Persuaded

by Rachel Schurig

  I had to look away. I couldn’t handle seeing that much emotion, knowing that it was for someone else. Feeling sickly guilty that I could be so shallow in a time like this, I patted his hand briefly before pulling away. “You’re welcome.”

  We waited for a full half hour before the doctor finally came out. “She’s awake.”

  Charlie sat down very quickly, as if his legs could no longer hold him up. Jim clasped a hand on his shoulder bracingly.

  “She appears to have a concussion, but she’s responsive,” the doctor continued. “The head wound required some stitches, but I don’t anticipate any further problems there. She also broke two ribs and her leg.”

  Mary gasped, clutching Charlie’s hand.

  “How’d she break bones?” Etta asked. “She was in the water!”

  “The waves seemed to have hit her against the rocks,” the doctor explained. “Regardless, my biggest concern is the concussion,” the doctor said. “We’ll want to keep a close eye on her for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

  “Can we see her?” Charlie asked.

  The doctor looked around at the gathered group. “Just one of you for now. She’s been through a serious trauma, and she’s still under close observation.”

  Charlie stood. “I’m going,” he said, a challenge in his voice. I wasn’t sure if it was for Rick or Mary, but it was clear he wasn’t going to argue the point.

  After he was gone, I laid my head on the back of my chair and closed my eyes. She was going to be fine. Concussions could be scary, but none of her injuries sounded terribly serious. And she was awake. I thought about how scared she must be, to wake up in a hospital, surrounded by strangers, and shivered.

  “You okay?”

  I looked up to see Rick standing in front of me. I nodded. “Yeah. How are you holding up?”

  He collapsed into the seat next to me, running his hands through his hair. “Honestly? I feel like I might puke.”

  “It’s the adrenaline,” I explained. “You should probably eat something.”

  “We all should, probably.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. “We skipped lunch.”

  “I’ll go find something.” I moved to stand, but he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “We should probably figure out what to do,” he muttered, looking over at Mary. She seemed unsure of how to handle herself, now that the immediate danger had passed. She was fidgeting, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for someone who might feel sorry for her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her parents need to be called. And the rest of us either need to book a different flight or find a place to stay for the night.”

  “I can’t imagine leaving now.”

  He nodded. “Me, either. But I wonder if it would be easier on her parents? They’ll want to come out, won’t they?” He looked me straight in the eyes. Was that respect that I saw there, beneath the fear and exhaustion? “What do you think?”

  I pictured Charlie and Lucy’s parents, whom I had met several times. They both reminded me a lot of Charlie—generally cheerful if slightly bumbling, and completely doting on their children. “I’m sure they’ll come out immediately.”

  He nodded. “Let’s wait and see what Charlie wants us to do. I’m sure we can find a hotel for the night—or stay at Leslie and Devon’s, if it comes to that.”

  “I think he should be the one to call their parents,” I said, my voice low so Mary wouldn’t hear. “The last thing they need is, um, hysterics.”

  His gaze darted over to Mary in understanding. “I think you’re right.”

  “Then I’ll go down to the cafeteria and get us some food, and we can arrange the details when Charlie gets back.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  I took a step back, knowing that the last thing he would want would be to put any distance between himself and Lucy. The thought gave me that strange little ache in my chest again, but I shook it off.

  “I’ll go. You stay here so you can talk to Charlie.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded, wanting the time alone for more reasons than I could even express to myself.

  “Okay.”

  Before he could say anything else, I turned and bolted for the door, wishing I could escape the memory of the way he’d looked at Lucy on the beach as easily.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “So she’s back home now?” Will asked, reaching across the table to refill my wine glass.

  I nodded, raising the glass in thanks before taking a sip. “Yup, all settled in at Charlie and Mary’s place, which I’m sure is a huge delight for her.”

  He raised his eyebrows, eyes twinkling. “What do you mean?”

  I played with my wine glass. “Mary isn’t the easiest person to live with. Or, you know, spend much time with at all.”

  He chuckled across the table. “This is one of your closest friends, isn’t it?”

  I rolled my eyes to hide the uneasy feeling in my stomach at his words. Mary was one of my closest friends. Even though I often wanted nothing to do with her. And even though she had a habit of ignoring me completely, unless Emma was around. Great friendship.

  I took another sip of wine, trying to push the thoughts away. Think about your plan, I told myself for the millionth time. It had become even more of a mantra in the last week since Lucy’s accident.

  Lucy’s parents had flown into L.A. the night of the accident, camping out at the hospital for the entirety of her forty-eight-hour stay. The rest of us, save for Charlie and Mary, had flown back to Vegas the next morning. We were able to see Lucy briefly before our flight. She had looked pale and shaky but had hugged each of us, holding Rick’s hand throughout the visit while she thanked him again and again for saving her.

  “Annabelle did much more than I,” he told her. He seemed uncomfortable, his eyes darting to her parents. “You should have seen her charging into the water after you. She didn’t even hesitate.”

  “Annabelle,” Mrs. Musgrove had said, her voice brimming with emotion as she wrapped me in a warm, motherly hug. “I should have guessed you’d save the day. I always told Charlie that it was a great thing Lucy went to work for you. You’ve done so much for her already. You’re a great friend to our daughter, Annabelle. A great friend.”

