, a seven series BMW, was charcoal grey.
“What did you think of the game?” He gripped the steering wheel and only glanced at me from time to time.
“I loved it. I’d hate to be sitting on the glass and have the puck come flying at me. I jumped when it did it from where we were sitting. I can’t imagine being that close.”
“When I was in Cali, I only thought about surfing and never gave hockey a thought. Now, I love it.”
I watched his facial expressions and loved that he was very relaxed, and he smiled…a lot. “I could definitely do that again.”
“I’ll keep you in mind.” He laughed.
“What? You have a rotating roster?” A giggle escaped my lips.
He scrubbed his chin with his thumb. “Jorge has a hit out on you. He thinks the only way he can go is if you’re taken out.” He busted out laughing.
“I’m glad you two are such good friends. He’s a great guy. I almost gave him my ticket tonight.”
He quickly turned to face me. “Why?”
I touched my eye patch, my insecurities visible. “I didn’t want to see people stare,” I said softly.
“And did they?” He reached over and gripped my hand.
I shook my head. “No. And I didn’t give it another thought after about five minutes.”
He let go of my hand. “It’s all going to be okay. Your sight will return, and you’ll feel like yourself soon.”
How did he know?
He dropped us off at the sidewalk and waited until we got inside before pulling around back to his garage.
Lying in bed, I tossed and turned, replaying his words over and over.
Would my sight really return like he’d predicted? Would I look weird with a frozen eye?
The self-pity monster consumed me, and tears flowed as I drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 14
Ty started back to school, and I was grateful that some sense of normalcy had come back to our lives, being a routine-kind-of-girl.
Declaring no more pity parties, I kept myself busy at the boutique, but I couldn’t wait for Shawna to get back in town. She was the only family I had.
In the meantime, project bistro was underway. Jim, the architect, provided me his renderings for the designs, and I had several options. But then, he threw me a huge curve ball.
When his team went to the city planning commission, they discovered the antique business next door to mine was closing, and the contents would be sold at auction. He had his realtor pull some comps in the area, just in case we received an actual buy price. The owner of the building also had the apartment above my store. Mom and I’d been leasing only a portion of the building at a large overhead cost for years. Buying the building would probably be cheaper than my lease, if I combined it with the income from the apartment.
Before getting too excited, I thought about what it would mean to own my whole building, including the apartment upstairs. But, at what price? There was probably no way I could afford it.
Isabella was having a conniption, wanting to go upstairs and
tour the apartment, so Jim’s partner from the architectural firm arranged a preview. In no way were we disappointed. In fact, the apartment was beautiful and a place I could easily call home. Instantly, I thought of selling my house and starting over under the city lights.
But, it wasn’t practical for Ty. Where would he play? The probability of kids being in the area was very low. His needs before mine, I reminded myself.
“Chelz, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Isabella’s imaginary drool was covering her.
“Probably not.” I laughed.
She slung her purse down in a chair beside the entry door and touched all the surfaces, totally planning her designs for the new space. “You aren’t in love with it?” Her eyes met mine.
“Yes, I love it. Practical for you, but not for me. Now, if I were single and—”
“Chelsie, we have the realtor on the phone. Do you want to hear the price?” Jim held the phone to his chest, but his eyes lit up in excitement.
I nodded my head, while my stomach flipped from anxiety.
When he mouthed the amount, my heart leapt in surprise. It was easily twenty percent below comps in the area. “Give me five minutes and we’ll call him back.”
Jim pulled me aside for a brief conversation. Then he spoke with the realtor again, requesting much needed time to prepare new drawings, so all scenarios could be evaluated. It was a huge decision, and I didn’t want to make it too fast and have buyer’s remorse.
During their conversation, the realtor revealed to Jim that the original owner and my mother were old friends, and the inheriting son thought I should have first dibs at the building. He’d planned to do that in a few weeks after the auction.
No one had lived in the apartment in many years, and he used it on slight occasion with corporate guests. That would explain why I’d never seen anyone come and go and also the reason it had been maintained so well. The antique dealer occupying the space beside me had retired due to health, and the space would be empty after the upcoming auction. I’d been so busy with the holidays I hadn’t even noticed the closed sign on the door. I’d been so wrapped in my own little world, which was going to change.
Decision time. The architect couldn’t act on my behalf, so I had to either go with their realtor or get one for myself. I decided to save money and go with theirs, and we scheduled a meeting for the following week.
Isabella was jumping up and down. I made a mental point to separate her from the project; otherwise, she was going to drive me nuts and sway my mind.
From the apartment, we took the private stairway down to the antique dealer’s space. It was dark and cold; sadness gripped me. Owning a store took a large part of the owner’s life and closing one had to be somewhat like a death. We tried to look at the space as if it were empty and how it could be incorporated into one large business with my space next door.
In the back corner was a large mahogany bar, and after a bit of investigation, we confirmed it was actually original to the building and not a piece of furniture for sale. I pulled out one of the bar stools and stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar.
This was meant to be. It was the perfect project to move my life forward, and something to give me a new purpose.
Jim took the stool beside me. “You know, this would be a perfect place for a wine bar, and over there is just the size space needed for a piano. You sure you just want a bistro?”
I took inventory of the space—really observing the architecture and deep bones of the place. Old mahogany lawyers paneling was partially hidden by shelves full of antique porcelain and china dolls, various knick-knacks, and treasures from the past. Beyond the dirt and grime was a large space with tall, coffered ceilings and lots of character.