  “It was nothing,” I assured her, feeling guilty. I’ve been sick with jealousy of your daughter for weeks, I thought. Even when she was lying there unconscious I felt jealous. Some friend.

  I was slightly surprised when Rick said he was flying back with us, and the stricken look on Lucy’s face told me that she felt the same way. “He needs to get back and save the company,” Charlie had told her, nudging her shoulder with a grin. “So that you’ll have a job to come back to when you’re feeling better.”

  “I wish I could stay,” I told her before I left, giving her a last hug. “What on earth will I do without you?”

  “Etta will take care of you,” she told me, squeezing me tight before whispering a thank you in my ear.

  Back in Vegas, we had jumped right into the proposal planning. Rick and Jim worked through the night nearly every night, challenging my long-standing habit of being the first to arrive and the last to leave. Rick seemed driven by some overwhelming emotion, as if guilt or fear was driving him to succeed or die trying. Or maybe he had taken Charlie’s words to heart—maybe he envisioned himself saving the company so that Lucy would have a job to come back to.

  Regardless of the reasons, the proposal turned out great and the presentation went off without a hitch. The investors told us that they were very interested in our ideas and asked us to come up with a more detailed proposal—but that they were hoping to see something more innovative for the final round.

  We had passed the first hurdle.

  My excitement was only overshadowed by the return of Lucy, as terrible as I felt admitting it to myself. Her doctor had insisted she remain in L.A. for a week before flying back to Vegas, so she could be
monitored for concussion symptoms. Apparently, a week with her parents in a Los Angeles hotel had been more than enough family time for her. When they tried to insist she go back to Arizona with them, Lucy had flat out refused. She was determined to complete her recovery in her own home—or, at least, in her own town. A compromise had been struck—she would stay with Charlie and Mary while she healed. They certainly had room for her, even with a certain architect team currently inhabiting two of their guest rooms.

  “Earth to Annabelle,” Will said, lightly tapping the edge of my plate with his fork. “You okay?”

  I smiled at him over my half-eaten dinner. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week.”

  He gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. That must have been so scary for you.”

  I nodded, staring down at my plate. It had been scary. And completely heartbreaking in a way I didn’t even want to think about. “It was a big week at work, too.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, running his fingers down the stem of his wine glass. I wondered if he found work talk boring, but when he looked up at me, his eyes were alert and interested. “What’s going on at work?”

  I filled him in on the bid and the work that had gone into getting it approved. He whistled. “The Covington property, eh?”

  “You’ve heard of it?”

  He shrugged, looking away. “Sure, it’s been in the paper.” He met my gaze again, his eyebrows slightly raised. “I read the real estate section, you know.”

  I laughed. “Sorry, I forgot you were in the flipping business for a minute. I was distracted by all the other outlandish stories you told me about your career choices.”

  He winked. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? The kind of stuff these rich people expect in their properties.” He rolled his eyes. “I was doing some construction work with a buddy of mine on a four point five mill house. Can you even imagine?”

  I swallowed, knowing Emma’s parents’ house had far exceeded that.

  “There was a bowling alley in the basement, for God’s sake.”

  “That sounds a little fun,” I argued.

  “No.” He pointed his fork at me before jabbing a buttered scallop. “Bowling is fun because you go out with your friends and you wear weird shoes and you drink watery beer and listen to sad country music. It’s not fun to do on your own in your own basement. I mean, no one likes bowling that much.”

  I snorted. “That’s not the weirdest thing I’ve seen in a property.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Do tell, Miss Elliot.”

  I debated whether or not to go through with it for a brief moment before smiling. Liz bragged about everything else her family had, may as well share this juicy tidbit, too. “I went to school with a girl whose family had a sculpture room—sculptures of themselves. And their pets.”

  Will through his head back and laughed, wiping at his eyes. “Holy crap, Elliot. I’ve seen some ridiculous shit, but that takes the cake.”

  I laughed, too, enjoying the feeling of amusing someone so thoroughly. It was nice to have someone to talk to about this kind of stuff. All of my friends were born with the exact same silver spoon in their mouths—none of them would have batted an eyelid at the idea of a basement bowling alley or a room dedicated to custom-made, family-inspired art. But Will was from home, from a place where people worked hard just for the necessities. I hadn’t realized how much I missed feeling like I belonged when it came to the subject of socio-economic background.

  “This hotel you’re working on,” he said, still chuckling a little. “What kind of crazy stuff are you putting in there to keep the mad rich happy?”

  I told him about Mary’s idea for a Chinese fish bath pedicure and Mary’s insistence on solid-gold bathroom taps. Even Emma was determined we would have soaking tubs in every room, but I agreed with her there. Even the normal people liked a bit of extravagance when visiting Vegas. Wasn’t that kind of the whole point?

  He listened to my descriptions, and I was again struck by how nice it was to have a conversation with a man. Most of the guys I had seen lately had little interest in hearing about my work. They were far too busy trying to impress me with tales from their own business. Will listened, though, and you could tell he was really taking it all in. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had so clearly hung on each of my words.

  The phone in my bag chirped and I sighed. “Speaking of work…” I pulled the phone out and glanced at the screen. As expected, a text from Emma. Sorry to interrupt the hot date, she wrote. But we’re all gathered at the office.

  I slipped the phone back in my purse. “That’s my cue to go.” Before agreeing to the date with Will, I had warned him that I would have to head back to the office before the evening’s end. We had a shipment of marble samples coming in, and Rick wanted the go-ahead on our choice.

  I still couldn’t shake the idea that we were off, somehow. That our plans were too generic, too everyday. Old school Vegas sounded nice and all, but hadn’t it been done before? Was nostalgia still in?

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Will said, standing with me. I reached for my wallet, and he waved me away. “Absolutely not. This one was on me.”

  “I’ll get the next one,” I said, feeling bold.

  He smiled, the expression mischievous enough to give me tummy flutters. “I’m looking forward to next time.” He kissed my cheek, lingering for a moment longer than necessary, before stepping aside so I could make my way outside in search of a cab.

  As the taxi driver fought through the evening traffic on the Strip, I tried to focus on the work tasks ahead, but I was distracted. I couldn’t help but wonder where this might go with Will. He had called me the very day I’d arrived back in L.A., wanting to make good on his promise of dinner. When I’d had to turn him down in favor of long hours at work, he hadn’t been deterred. Instead, he had insisted I let him know as soon as things slowed down, and had texted me a few times during the week to wish me luck.

  Emma had greatly approved of the idea of Will. When I told her about our reunion at the club in L.A., she had clapped her hands, only stopping when I told her I had vetoed the one-night stand, after all. “He was into you, Annabelle,” she groaned. “How are you ever going to get some if you can’t tell when a guy is into you?”

  “He’s an old friend from home,” I had argued.

  “Exactly! It’s all like, romantic comedy-esque. Reunited in a new city, long-lost loves—”

  “We were never loves!”

  She held up a finger. “You said he was your first kiss.”

  “Yeah, at spin the bottle. That hardly counts.”

  Of course, the first kiss that I would have really said counted had been several summers later, with a shop hand from across the pond. But I refrained from mentioning that to Emma.

  When Will picked me up from work that night for dinner, she had hovered in the hallway to get a good look at him, winking and making suggestive hand motions over his shoulder where only I could see.

  Sitting in the back of the cab, I pulled out my phone, realizing I hadn’t responded to Emma’s text, and punched the speed dial for her office line. “Did I interrupt the hot loving?” she asked immediately, sans hello.

  “It was dinner, Emma.”

  “Mmhm. Sure.”

  “Are you going to be mature about this, or am I going to have to cut you off from the details of my love life?”

  “Love life!” she crowed loudly. “You have a love life! When’s the last time you could say that?”

  “You make me sound like an old maid, you brat.”

  She cackled. “Not an old maid. Just a dissatisfied hot thing.”

  “You’re insane. I just wanted to tell you that I’m on my way.”

  “Okay—hang on.” There was a muffled sound, like she was covering up the phone. I could still hear her voice, though— “This is Annabelle now. She’s just left her date and should be here in a minute.”

  “Who was that?” I hissed.

  “Rick and Jim
,” she said, her voice a little too loud, as if she wanted them to hear. “I was just telling them about your amazing date and—”

  “Shut up!”

  She laughed again. “You so do not get this ex-boyfriend thing, do you?”

  “Is he still there?” The taxi driver looked over his shoulder at me, concerned. Maybe he could sense I was close to a rage stroke.

  “Of course he’s not. Don’t be ridiculous. Though, if you want, I could probably drop some mention of you coming from a hotel if you want.”

  “We had dinner at the Bellagio!” I yelled. “We weren’t at the hotel part!”

  “I would leave that information out.”

  “Emma, don’t you dare.”

  She sighed. “Fine. But it would serve that asshole right. Going after a freaking twenty-year-old right in front of you.”

  “Lucy is twenty-four.”

  “She’s an infant.”

  I wasn’t really in the mood to defend Rick and Lucy’s relationship. “I’m almost there,” I reiterated. “See you in a few.”

  “Okay. Sure you don’t want me to mention the hotel?”

  “Good bye, Emma.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Over the next few weeks, I found myself so busy that I couldn’t devote much worry to Rick and Lucy at all. We were all working pretty much constantly on the pitch. We had decided on the Old School Vegas theme, despite my misgivings, and it was full stream ahead with our plans.

  The most shocking aspect of the next few weeks was the fact that I was actually developing a social life. I was carving out blocks of free time throughout the week to meet up with Will. A lunch here, a late-night dinner there. We hadn’t progressed much past dating, but he had kissed me the other night. Just a soft peck on the lips, but a definite step up from the cheek kisses I’d been getting used to.

  That one little kiss finally clued me in on his intentions. I had been starting to wonder if maybe he just saw me as a good friend from home whom he wanted to catch up with. The line between dating and having friendly conversation seemed blurred to me, though he did appear to look at me in a way that made me think he might like what he saw. The kiss, innocent as it was, definitely told me he was interested in more.