“I’m curious what was here before?”
“We’re researching the history for you. I, for one, think it’s amazing, and if you don’t take their offer, I may.” His grin was coy.
The wheels in my mind began to turn at an overwhelming speed. I didn’t want to be hasty, but I was definitely curious about what he had in mind. “I know it’s extra time on your part, but I’d like to see what ideas you have spinning around in that brain of yours. A bar is totally out of my league, but that doesn’t mean I’m not entertaining the idea and just might have someone who would want to partner with me.”
Jim explored the area, and I watched him take in every detail. He even snapped some shots with his camera. “Let’s regroup in a few days, and then you’ll have a decision to make by the end of the next week, just in time for their offer to expire.”
A couple of days later, I sat at my desk, trying to concentrate on my work and cutting checks for invoices, but I couldn’t focus for dreaming of the space next door. Isabella kept popping into the chair opposite my desk every chance she could, while throwing ideas at me.
She propped her elbows on my desk like a small child waiting on the perfect moment to ask permission for something. “I know that look, and you’re as excited about it as I am, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t lie. “Yes. But I want to see the plans tomorrow, and then I want to know construction costs and permits and everything else that comes along with it. Your interest is solely on the apartment.” I raised my eyebrow at her. “I have to look at the bigger picture.”
She laughed. “I’ve known you for four years. You never drop at a challenge.” She got up quickly and stood in the doorway. “You’re in to this, and my bet is that it becomes a bar.”
I threw my notepad at her. “Don’t you have displays to dust?” I laughed.
The real reason for stalling was a secret to everyone. I had a doctor’s appointment the next day, and I couldn’t make any decisions until I knew if I needed surgery and what would happen with my sight.
Later that evening after Ty went to bed, I sat out on my patio surround by the ambiance of the outdoor fireplace, wrapped in a blanket and enjoying a glass of wine. I was deep into my thoughts about the store, the building, and the turn in the road that life had handed me. I was oblivious to anything else when I heard someone come through the gate.
Startled, I sat up. “Shawna?”
“Yes, who else would it be, a boogie man?” She loved to laugh at her own jokes.
She took the empty chair beside me and helped herself to the wine. “What gives?”
“How’d you know I was back here?”
“Smoke and lights. When I knocked on the front door, you didn’t answer. This is where you come when you gotta lot on your mind.”
I gave a slight laugh. “Ah, shit. It’s been a helluva week. I don’t know where to start.” My sigh was more audible than I’d intended.
When we last talked, I was getting ready for the hockey game. I brought her up to speed on my evening, my non-date with Ian. But that was really like old news. So much had happened in a week.
“So, you’re still ‘just friends,’ huh?”
“Yep. Right now I don’t have the time to think about him.”
She refilled our wine and chunked a log on the fire while she was up. “Well, if you’re not thinking of him constantly, then maybe you aren’t in love.”
“Love? No, I wasn’t in love. I tried to tell you that.” I stared at my wine shimmering from the fire’s glow.
“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second. You’re crazy about him. Go ahead and kid yourself and try hard to not make that a reality, but in the meantime, the sex was awesome, though, huh?”
“Amazing.”
“So, if it isn’t Ian, then what brings you out here? What’s wrong?”
She knew me too well. “I have a follow-up doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I get my patch off, and they’re doing another MRI.”
“You aren’t afraid of tests, so what do I not know?”
“I don’t have any vision in my eye. It may be permanent. The doctor said he might try surgery, but it’s very risky.”
She gripped my hand. “This explains so much. I’m pissed you didn’t tell me
, but I get it. You were waiting to see if it got better after the swelling was gone.”
“It’s still swollen, but when I look in the mirror, I can see my eyelid partially open… I just don’t see even a glimpse of light through it, and I look like a freak.” I didn’t stop the tears.
“Did you tell Ian?”
“Hell, no. I don’t want his sympathy. I don’t want anyone to pity me.”
“It’s not pity, you dingbat. You’re our friend. We love you. Helping someone and pitying someone are two completely different things. You’re always so damn stubborn. You just hate someone caring about you, and it’s really annoying.”
Her accusation forced me to sit up on the edge of my chair, my blanket falling to my sides. “Get off my ass. It would be pity and you know it.”
She threw her hands up in the air and in the process knocked her glass of wine off the table. “You don’t get to control how I feel.” Her voice sharper than any shard sprayed around us. “It’s not up to you. We’re friends. Hell, we’re family, and if I want to lend an extra helping hand or be a shoulder of support until you get your arms around this, I will. Don’t try to stop me from caring too much.”
My laughter was an oddity at the moment, and she cut her eyes at me. “What’s so funny?”
“That was an antique glass.”
Tears poured down her face in the light from the fire. “You’re my best friend. I love you with all my heart. Don’t shut me out.” Her chin quivered with emotion.
“On a lighter note, my building’s up for sale, and I’m seriously thinking about buying it. There’s an apartment above it and—”
She gripped my hand again. “Please God, don’t say you’re moving. I can’t—”
“Stop interrupting. I was going to say Isabella has already staked claim on the apartment. Her lease fee will make up the difference in my payments.”
She put her hand over her heart. “Too much shit tonight. I think I need to drink more.”
I laughed so hard. “You can drink from the bottle, but you’ve used up your one-glass limit.”
Conflicted on 5th: A 5th Avenue Romance Novel, Book One (5th Avenue Romance Series 1) Page 10
